Carpe That Diem
Warning - I have always been fairly flippant about death… I continue that here…
A couple of things have happened recently to really start me questioning the things that are important in life.
A few weeks ago my aunt passed away. She had been a very fat lady for most of my life. She had a couple of heart attacks and was given the “lose weight or die” speech from the doctors. So, she lost weight. Lots of it. I don’t know how much, because this was a relative I saw once a decade at weddings, so not like we were close… I just know that my whole life she was very large, then one wedding we went to, and she was just a tiny little person wrapped up in way too much skin.
So… doctors told her to lose weight or die. She lost the weight. Dieted. Worked out a lot. Was living that “healthy” lifestyle.
Was a skinny person for, I would guess, 4 years? 5 years?
Then… she had a heart attack and died at age, I think, 64… maybe 65.
So… was that just her time? Was the time she spent skinny time she would not have had otherwise? Or did she just have health problems that would have caused her to die anyway? Or was the stress of maintaining her skinny lifestyle a contributing factor that killed her? Who knows?
Now… I know the diet and fitness industry will say that she died because she had been so fat for so long prior to losing the weight, and the damage was done… But that’s not what they tell you at the front end of the “lose weight or die” speech. They certainly imply some benefit to “lose weight” … i.e. - the opposite of “die”.
So then, to compound my thinking*, over the last weekend, a woman who works here on my campus also passed away. She was 50? 51? To look at her, you would think she was perfectly healthy. But her family went out for a walk on Sunday, came home to find her dead in her bed, presumably having passed away while lying down for a moment…
No word on the cause, and I suspect I won’t hear anyway, because I am pretty far from that department. But it’s just one of those things… perfectly healthy seeming person drops dead suddenly.
It happens.
So… we eat right, we exercise, we take care of ourselves. And then, guess what? No one here gets out alive!
So what’s more important? Living our lives in a futile effort to achieve a “perfect” state of health that is eventually going to break down anyway? Or living our lives in a way that brings us joy and happiness and comfort?
100 years after I am dead, is ANYONE, ANYWHERE going to care if one night I decide to have cake and ice cream for dinner instead of vegetables and tofu? I think not.
I’m not saying that I am planning to rush towards self destruction. I don’t see any point in deliberately doing things that I think might harm my health just for the sake of doing them… (because if that were true, I would have tried Heroin or LSD years ago - the concept does interest me, but not enough to overcome the health risks).
But if I were to walk outside and get hit by a car… will the last thought that goes through my brain be… “man, I wish I had done more crunches so that my corpse would have really smokin’ hot abs”? I hope not.
And then there’s the question of how long I actually want to live? I joke that my retirement plan is once I turn 75 I will eat nothing but cheesecake for breakfast, lunch, and dinner until it kills me. Because how long will my retirement money last anyway? Do I want to live long enough to get some horrible terminal illness that will sap my health and my IRA? Or would I rather die suddenly of a heart attack at 80 and not go down the road of decrepitude?
I don’t have to answer that question yet, but it looms…
Until then… I think that I will try to remember that being alive it not a punishment to be endured. Life should be good. Life should be fun. And if that means that I want to eat cookie instead of a whole grain health snack, or go for a leisurely walk instead of a forced death jog… well that’s not going to kill me, and if it does ,well, oh well.
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*Yeah, and, I know it’s selfish that two people have died and what I am posting here is how it has impacted me and my thinking, but that’s what I’ve got, sorry.
Don’t be sorry at all… it just goes to show that *everything* that happens not only TO us, but AROUND us, has some impact if one is even marginally aware of the world around them…
I completely empathize and ‘get’ what you are saying. And a ^5 to you!
My husband is turning 63 on Memorial Day… 63! Just to say it makes me almost gasp.
I am ten years younger than him, but HIS turning 63 is really bothering ME, for some reason. Other people’s ages (and deaths) can make us think, huh?
Anyway, back to your discussion; Life is short. Whether you live to 65, 80 or 90, in the end, it will seem waaaaay too short. And you’re right, NO ONE gets out alive!
I choose not to live that life obsessively worrying about my weight, or how I look in other people’s eyes. I am what I am. I have so much GOOD in my life; a husband who loves me (and me him), three grown healthy kids, 2 beautiful granddaughters, my parents are still with us, my siblings all live within 10 miles of me, and although things get rocky now and then; I mean, I’m not wealthy, I drive a 10 yr old car, sometimes bills pile up and little emergencies distract me from the happier things in life — my life is pretty OK.
I don’t think being THIN will make it any more OK, really. But if someday I am thin(ner), cool, I’ll enjoy that aspect of my wellbeing just as much as I enjoy it now.
