Psychosomatic Illness?

More from Lost and Found in London! …

The next morning I awoke with an impossible cold.  A case of mind over matter, I concluded drearily with my head glued to the pillow. 

Psychosomatic or not, it was doing a good job of racking my entire body with incessant coughing, as my congested chest tried to relieve itself.  I felt weak and completely unambitious.   Hopeless. 

Of course, I told myself, momentous personal change would be impossible under the circumstances.  Deep thinking simply wasn’t an option.  I would have to bow out gracefully from any Counselling plans Chris might have for the day. 

On the other hand, if my sudden illness was merely psychosomatic, then what?  Should I allow my mind to play nasty tricks whenever it wanted – especially when I was scheduled to doing something positive? 

I had always been fascinated by the power of the unconscious – and knew it was capable of first-class sabotage.  Those stories of people losing their keys when they were about to go somewhere important or getting sick just before a crucial exam had always fascinated me. 

I had even heard that the various personalities of a schizophrenic could have contrasting states of health.  One was diabetic, while the other was perfectly fine.  That said a lot. 

Not being too cruel or sadistic, my mind had merely settled on the common cold.

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