Imagine you’re twenty years old. Imagine that you haven’t been feeling well and so you make an appointment to see your doctor. Bloodwork, piss in a bottle, a physical examination and an interview with said doctor.
Imagine then that your doctors office calls and asks you to return to review the test results with your physician. You join your doctor in one of his examination rooms. After a couple of minutes of fucking around with his computer he finds your file and pivots his chair to speak with you.
We have your results he declares solemnly. You have a condition that will cause your health to accelerate to deteriorate. Symptoms include a decrease in mobility, dexterity, and function of your sensory apparatus. You may also suffer from a decline in your cognitive functions, although perhaps not immediately. However the decline will accelerate as your condition progresses.
“Fuck” you respond. “How long do I have?”
” There are a number of factors that will determine how much time you have left” replies the doctor. ” Some of the symptoms are affected by genetics and environment, and so it’s difficult to ascertain an exact timeline.” Your doctor continues. ” You’re going to need to pay more attention to your diet and I’m going to prescribe to you a series of drugs that won’t cause your condition to abate, but will make you more comfortable. I also need to warn you that your condition is going to make you increasingly more susceptible to other diseases. Diseases that under normal circumstances you would be able to fight off may now prove fatal. The flu for example.”
So, you absorb that information and ask again about a timeline before you expire. The doctor again states that the timeline is difficult to pin down because your increased susceptibility to secondary disease makes this prognosis very difficult to be precise.
“O.k. that’s fucking great,” you respond. “Anything else?”
“There will likely be a series of physical and mental indignities that you’ll have to endure. You might lose your hair. You will probably develop skin tags and crepe skin. Your bowel movements may cause you pain or discomfort or they may stop functioning all together. You may find urinating more difficult and an erection next to impossible. Although you’re going to become less and less physically attractive and so an erection isn’t really necessary anyway. Your physical strength, reflexes and endurance will deteriorate exponentially as the condition progresses and eventually you will require twenty four hour care.”
So how does a person react to this news? Poorly I assume.
Now imagine that you’re sixty years old and you have the same appointment and discussion with your doctor. Because that’s pretty much how my doctor’s appointment went last week.
It’s kind of sobering to consider that I’m dying from ageing and that I’m firmly clear of the beginners slope and barrelling headway down a much steeper decline. My days are numbered and my time is going to be measured by a series of mental and physical deteriorations. Assuming of course, that none of the insidious secondary diseases gets me first.
Now, consider the advances in medicine, science and nutrition that have allowed for a world full of old fuckers. We’re everywhere, not just in Florida and Arizona. We’re slowing down traffic, bitching about change, struggling with smart phones and tablets, and if we’re female apparently we’re pissing ourselves a little bit each time we laugh. Or so it would seem from the plethora of pee commercials I’ve been subjected to lately.
We’re aware that it’s all downhill from here and yet we carry on. I’m not sure if the awareness I speak of is good or bad. Depends on the individual I guess. I’m sure there are people out there who are wisely nurturing their legacy with friends and family. I’m sure that there are people out there who are using their accumulated experience and wisdom to try and forge a better world for future generations.
I’m just as certain that there are people out there with my condition that are saying, “fuck it, I’m not going to be here to suffer any of the consequences of my actions so who gives a shit about future generations.”
These are the people driving old gas guzzling eight cylinders and voting against any initiative that requires short term sacrifice for a long term gain. These are the people who refuse to entertain any social change because they didn’t have that privilege during their youth, and so why the fuck should anyone else?
These are the folks that have decided to dismiss recycling and having their own cloth bags at the grocery store. They’re doubling down on plastic and ordering as many Amazon packages as they can that require tons of Styrofoam packaging. They’re leaving the lights on and using as many batteries as possible. They’re finding and ordering shark fin soup and support a resumption of the whale hunt. They might burn a few old tires just for the fuck of it, and are buying as many plastic water bottles and aluminum cans as possible and throwing all of them in a landfill or the ocean. Maybe a lake or a river if the oceans too far away.
I’m conflicted.
I think I’ll recycle, but it might be better to just get the flu and get it over with.