Battle With Disease

I suffer from a rare and deadly disease called Acid Reflux. I think I contracted it ten years ago in Montevideo, Uruguay, but it’s possible that it was just Malaria, or Equatorial Goat Fever. I’ve been able to maintain my careless lifestyle of Canadian whiskey and pasta up until now. I understand that given my diet and my love for booze that Acid Reflux is somewhat deserved. Just because it’s deserved doesn’t mean it’s any less debilitating. In fact, it really, really sucks ass. Imagine going to let out a huge burp, and instead of grossing out a bunch of girls and instantaneously gaining the adoration of your friends, lava comes up your esophagus and your stomach becomes a psychotic arsonist who dedicates its life to setting your insides on fire, and you wake up in Bangladesh with a man who bought you on the Internet (Okay, I made up that last part, but it is that bad).
I must say that a large percentage of doctors would call my way of life “completely unhealthy.” Some doctors would even say that surviving this long defies medical science, and recommend I go on that show Mystery Diagnosis. I talked to my doctor about this. My doctor is very cool. When I went it for an STD test, his first question was, “So do you have anything weird on your dick or your balls?” (Using that language). He prescribed some Nexium, which works sometimes, but he also said that I’d have to change my lifestyle if I wanted the heartburn to go away (I also asked if he could prescribe some Percocets for me, but he told me to get the hell out of his office).

This was confounding for me (the need to change my lifestyle, not the refusal of Percocets, although both were pretty confounding). As a relatively spoiled person who, despite being in terrible shape, considers himself nearly invincible, I said to my doctor, “Um, no. I don’t want to change anything. Can’t you just give me a pill or a shot or something and make it go away? No? You’re telling me we can put a man on Mars, but we can’t cure heartburn? We can create super babies that are capable of flying an airplane, running a marathon in under three hours, and building giant robots that in one fell swoop can easily destroy a whole city, but you can’t cure my acid reflux? What do you think I am, some kind of jerk? You know what? Screw you. How about that? Did you like that? Because here comes another - screw you. Wait, hold on, I think I hear someone coming. Oh, here it is: Screw you. Asshole.”

Some say laughter is the best medicine. To them I say, “You guys are gay.” Since I’ve never been a big believer in “medicine” or “condoms” or “treating people the same regardless of their race”, when I came face to face with my old friend, Crown, I decided to imbibe as usual regardless of how unencumbered by pain I was. Huge Mistake. I can honestly say that I know what a dragon feels like, and it is not nearly as cool as it was it my dream where I fly around setting cities on fire, eating a ton of cheese, and making dragon lairs in baseball stadiums that are filled with dragon loving playmates that are willing to dedicate their lives to serving me (Sorry, I blacked out for a second). I’ll cut to the chase. Acid Reflux is ruining my life, and I’m quite displeased. Good day.