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Hard to believe another year’s gone by, yet here I am back at the doctor’s office for the dreaded annual check-up. Yes, my blood pressure this year is just fine. I sailed through the usual exam questions, successfully avoiding an internal for yet another year and no, I really do not need the squished boobie test nor that third vial of blood draw because, guess what, I am protected from all that. Yes doctor I drink--and no, not thatstuff, I drink Puerh Tea, that is puer not puerh remember, it is in my file look-it UP.
Check-up day is oppressively hot for late September, but I leave the hospital thirsty and fully justified in stopping at the grocery store to buy a nice cold lemonade, dutifully eschewing the latest gleaming bottles of things they call iced tea. Lordy, but they sure find ways to bottle and package what knowing people like me and you can make at home with a simple gaiwan, not really sure who actually buys those things, that chilled tea with added god only knows what else in it. That which we ferment at home in crocks and pumidors, glass jars, shoe boxes, plastic bags, Rubbermaid tubs, back patios, rock caves and old socks are the Keys of the Kingdom, my friends.
I don’t know what the hell farmer thinks it a good idea to clog the road with a huge tractor going 20 mph backing up cars on a rural road at rush hour, driving home took forever. I barely get back in the door to sniff my tea enjoying the warm day on the porch when my Safelink obamafone rings. That’s the phone for old people with 50 free minutes a month because otherwise, no way am I gonna pay a smartphone plan with 2017 teas yet to buy. As long as my out of date browser IPad works, I am good. People can email rather than call. But I have a new doctor now instead of the one I had before for twenty-five years, and the new, younger one has a lot to learn, although I managed to get a full six months prescription of benzos out of her instead of the one month-only scripts I had to call the old doc for every frigging month. So now I can drink puerh all night long and not worry about waking up in time to call the clinic, and my obama minutes last forever. My new doctor just needs to learn to email instead of phoning.
Doctor says, we got your A1-C and you are three points into diabetes. Wut. Yes, you need to do something about that, maybe look at your diet and come back in a month. Those are not mytest results, I reassure her. Sorry but I think they are, she says.
How can this be? The urine and blood samples I turn in consist mostly of tea. I make sure of that. We need our doctor appointments and tests to accurately reflect our situation. After I quit lying about all the tea, given how good my blood pressure is, I go in fully stoked on green pu because really, this is mostly why I need to pee anyway. I have confidence now. Yet according to said doctor (PA not MD this time) I must do a half/day self-examination of what can possibly go wrong here. We all know puerh tea completely prevents diabetes (source, pretty much anybody you ask and google it).
No worries, because I got it figured out. First of all, I have a different condition. I have what is called
Dia-beet-us
Dia-beet-us
This is what actors get paid to say on television and are famous for. I am not dumb, and I hear you people with your chit chat and fancy yakking and I lurk at all the sh*t on Face-Book and Red-It, yes I do sometimes. Everyone will tell me this so I might as well say it: it’s the tea and I am drinking the wrong tea. My tea is OOLONGED. It’s the fake puerh with the red around the leaves which turns the tea sweet and nice to drink because the sugars get brought out at the start and the crap doesn’t age.
Tea like this:
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And this:
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Not proper puerh, like this:
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For sure, yeah I been drinking from booteeks and not from the factories. If you are not finding sufficient numbers of hair, corn, seeds and cigarette butts in your beengs, and if your green tea is even remotely sweet and possible to swallow, you got the wrong puerh tea, friend. The tried and true claims about puerh tea really are not verified for the boutique puerhs, only the factory puerhs, fact, that chop and ashtray are therapeutic effects for real. The proof is you get Diabeetus. See? I listen.
But I am back at you because there is a huge difference between you and me. For now I got Diabeetus and not the real disease of real people, because I am drinking misty mountain, not licking ash tray like the rest of yas. Actually I drink both and I don’t pay much mind as to which is which not because I can’t, but because who the f**k cares??? Well apparently now me because I have to care and do something about Diabeetus and the only possible change I can see the need to make in my life is going from boutique to factory.
So, bottom line this changes my shopping list somewhat for this year. I will need to look for the chopped and dusty-musty rather than the fresh and floral. I am in the market for body hairs and bamboo and plastic strap chunks to boil into what will surely bring me health and longevity and the size 4 body to fit the clothes in my closet. If you don’t believe all this well I can send you my lab tests and we can have a real before and after type scenario next year. Because all this is gonna change once I focus on the true Puerh. Really.