Why Little People Shouldn't Drink Coffee
Almost 12 hours after I drunk it and I'm sooooooooo wide awake. Probably an expectation effect. That is what the psychologist in the house would tell me - if she wasn't still in the US. Or it could be the slightly spicy green curry I ate not that long ago - i'm really liking tofu and eggplant at the moment.
I do love the smell and quite like the taste of coffee. It just usually makes me nauseous and exemplifies the shaking ten-fold.
The shaking. There is an interesting idiosyncrasy. That's what I have been trying to think of it as late. With my first conscious memory of it going back to my second year primary school teacher referring to me as "Miss Wibbly Wobbly" on a school report card, it's become quite tedious explaining "No, I'm not cold, it's just something i've always done". I have come to the conclusion I need to own it, to accept it gracefully like you would the onset of old age, as an inevitability. I have learnt no amount of cardio, magnesium, acupuncture, yoga, gp consultations, blood tests, and curious or downright rude comments from people not used to me will ever overcome it entirely. (I turned down the offer of 'mild' epilepsy drugs from a well meaning doctor). Exercise, supplements, eating frequently and abstinence (from overconsumption of liquor of course) definitely help, but it's completely out of my control beyond those variables. And it can be embarrassing! I hate how transparent it makes me, because it's at its absolute worst when i'm upset or angry, or nervous, or people around me are upset or angry or nervous. It makes it very hard to seem tough!
So one day when I was in to my first course of acupuncture for it I walked in to the Chinese medicine shop on the corner of Left Bank and Cuba mall, and was met by a curious hybrid of feng shui heaven and a drug store. I ignored the brass cats and buddhas and fans and incense and spiritual books and went straight to the pottles and jars that lined the left hand wall of the store, which were all labelled in Chinese . So I approached the wizened old almond-coloured woman with slanted dancing eyes sitting behind the counter, and feeling quite confident in my comprehension of eastern medicine's diagnosis of my 'shakes', I asked what herbs she stocked for liver blood deficiency or 'internal wind'. 'Internal wind' is the term I had heard my acupuncturist use and I liked that it had been made tangible with these words, where western medicine had always left it a shapeless foe, it suddenly had a name and potentially a cure. But as I spoke her eyes burned with even brighter animation, and I was understandably taken aback when she put her hand to her stomach and asked,
"Gas?
No no. A slight language barrier led to more charades and the procurement of an unidentified jar of tiny metallic grey ball bearing type pills, that I was apparently supposed to take 100 of each day. Or something like that. The dosage was also in Chinese. I left the shop feeling slightly less confident of a full recovery...
I do love the smell and quite like the taste of coffee. It just usually makes me nauseous and exemplifies the shaking ten-fold.
The shaking. There is an interesting idiosyncrasy. That's what I have been trying to think of it as late. With my first conscious memory of it going back to my second year primary school teacher referring to me as "Miss Wibbly Wobbly" on a school report card, it's become quite tedious explaining "No, I'm not cold, it's just something i've always done". I have come to the conclusion I need to own it, to accept it gracefully like you would the onset of old age, as an inevitability. I have learnt no amount of cardio, magnesium, acupuncture, yoga, gp consultations, blood tests, and curious or downright rude comments from people not used to me will ever overcome it entirely. (I turned down the offer of 'mild' epilepsy drugs from a well meaning doctor). Exercise, supplements, eating frequently and abstinence (from overconsumption of liquor of course) definitely help, but it's completely out of my control beyond those variables. And it can be embarrassing! I hate how transparent it makes me, because it's at its absolute worst when i'm upset or angry, or nervous, or people around me are upset or angry or nervous. It makes it very hard to seem tough!
So one day when I was in to my first course of acupuncture for it I walked in to the Chinese medicine shop on the corner of Left Bank and Cuba mall, and was met by a curious hybrid of feng shui heaven and a drug store. I ignored the brass cats and buddhas and fans and incense and spiritual books and went straight to the pottles and jars that lined the left hand wall of the store, which were all labelled in Chinese . So I approached the wizened old almond-coloured woman with slanted dancing eyes sitting behind the counter, and feeling quite confident in my comprehension of eastern medicine's diagnosis of my 'shakes', I asked what herbs she stocked for liver blood deficiency or 'internal wind'. 'Internal wind' is the term I had heard my acupuncturist use and I liked that it had been made tangible with these words, where western medicine had always left it a shapeless foe, it suddenly had a name and potentially a cure. But as I spoke her eyes burned with even brighter animation, and I was understandably taken aback when she put her hand to her stomach and asked,
"Gas?
No no. A slight language barrier led to more charades and the procurement of an unidentified jar of tiny metallic grey ball bearing type pills, that I was apparently supposed to take 100 of each day. Or something like that. The dosage was also in Chinese. I left the shop feeling slightly less confident of a full recovery...
posted by Pix @ 10:17 pm
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