Tuesday, November 30, 2010

You're All Gonna Die!

Today is the day I do get poked and prodded by the doctor. I only go to the doctor every year because my wife makes me. Were it up to me, the only doctor I would see is the forensic pathologist. People accuse me of not wanting to go to the doctor because I am afraid of hearing I am going to die... That is patently false. I am afraid of learning I have to live for a long time with an illness and then I will die. Death itself is not terrifying to me, but I admit I occasionally get preoccupied with how I am going to die.

Will it be the dreaded 'C' word? I mean, not only is cancer always bad, but you can also get it in some pretty embarrassing areas. Remember the lovely Farrah Fawcett? She died of Anal cancer. I can't look at that classic Farrah poster that everyone 30 and over knows without thinking of Anal cancer. I am certain that when that photo became an icon anal cancer were the last two words that anyone was thinking of. Is there a more dreadful pairing of words in the English language? We redid our house in Jersey and I rarely wore a mask. I decided that lead paint dust wasn't too much of a danger to a fully grown person like me and masks make me feel claustrophobic. I didn't know until much later that the plaster on the walls probably used asbestos fibers in it. Shit.

Cancer is bad, but say you avoid it or survive it and live into ripe old age. Your reward is often dementia. Hooray! You can't take care of yourself, you don't understand what's going on around you, you crap your pants and are a general burden to everyone around you. Is this what they mean by feeling like a kid again? Speaking of kids, I won't have any to take care of me. I admit, that's a crappy reason to have kids, but it's comforting to know that people who ostensibly love you, or at least feel indebted to you are in charge of your care. Being childless, I will be a ward of the state whereupon Nurse Ratched will be entrusted to my care. I think I would explore a new radical brain therapy developed by Drs. Smith and Wesson if I were to be diagnosed with dementia or Alzheimer's disease. I think a .45 would do just splendidly, thank you. The real scary thing about dementia is that they don't really know what causes it, as such. I do crossword puzzles and play games like Scrabble and read and such just to keep my mind exercised to minimize my chances, because "they" say that helps. Of course "they" may be the publishers of puzzle books and the makers of games, in which case I would start to doubt the veracity of their claims.

Basically, we don't really know how to avoid dementia, but the myriad things they say could cause it grows exponentially day on day. A few years ago they said anyone who had even smelled a cup of coffee was doomed to brain failure and we should stick to decaf. Then not 18 months later, a study came out that said people who drank two cups of coffee a day lived longer, stayed healthier and had more friends. The latter no doubt because they weren't cranky from having skipped their cup of coffee. Drink red wine... it's good for your brain. If you don't have enough, it does nothing, but don't drink too much! That will melt your brain and liquefy your organs. By they way, we have no idea what is the right amount and what is too much, so use your best judgment.

When I studied neuropsychology, (which oddly the 'blog spot' dictionary doesn't recognize as a valid word, which is ok, because I have come to find out that most people don't consider it a valid degree, either), in college, we learned that people who ate food from aluminum cans had a markedly increased risk for developing Alzheimer's. Great. My parents graduated from the Boyardee Academy of Cheffery (which is also apparently not a word, but entirely apropos for the situation so I am keeping it in). I could build a jumbo jet from the recycled aluminum cans that have provided my food birth to present.

At 35, I may as well get under my binky, (another non-word that means blanket), and never leave the house. Then I can watch T.v. and see the commercials warning me that indoor air pollution will kill you dead just as sure as the sun will rise tomorrow. What? Indoor air pollution? Farts and stuff? No! Smells emanating from your walls and carpets and the very chemicals you clean with are conspiring to kill you! See the soot on the wall behind that candle? That's what you're breathing. They don't even know why it smells like pumpkin, but it sure isn't pumpkin and it can't be healthy! But those commercials are produced by people hawking air cleaners... surely they can't be believed. Oh, I see you have multiple pets, did you know that takes 25 years off your life?

I heard having pets makes you happier and therefore less stressed and you'll live longer! It all depends on who (whom?) you listen to. Doomsdayers, naysayers, pill purveyors and undertakers all have their own opinions and there is only one constant among them... You gonna die. Have a nice day.

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