Looks Can Be Deceiving

One of the comments to the previous post made reference to being grateful for good health, which is sound advice.  But there’s another side to that–not deluding yourself that because you are not morbidly obese, on a waiting list for an organ, or some of the other obvious signs of ill health, that you are in fact “the picture of good health.”

I was prompted to post that photo yesterday by Annette doing the same, but the truth of the matter is, I have been trying to convince myself to do it since November.  It’s ironic since Heidi thought about doing it long ago, and at just about the time I was sure I never would do it, Annette did.

I saw my birthday last year as a good time to do it.  It was a challenge to myself to be better at forty than I was in my thirties.  Well, I copped out and now that means I have less than six months to do something to make the next picture one that will not leave me covering my face in shame (really that was more for dramatic effect than anything).

Good health is arbitrary in some respects and it certainly does not have a face.  There is no such thing as the picture of health (unless it’s an encouraging MRI or CT Scan). There are people who looked great up to the minute they were on their backs in a morgue.  Looking sickly is not a harbinger to heart disease, cancer, and other fatal situations anymore than looking fantastic indicates you’ll live to be a hundred.   

The very reason I posted the picture and am determined to do something is a lack of good health.  Early heart attacks and strokes are common in my family–I am a mere ten to fifteen years from the time I could potentially have one of those.

I’d like to avoid that if I can.  My allergies, which thanks to where I live as well as their own tendency to change frequently–i.e., I am no longer allergic to a tree I was for many years, but am now allergic to something I never was before–can elevate both my heart rate and blood pressure, which becomes serious unless they are short-term.

In addition, allergies lead to sinus issues which can develop into upper and lower respiratory problems, problems that someone who smoked for years will have a harder time overcoming.  Add to that the years I did not eat as responsibly as I should have, and never exercised, and you will see that however good I may look in my plaid shorts I am a disaster waiting to happen.

I’m sure most of you are familiar with Real Age.  It is based on a set age for death, with your current age determined by all your health factors.  So, someone who is literally fifty years of age but is extremely healthy may have a real age of only thirty-six.  Whereas someone who is thirty nine (and doesn’t even look it) but has not done the best with regard to health could have a real age of over fifty.  No, that is not hypothetical. 

Trust me, it’s a rude awakening–being told that thirty more years is about the best you can hope for.  Unless major changes are made, I will predecease my readers by a good margin. (Except Res who I plan to convince to jump off the Palace Theater when she hears of my death, similar to what some of Rudolf Valentino’s fans did. Should that be inconvenient then at least do that Lady in Black routine and leave a cala lily (no roses) on my grave annually.)

Edited to say:  This post is not intended to be at all negative.  I see all the above as challenges to be overcome.  I was never goal-oriented (I don’t even care for the word goal which sounds like a something you’d have surgically removed), but I think good health and a longer life are perhaps one thing I am willing to make a priority.

And besides, I have to outlive someone I know because another goal I have set for myself is to be the crazy person at someone’s funeral–you know, the one who throws himself on the coffin and begs to be buried with the deceased.   If any of you have the unfortunate luck to go before me, I will do this to ensure your funeral makes the papers.