In Dostoyevsky's Notes from the Underground, the narrator complains about a problem in his liver, yet refuses to go see a doctor. He has no idea what's wrong or how to treat it, but out of spite the narrator does not seek treatment, and lets the pain permeate. For Dostoyevsky, this is not an problem of ignorance or masochism, but a problem derived from freedom: if the highest virtue man can seek is the ability to do as he / she pleases, they will devolve into irrational, reckless behavior in the name of asserting their freedom. Sure the narrator is in pain, but in procrastinating in seeing the doctor he protects the timeless virtue of being able to do as he pleases. Never did any character from literature speak so true to me, until I found myself in the exact same position.
I've been sick the last few weeks, and it has sucked. Tremendously. I was in near constant pain pretty much every day from a low ache in my head and behind my eyes, and no amount of Tylenol and herbal tea could help. I told my girlfriend I was fine, and of course she didn't believe me, but she didn't say anything in hopes that I would eventually wise-up and get it checked out by a doctor. Well I chose to procrastinate instead, and one day while we were reading together over tea, my symptoms go so bad she had to drag me to a clinic nearby to get my head looked at. (It's actually our go-to date: just sitting together and reading whatever books we had been working on. She was working her way through Tolstoy's Death of Ivan Ilyich, and I was enjoying C.S Lewis's The Weight of Glory). Turns out I had a cluster headache due to a sinus infection, which lead to a migraine so bad that it rendered me incapable of both walking and opening my eyes. Luck for me my girlfriend was there, or I'm not entirely sure what would have happened.
Now why am I telling you this? Because this is not the first time I or someone else new to the city has refused to go to the doctor right away, only to pay for it later. Back in Orang County, I hardly ever got sick, and when I did it was nothing a day or two at home couldn't cure. I hardly ever saw my doctor unless it was a routine check up. However, when I moved to New York, I realized just how serious being sick actually could be, and how my regular methods for treating illness (Tylenol and tea) didn't cut it. Despite my overwhelming desire to preserve my freedom to do as I please (as Dostoyevsky would put it), I've come to realize that procrastination with your health in New York is futile and you should go to the doctor.
Financiers and bankers say that if New York sneezes, the entire world catches a cold. That rings true in the financial world, but I have come to realize that it also applies to individuals in the city as well: if a New Yorker sneezes, sooner or later everyone will get whatever the hell they had. New York is the crossroads of the world, making it a crossroads for illnesses of all shapes and sizes, from all corners of the world. You may have caught every strand of the cold or flu back home in California, but upon moving to New York you will need to catch those illnesses all over again in new forms, including new one's you never even knew about. What feels like a soar throat at first could end up being something you haven't built up an immunity for, like bronchitis or strep. You just never know.
Being sick is terrible, and being sick in New York is even worse. Don't be like the narrator who doesn't get a check up (he also frequents prostitutes and ruins birthday parties, so don't do those things either), and just see the doctor. There are lots of clinics around the city that are very accessible, and they take most insurance. You have no excuse for not seeing one if you feel seriously ill, and you are the only one who knows how to tell if that is the case. Don't procrastinate. Go to the doctor.
This is real life though. Everyone gets sick here so fast.
ReplyDeleteNothing quite like being really ill during a very busy time in life to remind you of your finite and absurd existence.
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