Wow, sometimes getting on a soapbox comes back and bites you right on the ass. Even though I really do not have a donkey, I guess it is OK to use that word, but if you are offended . . . well, let us drop that subject, because if you got offended, I doubt that you would understand anything I said anyway, so go away! Well, no, do not go away, and I am sorry for offending you.
As you can already see, I am in weird mood today, mainly because I woke up feeling ill. I am not sure, but it may be finally the time to get my tonsils out. And here I had been feeling so great about getting close to 50 and still not had to yet have any surgery in my life. In fact, I have only broken one bone, thus far, and, at the time it occurred, an Army Medic misdiagnosed the problem. He told me I had only bruised the bone and it would hurt for about six months while it was healing. Of course, six months later, the ache was still there. I went to the hospital and got an x-ray. I found out I had actually broken the bone, but the doctor said it had healed pretty well. Not bad news to me, especially since I had gone to mountain climbing school between the incident that broke my leg and having it x-rayed. Of course, I was, what, about 20 at that time?
I will be 48 in less than three weeks, and some days, like today, I feel every day of it, if not more. I sometimes wish I was 20 again, though not often. I have often thought of when I was 20 lately, especially with this current war going on. Mostly my thoughts revolved around the fact that wars are mostly fought by young men. I joined up to go to Viet Nam, even though the whole country seemed up in arms about the ordeal, in 1973, just because I was young and figured I could go kill me a bunch of gooks, and had no thought about being killed myself. I mean what 20-year-old male, or anyone close to that age, does not believe that he can kick ass (there, I used that word again!) better than the next man?
The physical aspects of being 20 are fantastic, but there does not seem to be much wisdom in being young. I spent too much of my time drinking, partying and chasing after girls to care much about wisdom. I now think that those who might have actually gotten something out of yesterday's post are likely the ones, who, even if they actually read the whole thing, probably dismissed it as a bunch of crap. I remember being a bit afraid of getting gonorrhea or syphilis when I was 20, but figured you didn't get that from American girls. My practice of safe sex was to not go to Mexico and visit the red light district. However, I always felt like I was not getting enough sex, and was always wanting more. And despite all I said yesterday, I still am wanting more than I get. It just does not bother me anymore . . . too much. At least, not enough that I don't care if I hurt other people's feelings or get too risky with my own health.
Hey, I have lived to be almost 50 already, so things are not all that bad. Sure, there are a lot of people who live into their 80s, and I have seen some of them, a few looked really good, but most looked like they had already lived too long. My dad lived into his 70s, just barely so, and I have not heard him complaining much about it. His dad only lived into his 60's because medical science had not yet evolved to the point to recognize his heart problems. Such had been accomplished by the time my dad had his first heart attack. My dad survived his first two open heart surgeries and a couple of other minor procedures, before perishing of complications following the third open heart surgery.
My mom died at 66 of Hepatitis C contracted through a surgical blood transfusion a decade previously. My cousin died of the same problem at 42, although contracted from a dirty needle he used to inject some "speed" into his arm. I do miss all of my relatives, but people die, and life still goes on. I have finally arrived at the conclusion that none of us are so important that the world stops going around after we die. In many cases, there will be someone close to you that will be strongly affected, but even their world continues.
My body is less healthy than it was when I was 20. I, regrettably, have 30 years of smoking to thank for that! I gave up drinking, mostly, when I found that all four of my minor arrests had occurred when I had been drinking . . . and not thinking. My aches and pains increase, year by year, one here, and another there. I still feel some pain from that misdiagnosed broken leg when I was 20. Most of my knee problems are likely due to the sliding on them like I did when I was 12 or so. Add in the car wrecks, drunken falls, and industrial accidents, and I can easily see the causes of most of my current aches and pains. Although, luckily, I was the only member of my family not to be afflicted with asthma, I have succumbed to allergy reactions as I have grown older. I get sinus headaches and I get headaches from staring at a computer screen for hours at a time. My stomach hurts; I get heartburn whether I eat or not. If I do eat, it makes no matter what I eat. Sometimes medications work; sometimes they do not. I could not run two miles if I had to.
And yet, I feel quite healthy. In many ways, I still feel like I can kick ass! Some of the more lovely ones, I would rather kiss!!! However, I do recognize the doom and gloom on my horizon; I just do not fear it. Death comes! Fearing it is fruitless. I am not craving death, but I already recognize what a minimal effect my death will have on the world and those few people who know me well enough to care. When death comes (there is no thought of "if" any longer) I just hope it is . . . sudden and painless. I want no suffering involved. But, then, if medical science can perfect fixing people while I am still capable of being fixed, I might prefer to go on for a long while longer.
A illness induced discourse on my feelings on "life and death." Take it for what it's worth!
Posted by Tiger at April 8, 2003 11:05 AM | TrackBack