It's interesting to note how people deteriorate as they get older. Sometimes their bodies fall apart; sometimes it's the mind. If I had a choice, I think I'd pick hanging on to my brain. If you loose your mind, what difference does it make if you have a body? Even with a sick body you can still think. You can take drugs for whatever ails you and still read, talk to friends, or just lie there and let you imagination take you anywhere you want to go.
Unfortunately, due to the curse of genetics, I don't get a choice. A few of my neurons are up there, floating about, not connecting to anything. I picture them swimming around in grey matter looking for a sand bar to attach themselves to. But I'm doing so much better since I've been on medication, something I'm not planning on going off of, ever. My doctor told me I'd end up in an Alzheimer's ward if I did. That may or may not be true, but I'm not planning on taking the chance. I may be half crazy, but I'm not stupid.
My sister, Heather, is the opposite of me. Not just in looks--She inherited the Irish genes, I got the Swedish ones--but she also got the good brain with the not-so-healthy body. She has Fibromyalgia, which keeps her in physical pain and fatigue a lot, along with a host of other maladies. But people look at her and can't believe she's sick. She's perky and cute and has big boobs. Real ones. But that's like all of us, right? Not the boobs, of course, but we get good things along with bad. It's like God is the dealer in a big card game. He deals the hands. We get some good cards, some bad. If we're smart, we don't get mad and throw our cards on the table. We just play the hand we're dealt.
No comments:
Post a Comment