Jovial

This month a doctor discovered that my body isn't producing the folic acid my cells need to keep a-runnin' smoothly. So she prescribed large daily doses of live folate, with the hope that my cells will begin functioning normally and be able to more quickly and efficiently repair the bodily systems the Epstein Barr virus affected three years ago.

I've been faithfully taking the live folate for a week and half now, and praying that it will facilitate continued healing. I've been expecting that, if works, I'll have sustained energy, clear thinking, a stronger immune system, and happy organs and glands.

What I didn't expect was the accompanying laughter.

It's no secret that I have a habit of talking aloud to myself. I'm a verbal processor, and I've spent years watching my dad talk aloud to himself. Between nature and nurture I didn't stand a chance at being a non-talker-to-myself-alouder.

As a result of the last few years' illness, I've added "laughing aloud by myself to myself" to my list of quirks. That's what happens when you're too sick to have much contact with friends. You just become your own friend.

It's been a tough few years, though, and so I definitely did a lot more talking to myself than laughing to myself. And when I did laugh, it was the shallow kind. You know, the kind that comes from your chest, not your belly.

And then I started taking live folate.

And suddenly I'm laughing fit to kill — we're talking deep, gut-wrenching laughter – a couple of times a day. By myself. In my studio. With the windows open. Let's just hope the neighbors assume I have company.

Thank goodness I've been doing a lot of working from home this week, lest I scare the sweet, innocent little boys and girls who are out and about. It's just an imaginary friend, kids. He's really funny, and makes me laugh a lot. His name is Live Folate.

Now I can't be sure that the live folate is to thank for the recent, deepest belly laughs. Alone. In my room.

Side note: Every time I say or write "in my room" I feel I must add,

"Chancho. When you are a man, sometimes you wear stretchy pants in your room. It's for fun."

(Name that amazing, totally awesome, most-fun-to-quote movie).

There are lots of other things that could be contributing to my regular belly laughs this week. But I think it's that my cells are happy. Because if there's one thing I've learned, it's that when your body's broken you don't feel like yourself. And since I've felt more emotionally myself this week than I have since before the illness, I'm guessing it's thanks to some happy cells working their healing magic.

Thank you, Live Folate, for such a jovial week. It's been an unexpected and lovely treat.

-SJ




© by scj