I’m pretty much a fatalist, and have been ever since I got hit by a car back in 1972 (when I was almost 19). I had been having dreams for a couple of weeks that I was crossing the street after work and a big white car was coming at me and hit me (I say dreams, but more like nightmares). Because of them, I was being much more careful about crossing streets (I lived in Spokane at the time), but fat lot of good it did me. I was crossing the street one afternoon after work, 3 lanes of traffic had stopped to let me cross (in the crosswalk, no less) and when I looked up in the 4th lane, there was this big white car coming at me. I started running, and all I remember is flying through the air, and then a lot of people standing around asking me if I was OK. I said I was fine, I just couldn’t get up off the ground. Come to find out, my pelvis was fractured in 3 places and both bones in my lower left leg were broken.
So all the care that I took to avoid getting hit by that car didn’t do me a bit of good, even with the warning I had from the nightmares. Which is why I figure when it’s my time to go, it’s my time to go and nothing I’ve done or not done is going to have shortened or lengthened my time here. It’s also why I’m determined to enjoy as much of my life as I can because there are no guarantees about how long you have on this earth. Just as well make the most of the time you have - make it the best you can for yourself and others.
Weird and creepy about the car accident! I think that make me something of a fatalist too!
From my understanding of the research, the only weights that show a significant increase of risk are at the extreme ends — too thin or too fat. Is that because a too thin or too fat person is engaging in unhealthy behaviors or does the excess accumulation or loss of weight have a negative health impact? I lean toward the lifestyle answer, as you know.
So, to me, it sort of seems like unless you are hellbent on self-destruction, you can live a relatively carefree, enjoyable life, whether fat or small, and not self-flagellate yourself for not being X enough (where X is thin, successful, healthy, or whatever value you perceive yourself as lacking).
Here’s a weird, but interesting example. My mom is a health nut, vegetarian to the max, and she has about the best lifestyle of anyone I know. But here’s the downer: she’s constantly constipated! (She’d kill me if she knew I told people this.) I think it’s because of her diet, but who knows. Whatever the case, she’s physically miserable in that area. If it’s because she’s eating like a rabbit, is that really worth the pain? Maybe it is for her, but that’s her choice to make, nobody else’s.
As far as making the deaths about you, that’s almost unavoidable. Some of you know I’ve been looking into the story of a priest who had a powerfully positive impact on me in my childhood who has been accused of abusing a 17 or 18 year old boy. I’ve learned a lot and spoken to several people with direct knowledge of the abuse and it’s absolutely horrifying.
Yet I keep thinking about “What does this do to me and my faith and my past experiences?”
Well who gives a fuck about me?!?!
If the allegations are true, there are men whose lives were utterly destroyed by this man and I’m worried about hypothetical “What if he had attacked me?” sort of shit. And then I have to swat that away and try and put things in context.
Ah humans, we’re so consistently selfish, aren’t we?
Very thoughtful post, thanks!
Peace,
Shannon
The philosophy I live by goes something like this: I have no idea how long my life is going to be, but whether I get another decade or another 7 decades, I want to have the best quality of life I can. For me that includes being as pain free and healthy as possible, having the energy and ability to do the things that interest me as well as enjoying delicious foods. I wouldn’t want to live a life without all the flavors/textures/aromas of the food I love. But if my genetics hold true, it’s possible that I’ll be here well into my 90s and I want to be like my grandmother who in her late 80s walks 4 miles every day and has the stamina/fitness to go on all sorts of fun vacations and keep up with her great-grandchildren.
As always, for me it comes down to balance. I may get hit by a bus tomorrow, but chances are I won’t so I balance my life accordingly.
Balance is important. You can’t live as though you have no future at all. (I read the ant and the grasshopper as a kid, but I do not believe that any friendly ants are really going to save the grasshoppers from their own bad decisions in the long run).
Having said that - if you ever saw the bus drivers in my town, I do not think you’d be so sanguine about your chances of getting run down by one!
Attrice is saying what I was going to say. It’s not just lifespan that’s important- it’s quality of life. Weight, at least extreme overweight as opposed to social overweight, can play into that.
I believe people should live their best life regardless of their size. There is no such thing as “perfect health”. You can be at your best health wise but that’s it. Death does not discriminate; it comes regardless of your state of well being; it is a fact. Also, we have seen people who have really small and large bodies (two extremities); I think they are probably suffering from a disorder. It would be wise to observe their behaviors and listen to them speak; hence, treating the condition instead of the body size; it will change in a subtle or drastic way. I don’t like it when people make assumptions based on someone size. This is why the healthcare system and people in America are unhealthy.
Hidi -
“treating the condition instead of the body size”
Awesome line! Totally agree.
noceleryplease -
As always, you are excellent at writing profound posts.
For me, at least, the argument “life is hard and then you die” is the most persuasive one when it comes to HOW I live my life. I weigh my options carefully and then I take the path that seems most secure in getting me happiness.
This is posed as a sort of “was it worth reducing the quality of her life” type thing, versus length. I’m not sure that was true. I have lost weight, and keep it off with food reduction and exercise. About 10% of my waking life sucks more (less tasty food), but about 90% is better (less pain, more stamina, move around more and better). “Quality of life” for me did not suffer with being fat until I hit about my mid 40s, but now I feel a good deal younger, if somewhat more chocolate-deprived. I guess it depends on how you do it, or how extreme you are in self-deprivation.