For years, I assumed healthcare worked like clockwork. Doctors give you pills — you don’t question the process. It felt safe. But that illusion broke slowly.
Then the strange fog. I blamed my job. Still, my body kept rejecting the idea. I searched forums. None of the leaflets explained it clearly.
I started seeing: your body isn’t a template. The same treatment can heal one and harm another. Damage accumulates. And still we keep swallowing.
Now I pay attention. Not because I’m paranoid. I track everything. It makes appointments awkward. This is survival, not stubbornness.
The turning point, it would be
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