How will you die?

I recently read an interesting article that asked "How will you die"?  It sounds like a rather morbid topic, but if you think about it, it's a legitimate question.  Hopefully none of us have received a medical diagnosis giving us X months to live, therefore we likely just don't know.  

I suppose if you're a base jumper or a wing-suit flyer a "wardrobe malfunction" or a slight miscalculation could result in your untimely demise.  If you're a gang member, especially in a place like Chicago or St Louis, you might die in a violent shooting.  And it isn't hard to imagine a top member of the Trump administration being bludgeoned to death in prison.  But I doubt many of us fall into any of those categories.  So, what do you think will get you?  Stepping on a rusty nail?  Choking on a chicken bone?

For myself....hmmmm.  There was once a time in my life a chance I might have fallen off a cliff, or walked into an airplane propeller or been sucked into a jet engine, but those days are now mostly behind me.  I do drive daily in Dallas' insane traffic, so I suppose it's possible that might do me in some day.  I'm very careful with my firearms, so I doubt I'll pop a cap in m'self.

I have heart arrhythmia, but my pacemaker is ticking away like one of John Cameron Swayze's old Timex watches....no problem.  Otherwise my heart and all associated plumbing are in good shape.  I don't smoke, and I'm told my lungs are better than great.  I rarely drink, so I'm guessing my liver is safe, and my kidneys seem to be working as advertised, too.

No, I think some freak viral pandemic will eventually get me.  I had (past tense) a super strong, aggressive immune system, which oddly enough caused problems of its own, so I'm now taking meds to slow it down.  Now I'll probably be attacked by a flock of wayward mosquitoes carrying some deadly virus, or stung by that herd of killer ants making their way up from Mexico.  (All together now...."BUILD...THAT...WALL!  BUILD...THAT...WALL!")  *snort*

Maybe those crazy birds from Asia will find me here in Dallas and dump a load of their infected poop on me.  I really have no idea, but with my luck, it will likely be something weird that turns me into fertilizer.

How about you?  Venture a guess?

S

Take two of these and call me tomorrow

If I ever get sick, I mean seriously ill, I'm probably a goner.  Checked out.  Movin' on.  

This morning I saw a commercial on TV for Cancer Treatment Centers of America.  The guy (a patient) asked, "Do you know all about the type cancer you have?  Have you read everything you can about it?  Have you asked your doctor every possible question you can think of?"

On the rare occasion I go to the doctor K asks me when I get home, "What did the doctor say?"

"He said to take these."

"What are they?"

"Little white pills."

"What's wrong with you?"

"I'm sick."

"Well duh!  What specifically is wrong?"

"I dunno, but these little white pills will fix it."

K says I should always ask the doctor if he's color blind.  She says if he is, and he gets the color of my pills wrong, I'm screwed.

Medical stuff just bores me to tears.  I'm a very good 'delegator'.  I don't need to know everything about "X" as long as the person I delegate to knows all about it.  That's why they are doctors and I'm not.  They like that stuff.  I don't.

"What have I got, Doc?"

"X"

"Gimme the Reader's Digest version."

"Do this, don't do that, take these, pay that."

See....simple.

Why do we always have to complicate things?

(And if that doesn't work, I've asked K to make sure I have The Mother of All Wake's, and you're all invited. ;)

S