CHINESE MEDICINE, WAILING, AND HYSTERIA

My apartment mate is presently in a state of neurotic funk. No, I am NOT finally realizing that I live with a weirdo -- that was something that I was aware of for nearly twenty years, and truth be told, she is housed with someone of far, far greater eccentricity -- but it indicates that there is a worrying issue in her life.
Her eyelids are red. And sore. Eczema made worse by rubbing and scratching.
Those of you who have cats are probably familiar with the problem.
Little furballs damage tender areas by repeated pawing.
What was minor, soon becomes constant.

Unlike cats, however, women go all goofy about their appearance.

Even the most intelligent of them have a subconscious tendency to judge themselves by how glowing their skin, pert their breasts, long their legs, taut their muscle-tone, and sweet their smile/breath/hair conditioner/personality, is and are.

Not necessarily how smooth their armpits and legs, that's mostly an Asian and American thing. Little pink razors are probably a rarity in Europe, and used mostly be men over there.
Confused men.


So far she's been to two western doctors, and two Chinese herbalists. The western-style doctors were no help whatsoever, totally baffled, and incredibly expensive. The two Chinese doctors are less expensive, and the packets of herbal muck plus pills made of ground-up mystery substances are more affordable, as well as more effective.

I've taken a good gander at the contents of the big witches cauldron that bubbles in our kitchen every evening. Several common herbs, including a number that are skin-specific.
No idea what's in the pills, but I've noticed that herbalists seem to be presently in love with pills, and I'm rather skeptical of those. Over the past several years I've read possibly too much about herbal medicine and Chinese patent remedies, so I put my faith more in whole herbs.


The process for preparing Chinese herbal medicine is to take one of the packets or brown bags -- there really is an awful lot of stuff in there, much of it resembling a do-it-yourself compost kit -- dump it into a big soup pot, add four large bowls of water, and cook it down till one bowl remains. Drink that, then add more water and prepare another bowl to be enjoyed eight hours later. There may be up to twenty or thirty different herbs in the recipe.
Usually about a dozen or so, seldom less than five or six.
Almost always including licorice root and dates.
Four or five packets or brown bags.

I've always liked the smells and tastes of herbal muck, but I'm kind of weird that way. Most people have a deep-seated loathing, brought about while they were children and forced to drink the stuff.


It looks like the medicine from the second herbalist is working. Her skin seems healthier. But unless she stops scratching and further irritating the flaky reddened lids, there will be little progress.

She's like a child that way. Stubborn, headstrong, disobedient, sneering, and denialistic.


"Were you scratching?"

"No!"

"You were, I can tell."

"I was NOT!!"

"Yes you were."

"Oh stuff it, stupid white man!!!"


Turns out, of course, that she was. It felt "so good".
She's a very guilty Cantonese woman.
With red, red eyes.


Her boyfriend, being totally Aspy has been quite useless; his approach to comforting her when she howls that she is "ugly, ugly, ugly, UGLY" is to suggest that perhaps she doesn't look THAT horrid, honest. And unless she stares at people, they won't really notice. He can live with it, Sweetheart, it's no problem.

Not being her boyfriend, I have a more rational perspective.
That doesn't mean I can be any better, however.
It isn't my place, and it might be forward.


So I've detailed the small grinning Totoro who lives in my quarters to go over to her room, and cheer her up.
Tell her she's beautiful.

Often, while I am reading, I can hear the creature happily repeating "bugga bugga boo!" Followed by squeals of outrage from several different voices.
Apparently Totoro-san tries to kiss everyone on that side.
Not all the stuffed animals are cool with that.
I sense that he doesn't really care.
He too is somewhat Aspy.

Bugga bugga boo.

I'm fairly certain that "bugga bugga boo" is therapeutic.
Not entirely sure about furry kissing, however.
But it probably indicates affection.
Which may be good.


Bugga bugga boo!

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