I haven't really been feeling all that well lately. It's been a few days now of just a small, stomachache kind of nausea that comes and goes. It's not the crippling, vomit-heralding kind of pain I had after spending a day in Atlantic City, burned to a fire engine red crisp, but it's more than enough to keep me from doing the things that I want to do. Like, say, going with Jess and Tanya to Hersheypark today. That sucks.
I'm not sure where the feeling is coming from either. I don't think it's any remnant from the sun-poisoning episode I had at the beach, but I don't know what it could possibly be otherwise. Maybe one of the bike rides I took with my dad last week? Both times I had to stop and just chill out at the side of the road because I felt like I was going to throw up. But to my defense, it was a good 80 degrees with major humidity both of those times. And that sort of thing shouldn't hang around like this.
Is it possible that in my advancing age (I'm over 23 and a half now, don't you know) my susceptibility to motion sickness is increasing? I thought I was getting better while I was in New Zealand, able to fly and boat and drive over a thousand miles around some pretty winding mountain roads. But I did have my trusty bottle of ginger pills at my side at all times. My mom can't do car trips without some kind of diazepam, and my dad can't even look at a carousel without his stomach turning. Am I already so old? Must I put my love of roller coasters and driving like a maniac by the wayside so soon?
I certainly hope not. Imagine it's just a stomach flu, influenced by the heat, humidity and the fact that I probably just plain don't eat right. However, I'd love to go to the doctor and get it checked out--and with my newly acquired health insurance, I'm good to go, right? Of course not. What I've got is health insurance at its most basic concept, not health care. What that means is I've got a $1200 deductible, so if I want to visit the doctor to figure out what the hell is up with my tummy, I've got to pay out for everything until I rack up twelve-hundred bucks. Then the insurance company will cover 90% of costs after that.
I don't have a problem with that really, it's the only way I could afford health insurance at all, at $79 a month. I could have had a zero dollar deductible for $123 or so a month, but that's just not realistic what with my lack of job and/or prospects. What my coverage is for is getting hit by a car and not dying. Nothing more. Which I guess is nice enough, but the statistics just aren't in favor of that kind of a thing happening. So Highmark just gets to swallow eighty bucks out of my wallet each month from here 'til infinity. Awesome. And I still have no idea why I feel like ass.
Huntington has a theory. We started talking about chemical warfare, and he suggested that possibly the most damaging thing that a bio-terrorist could do to the United States is not release anthrax or monkey pox on us, but just give 304,059,724 Americans a belly-ache. Not enough to bring us to our knees, not enough to have us crouched over a toilet, just enough for us all to sorta not want to move and maybe groan a little. How brutalizing would an attack like that be? It would show the vast power of such an attack, while also making us look like a bunch of lazy, weak slobs. Not that the latter would take much effort.