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Yesterday I received a response to a post I sent out to addresses in my Address.app that I haven't exchanged e-mail with for a while. I sent a photo of myself with the beard I removed soon after, and announced that i wasn't dead yet. Every person I sent my greeting to replied. That's pretty good in my opinion. I've had lots of e-mail addresses that are not active anymore. The only one that's active now is the gmail one.
The response I received yesterday was from this MD in Europe who has a website that uses Dutch for it's language. I don't know what his nationality is. Some people speak Flemish. Some speak French. Some speak German. Practically all of them are literate in English. I only have English. I'm probably lucky to have that.
My correspondent came right out and said that psoriasis is a result of cognitive resonance and isn't a real disease at all. Just a way of trying to armor myself with the crusted pustules that explode from my fingers and toes in the same manner as volcanoes. Psoriasis is a psychological condition caused by stress. That's very disturbing. At least I can give up attempting to get treatment from the medicos.
The silver colloids I'm using to deal with the sores may be working like i want them to, but it's hard to tell. I have a sample spot I'm checking it out on. It's a spot on the calve of my leg that a friend informed me was concerous. Three different MDs have told me not to worry about it, but it's there, and I worry about it.
I spray the colloids on my hands and toes and that one spot on my calf. Just for the hell of it I spray it on a birthmark on my forearm that's been there forever. I drink a little of it about everyday too. The only real sign anything is going on is that it makes me burp pretty good.
I slept late this morning, went out to lunch, came back and crawled in the bed again. I guess I took a four hour nap. If the reason I have these medical problems is due to stress, then I need to get rid of the stress.
It's warm today, and supposed to be even warmer tomorrow. I'm sitting here with the outside door wide open in my underpants and a t-shirt, and I'm not uncomfortable. I intend to start taking my walks barefooted. I haven't got any comfortable shoes. Before I spend the money to get some I'm gonna try reverting back to my childhood.
The route my brother and I take for walking is mostly dirt. We walk for about a hundred yards on the paved road, but the most of it is a sandy two-lane farm road and the driveway to our houses. I don't know how long it will take for my feets to toughen up, but they have to feel better than wearing ill-fitting shoes. I love my Crocs, but they just ain't getting it as far as walking two or three miles.
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I do not attempt to tell the God's own truth here because I don't know what the truth is or hardly ever. I try to capture the drifting thoughts that randomly appear in my imagination for reasons I may not understand. I don't know if the content I capture with these words is true or false. The Comments settings are turned off to prevent me from having to defend what amounts to little more than fanciful, sometime crude speculation. Great moments in our lives never return.
