A Southern Boy, Too Many Parisian Oysters, and the Stressors of a Good Life

Apparently making a good enough living typing at home about God and Man that his wife doesn't have to work, banking a near million dollar book advance and hectoring others about how to live while eating Parisian oysters on multiple elective vacation trips to Europe is far more stressful and unhealthful than anyone knew. I asked my invisible, anonymous friend Maria, the journalistic source of all my unverifiable anecdotes and a single mom of four who cleans bathrooms at the Greyhound station when her Walmart shift is over, what she thought of this:

So, I went to see the rheumatologist about my chronic mono. Tests were ordered, but his considered opinion is that my immune system has broken down because of persistent and serious stress. He will see me in three weeks to go over the test results, but predicts that the answer for me will be “trying to find inner peace.”

He said that, this physician, talking like a priest. He told me he sees this a lot in his practice these days: people’s immune systems being unable to cope with multiple stressors. Who knew?

Tears streaming down a face pallid and doughy from years of night work at two jobs and a diet of Big Macs and takeout tacos, Maria could only shriek in agony at the top of her lungs, "WHO KNEW!? WHO KNEW!?", and then she broke down completely, and then while trying to console her I started sobbing uncontrollably with her, and I'm sorry, folks, I'll try to finish this when I can finally compos