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In Sickness and in Health

John Ragusa

    Last month, I had been having headaches and I was feeling dizzy. I wondered what was wrong with me. I decided to see my physician, Dr. Frelong. I figured he could tell me what the problem was.
    I told him how I had been feeling. He examined me thoroughly.
    “Well, Doctor, what did you find?” I asked.
    “You have high blood pressure,” he replied. “You need to avoid stress. I can put you on medication to lower your pressure, but there might be side effects.”
    “Like what?”
    “You could get nausea and diarrhea.”
    “I don’t want to have those things,” I said. “I’ll take my chances and skip the medication.”
    “Suit yourself,” he said.
    On the way home, I went to the grocery store to buy some food. When I paid for it, I found that the cashier had shortchanged me. I pointed this out to her.
    “I gave you the correct change,” she insisted.
    We argued about it for a while. I demanded to see the manager. He came over and I told him I didn’t get enough change back. He checked the receipt and said I was right. I was given the rest of my change, but by now I was very aggravated. I remembered what Dr. Frelong had said about stress, and I doubted that my ordeal with the cashier had done anything to reduce it. My blood pressure must have gone sky high.
    I drove back home. When I got out of my car, I saw Mrs. Jacobs, my next-door neighbor.
    “How’s it going?” I said.
    “I’m not doing so well at the moment,” she said.
    “That’s a shame. What’s the matter?”
    “Yesterday I caught the flu from my grandson.”
    “I hope you get better soon.”
    “Thank you.”
    The next day, I bought a blood pressure monitor. I used it, and I was relieved to discover that my blood pressure was lower than it had been before. This surprised me, because I thought that the stress at the grocery store would have increased it. I hadn’t needed any medication, either. I suppose I had gotten lucky.
    Sometimes doctors can be wrong. They tell you about an illness that doesn’t exist. I know that people are misdiagnosed with cancer all the time. This doesn’t mean that doctors are quacks; it just proves they aren’t perfect.
    One day, I went to the hospital to get some blood work done. I dreaded it, because I’ve always been afraid of needles. But when the technician took my blood, it didn’t hurt much.
    The blood test showed that my cholesterol level was high. I had to be careful about what I ate and drank. I’d have to eat less cheese and drink milk that was low in fat.
    I was worried about my health. I didn’t want to have a heart attack. I was scared of death, so naturally I didn’t want to be ill.
    I had dinner with my brother Chad that night.
    “I have to get my tonsils out,” he said.
    “I wish you luck with your operation,” I said. “I hope it goes off without a hitch.”
    “It should be successful. I have a good surgeon.”
    “That must calm your fears.”
    “It does. I can’t wait to get it over with, though.”
    “I know you’ll be glad when it’s finished.”
    “You better believe it.”
    A few weeks later, I had blood work done again. This time, the results showed that my cholesterol level had decreased considerably.
    I was glad to hear about this. Maybe I would have many more years of life. I hoped so; I didn’t want to die young.
    Then I started having stomach pains. They hurt so much, I actually cried. It was probably something I ate.
    At work, my boss told me he had been diagnosed with prostate cancer.
    “I’m so sorry, Mr. Banner,” I said. “That’s really tragic news.”
    “My doctor caught it early, fortunately. It won’t be fatal.”
    “That’s good. I’d hate to lose you.”
    Soon after that, my stomach pains went away. I thanked God for it; I wouldn’t have been able to tolerate them much longer.
    It was then that I realized something: When I was around sick people, my own health got better. Was this a coincidence? No, it had happened too often for that to be true.
    Then what was causing this bizarre phenomenon? I didn’t know; it was a mystery. Nothing could explain it.
    It was certainly supernatural. It defied the laws of nature. I couldn’t imagine what was making it happen.
    I felt kind of guilty about it. I didn’t think it was fair that other people’s misfortune caused my good luck. And I don’t like to see anyone suffer. I wish that everyone could be free of pain. It would also be nice if everybody would die of old age. But that isn’t how it goes.
    Still, in the long run, no one who had been ill would die. Mrs. Jacobs would get over the flu; Chad would be better once he got his tonsils removed; and Mr. Banner would be cured after he had his surgery. None of them would have any long-term damage from their illnesses.
    And if I benefited from them being sick, I suppose I should be grateful. After all, I didn’t want to be ill.
    So I would stop questioning this phenomenon and just appreciate it.

* * *

    Last night, I decided to start doing volunteer work at the hospital in my spare time. By doing this, I ought to stay happy and healthy for a long time.

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