Wednesday 26 April 2000

Pic of the day: Even my skin is getting sick. Actually this rash has flowered on and off since before Easter, but it does look sickly, does it not? I think it looks really disgusting!

Gah. It felt like the warranty for my body expired today at 10 AM. Luckily, the body itself did not expire, but it seemed to take a sharp downturn. Suddenly I felt all weak again, like the other day, as if I had run to exhaustion. When walking, I felt like my legs would collapse at any time. Something seems to be wrong here. As I went out to lunch, I found to my surprise that I did not want food, even though I had only eaten two yoghurt since yesterday. And with my legs threatening to buckle, I got back inside instead. I made myself a cup of hot soup (I do have a water boiler at my office) and it did help a little. But I still did not feel well: Not in my musculature, suddenly kittenlike. Not in my stomach, and not in my bronchies, and not in my head. I eventually left work and went home.

I did not feel too well later either. I even shivered for a while in a warm room, even though I did not have fever. I wonder how much is body and how much is soul of this. As in all humans, the two are so twined together that it is hopeless to say where one starts and the other begins. We know for instance that in clinical tests of new medicines, it is not enough that some are given the medicine and some a placebo. (Often the placebo works pretty well too, but the real medicine must work somewhat better to be considered for field use. Also it should not have too much more side effects than the placebo. Yes, sugar or calcium pills can have pretty obnoxious side effects for those who expect that.) These days, as I said, that's not enough. Even those researchers who conduct the experiments must be kept in the dark as to who get what preparate. The types are marked with meaningless codes, and only afterwards is it revealed which was which. Because even if the patients don't know, the knowledge can somehow seep from the researchers ... something in their face, their voice, the way they stand or move or look at you. Creepy, isn't it?

I guess it's my bodysoul who is sick, then. Or my soulbody or something. Or perhaps it's just me.

I hope I'll be OK tomorrow. For a change, there actually is some rather brainless work to do, which I could use to work full days and then some. And I expect to get more days off than I want in May, what with the strikes and all.

I'm sorry to say that the sliding stock exchange was too limited in size and scope to leave its mark on the tabloid headlines for long. So the workers still think the good times are rolling, and they want their piece of the cake. Meanwhile, the employers see their fortune dwindling. They are not going to feel magnanimous. So this could be a hot spring, so to speak.

And for some obscure reason, every time there is a conflict, the bus drivers around here are taken out to strike. Or so it seems. Every second year, it seems to me, the buses will be parked for days at best. This year it could be weeks or months. Taking a cab to work would take such a bite out of the rather moderate pay that I don't feel much like doing it. Why always the bus drivers? Why not the people at the tax office? I don't think there has been a strike there since 1911 when the tax law was passed. In peace or war, the taxmen work hard. But the bus drivers strike for a bad word. Understand it those who can!

What I have noticed, though, is that not all people come back to the bus after the strike. Some have found other means of transport. Now I live in an area where people still move in, so it tends to grow back. But in more stagnant areas, the loss of passengers means that some of the routes will be cut back, having fewer trips each day. This in turns make more people look for other forms of transport, and so on. The bus route that I used to take ten years ago, is almost extinct by now.

Well, that is enough whining, is it not? Now to find out if I wake up tomorrow. I'd appreciate that. I generally do, believe it or not.