Since it’s Sunday, I’m writing about something gentle.
There are times when I go a long time without visiting the hair salon—probably because, in reality, I lack the physical stamina or my health simply doesn’t recover for about two months.
For some reason, I don’t often find myself thinking about things in that way.
When I feel a bit down and that period lasts for more than a week—or even one to two months—in the country where I live, it’s described using the term “mibyo,” a concept from traditional Chinese medicine originating in mainland China.
There’s a reason I keep writing about this: feeling unwell without actually being sick could mean you have a disease that hasn’t been discovered yet, or it could mean you have a condition for which a diagnosis and treatment have long been scientifically established—and which the government has officially recognized as a disease covered by insurance—but it’s simply not widely known because it isn’t a familiar illness to the general public.
It’s not about what exactly is wrong; it’s that the feeling of being unwell persists. It’s not a serious illness, and even when I look it up myself, I don’t see any signs that I’m showing symptoms of a specific condition.
I’d like to see an internist, but I’m afraid they’ll think it’s nothing serious, and I don’t want to come across as making a big deal out of a minor issue. After all, I can still go to the convenience store.
Even if I haven’t actually been diagnosed with a disease, I still feel unwell, so people say things like,
“It’s all in your head,”
“Cheer up,”
“It’s because you don’t talk to people,” or
or the kind of person I wouldn’t even want to know—
someone who does spot-on impressions of TV variety shows,
and suddenly, without even asking for my permission,
starts acting out the roles of the show’s host or the most popular comedian on their own,
and tries to get me—a complete stranger—
to talk at length about past failures that no one would ever bring up,
just like they do on TV,
or says things that aren’t funny at all,
making me wonder, “Is this person on drugs or something?” —
based solely on a set of values that only he understands,
Did he get reprimanded by someone in the TV industry long ago and is now holding a grudge?
Or did he reach adulthood while still mentally at the level of a six-year-old or younger,
and because people find him creepy, no one has ever told him anything, even as an adult?
That’s the only way I can think of this person,
who, facing others who are merely looking at them suspiciously,
shouts, “Reaction!” “That part’s unnecessary,” “The end was superfluous,” “That’s what I wanted,”
and
makes you wonder, “What if there really were a TV camera that only this person could see…?”
When you talk to people like that,
the low mood caused by your physical discomfort will disappear.
Be honest about yourself—become a mental exhibitionist. Being your true self is best.
And yet, there are still people who have genuinely believed this for years and who, whether in official settings or in the mass media,
boldly and loudly insist on things that are utterly baffling.
Since I seem to run into only people like this, I start to worry, “Maybe I should go get a purification ritual next time?”
This is a familiar scenario in the country where I live.
The characteristics of these people are:
Doctors can’t cure diseases.
Scientific treatments aren’t organic.
Chemotherapy doesn’t work.
Science is cold.
There are countless things that can’t be understood through numbers.
In their daily lives, they behave as if they’re in first grade or younger—both in their personal and social attitudes—
and their words and actions are often bizarre.
Furthermore, the very people who hold these views
are famous for approaching those who look unwell or are feeling down and keeping to themselves,
believing that simply by being by their side, they alone can cure that illness or discomfort.
Since the term “healing” implies treatment, they seem to take great pride in—and even draw confidence from—this delusion of grandeur that they can “heal” others. They’re also famous for trying to give advice in a casual, familiar tone for some reason.
I’m sure they want to be famous,
but even without a name that’s a household word, they’re already famous in the world—
it’s just that they themselves never seem to realize it,
continuing to imitate children and dress up as characters suited for kids under six even after they’ve passed 20, 30, and 40,
endlessly repeating that they “understand Snufkin,”
and saying, “Mii is a good girl.” —as long as they keep saying that,
they believe they alone can discover something precious,
and that they, and they alone, haven’t forgotten something precious that everyone else has long since forgotten.
I remember having our New Year’s family photo—the result of parents shoving the responsibility of raising us onto one another—taken in the soot-stained twilight of a back field in the countryside during the Showa 10s, when money was scarce.
That warm, fuzzy feeling of something precious that Japan has forgotten—everything in hiragana—and since children are geniuses, let’s have them develop the COVID vaccine, too. Apparently, with every step I take, there’s a sound effect of “warm and fuzzy, warm and fuzzy” that only I can hear.
If I suddenly start playing the roles of “Mom” and “Big Sister” in a pretend-play game, someone at work will respond to me—
that’s the nickname for those “Somewhere Else People” who love something precious.
I’ve never had the slightest interest in this sort of thing, but Masamune Kusano—who likely shares my sensibilities—is my best friend, existing only in my mind, a figure I’ve arbitrarily imagined.
Is this what they call “writer’s syntax”?
Isn’t this just a mistake in web writing style?
We really do need to be careful in our daily lives.
Since I’m not sure if this “pre-disease” condition is simply not widely recognized by the general public or if it’s an undiscovered illness, please be sure to see an internist.
A general internal medicine department is your best bet.
And if your condition still doesn’t improve even after taking medication as advised by your doctor and adjusting your diet and sleep schedule, there’s a medical option called a “second opinion”—seeing another doctor—so please be sure to consider that as well.
A “second opinion” is
a way to utilize medical services where you compare the findings from the initial internal medicine consultation with those from a subsequent one—using the diagnoses from both doctors as data—
to further inform the diagnosis, track the progression of symptoms over a short period,
and adjust the treatment plan accordingly.
This practice became established throughout Japan in the 1990s, so if your symptoms do not improve, please be sure to visit another internal medicine specialist.
I myself posted information online at the time about doctors who were open to the idea of seeking a second opinion.
Furthermore, the human body—including the brain—is made up entirely of organs.
We treat diseases of the stomach, intestines, heart, and so on with medication, don’t we?
The brain is no different.
Taking medication to cure a disease is a scientific treatment.
There is no such thing as treatment that involves aimlessly and mechanically prescribing a single, outdated type of medication for the brain as an organ.
For the pharmacological treatment of a single brain disorder, there are several dozen types of medications approved by the government and based on clinical data.
Naturally, these are covered by insurance.
Furthermore, the claim that people with brain disorders are deemed unreliable witnesses is complete nonsense.
This is because testimony is possible not only through the person’s own explanation but also by examining the reasons behind their actions and simply presenting the sequence of events in chronological order.
As you know, in order to obtain a medical license, doctors must undergo rigorous training—which requires more than just intelligence—and gain clinical experience before earning their national certification.
The fact that hairdressers hold specialized licenses also demonstrates just how strict the requirements are for any profession that involves physical contact with the human body.
In other words, the extent to which a hairdresser is allowed to perform hair and makeup services on a customer in a salon is strictly limited to the scope defined by the company.
It’s called fraud when someone claims to have earned a licensed practical nurse certification just by watching others do it, or insists on using terms like “Fuck heartwarming,” “Fuck kindness,” and “Fuck being there for others”—even though they can’t even speak properly about nutrition—and presents themselves to others as if they were doctors.
Everyone, please be very careful.
It’s starting to get cooler, isn’t it?
Well then, I hope you have a wonderful Sunday celebrating the quiet autumn.
