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do you deal with this kind of decision and its consequences? No
matter how thinly you slice something, there are always two sides. I
think some people forget that when they give their answer to the
transplant question. After all, if that were true that would make death a
solution and how can death be a solution? I’m one of those who
think it is. Would you consider a transplant should the need arise? For what is ostensibly such a spectacular question, my response is always, “What for?” which is very unspectacular. Initially such an abbreviated answer may seem crass and ignorant and oblivious to the enormity of the subject, but I find the whole concept of transplanting so wrong on so many levels and in so many ways I feel like that response is all the question deserves. I don’t get it at all. Incidentally, when I say wrong, I’m not suggesting you’re a sinner if you dare to contemplate a transplant. I mean wrong according to my set of principles and priorities and what I stand for. Whatever that may be. I’m not making judgements; this is just about my perspective. The fact of the matter is I wouldn’t accept a transplant even if it was guaranteed successful, and it’s basically because I just don’t see the world has enough to offer me to put myself through that experience just so I can stay in it a bit longer. I don’t have too much empathy for Germans, apart from Jens Lehmann. Particularly Germans with a Poodle fetish. But miserable philosopher Arthur Schopenhauer succinctly articulated my view of this existence when he wrote, “this life is so short, questionable and evanescent that it is not worth the trouble of major efforts”. To put it another way, I just can’t accept that this reality is all there is to everything. That this was the best thing the good Lord could come up with and that there’s nothing else. If you examine for a second how people live, you’ll start to see what I’m talking about. Why is it that most people look forward to going to sleep and resent having to wake up? What kind of existence is that when you’d rather just not be aware of anything? Next time you’re in rush hour traffic look at the faces of everyone inching their way to work or home. Ask those people how magnificent they think their existence is. The M6, soap operas, constant drizzle, taxes, two weeks away a year, teenagers, bank holidays, reality television shows, terrorism, natural disasters, call centres, Americans, wars, disease, poverty, Estate agents, dinner parties, fifty years of solid work so you can spend the remainder of your life living below the poverty line in a cardigan. Why do newborn babies cry? It’s because they know their lives have just taken a turn for the worse. Given a choice between being out here and being inside a woman, I know where I’d rather be. The Romans used to believe in the Goddess of Fortune. She appeared on coins with a cornucopia in one hand symbolising prosperity and a rudder in the other hand symbolising a sudden change of direction and unpredictability. In this existence even those enjoying what would appear to be an envious life with wealth and health and as much cheese as any one person could eat, the real good stuff, can have it all taken away in an instant. A beautiful life that has taken twenty years to build can vanish in one storm, one car crash, one phone call from an oncologist. I don’t understand or want to be a part of that reality any more than is absolutely necessary. Schopenhauer compared the world to prison life. And to me accepting a transplant would be tantamount to coming to the end of thirty-two year stretch for a crime you didn’t commit, just like the A-Team, with your freedom so close it makes your nipples tingle, and then being persuaded by someone to re-offend just so you can stay in prison. Yes there are some good things that occasionally happen in life but even prisoners have a telly and access to gym equipment and a flushable toilet, but as good as those things are, they are still in prison. This may all seem a bit gloomy and ridiculous, but I don’t see myself as pessimistic. I see myself as an optimist. I’m looking ahead to a better time that I am absolutely convinced I will find when I finally put my foot through that metal bucket. If you doubt my sunny disposition, I buy a lottery ticket every Saturday. I’m willing to play even though the odds are staked against me 16,000,000 to 1. How’s that for positive adventurous thinking. There was a time when everyone assumed the Earth was flat until some fella, Bob I think his name was, decided to get in his boat and head towards the horizon and he wasn’t going to stop no matter what he found when he got there even if it meant falling off the edge of the Earth into a blissful nothing. But he was confident there had to be something else out there and probably thought it ridiculous that the Earth really was flat. And of course, he was right. Rumour has it he died of scurvy shortly after, but he died a happy and enlightened man. I’m just taking that sense of manifest destiny to the next level and I think just like Bob I’ll be rewarded for my sense of adventure. Even scurvy and a blissful nothing sounds good to me, especially when you consider Noel Edmonds is considering a come back. This kind of dilemma is all about perspective. Everyone is unique and we all see the world in different ways and we make our decisions accordingly and all need to be respected. The trick, whichever way you go, is to put a positive slant on it so you don’t spend your spare time with Poodles. The route I have chosen may involve a pretty undignified and possibly painful ending and potentially it could be not far away, but the closer I come to falling to pieces, the closer I will be to the horizon and ultimately a new beginning and that’s how I’ll deal with it. How do you feel about that theory?
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As with all the content of pwcf.net, nothing should be taken as medically correct.