Sheared in Half
You probably have about a year left, my organs tell me, despite my brain insisting that I have at least 30 left to go. I got this awkward and frustrating news in an email from my body right before breakfast on Saturday. I was reading the back of the cereal box when my gmail notifier beeped, and there it was, right under my word of the day: Don't be upset but your days are rather numbered. You probably have about a year left. Bold, twelve-point font, gently indented, signed "Heart muscle."
I have known about my impending demise for some time now, but was expecting at least to be formally told about it in a quiet room in a hospital one evening. Actually, this news doesn't really bother me, since for months I have been living in fear that the elevator cables would break while I was stepping on or off the elevator car, causing it to plunge down at the exact moment I am halfway out the elevator, thereby shearing my body in half vertically.
This would be a much less elegant death than, say, being consumed by a massive nuclear fireball, but since it seems one of these nights my body is simply going to shut down while sleeping anyway, I should consider the shutdown to be a more frustrating and awkward way to go than the elevator thing. They say you should listen to your body but if you have a reliable internet connection gmail can do it for you.
- Sunday, October 07, 2007 at 00:56
