Mortality and hoodies.

Day 18 in the big C house and we have our first eviction. My magnificent mane, although  it’s rather more of a mangy mane now, will be sheared off in about 1 hour. I’ve gone past the initial shock and sadness and now my hair looks crap, it will be the humane thing to put it out of it’s misery.

A delivery arrived 2 days ago addressed to me, I opened it and it was a rather desirable hoodie,  I’d mentioned to Kate that I wanted one so assumed she’d ordered it so put it on and I looked hip ( well I thought so). When Kate arrived home she pointed out that it was Grace’s present for her boyfriend, good job I’d removed all the grey hairs that had stuck to the inside of the hood.

Anyway, my sadly disappointed face moved Kate to insist that we ordered one for me. It arrived yesterday and I wore it to take Grace to the doctors and then food shopping. It felt very different wearing a large hood, like I was some sort of monk. Must say I quite enjoyed it, saw a couple of Spanish folk from my school, they said ola with a slightly alarmed look on their faces. The doctor we saw was the one I saw almost 3 months ago who urgently referred me. I told her the results and said how impressed the consultant was with her referral.

Wearing a hoodie also gives me some small insight into what it feels like for all the other hoodies. We have more cctv cameras in this country than the rest of Europe put together, truly we are one nation under cctv.

Well this alliterative gambling is going well, profit of £75 this week, Stinky Socks at 16 to 1!

Read an article yesterday about a doctor called Atul Gawande who argues that medicine has skewed our attitude to mortality. His latest book: Being Mortal: Illness, Medicine and What Matters in the End argues that mortality has been made into a medical experience and evidence is pointing to this failing. I assume that his thesis is that we are losing sight of and a proper appreciation of death. I too have thought this for a while and now I’m in a cancerous episode thinking more about mortality. Of course I don’t want to die, at least not yet, but Gawande has a point. But, many will say, this leads to preparing and then sacrificing the old and sick. Gawande argues that we are already sacrificing them to the altar of our refusal to accept the inexorability of our life cycle, prolonging life at all costs. Is this along the lines of what you were suggesting David? As Henry Marsh, the writer of the article, writes: to cure one disease means to die from another. We are, after all, mortal.

Anyway, life is a sexually transmitted disease with a 100% fatality rate.

Phew, heavy stuff, but soon I’ll be lighter as my shearing is imminent.

Kepe on keeping on, with or without hair, love Duncan.

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