Worry is the disease

I woke up this morning with a rash on my butt. Throughout the day it started covering more area. When I noticed how large it was, worry flooded through me. I hated that. I feel healthy, so it’s probably nothing. It’s probably either something in the water my body is getting used to, detergent used for the bed sheets, or just me sweating more. Whatever it is, I’m sure acclimation to Buenos Aires is the cause, not some disease.

One of my thoughts after my worry was to see a doctor. That would be excessive. Other people have real problems. For instance, a real problem is being labeled a spy by the country you live in, like Rudolf Abel in Bridge of Spies. When asked if he was ever worried by Tom Hanks’s character, even when he was crossing the bridge to his probable death, he replied with Would it help?

Worry is useless. It’s the real disease here, not the rash on my ass. When something is the matter – really the matter – simply do something. Move forward. Be present and soak in the moment. This is life. An often beautiful struggle. And no, I’m not talking about the rash on my ass anymore. There is no struggle there, just an itch.