Agony by Egon Schiele/1912 |
Since Tuesday this week, I've been overtaken by a skin condition called Shingles. I know, we've all seen the commercial: the guy rubbing his back while the narrator tells us how painful it is and if you're over 50, you should get the Shingles vaccination. In fact, I think it is a frequent guest advertiser on CNN, if I'm not mistaken. One of those commercials you've seen so often, your lips start moving as you murmur the voice over you perform like second nature.
So what if I'm over 50? Why would I even be bothered? Forget that as I hit my 50s I was diagnosed with Type II Diabetes. No matter that the dietitian and doctor tried to convince me that it was shitty genetics, like a curse in the health family history battle of hereditary propensity to inherit one day.
Yes, I watched with not-quite smugness, but not a far stretch of superiority while watching Brett Michaels pitch a comeback under the umbrella of diabetes as a disease. No, no one else had put the "ailment" I perceived it NOT to be to an outright kiss of health trauma and continuous uphill climb.
Being born and raised in the Sixties ( #60s ) I basically grew up with anything and everything, where moderation conflicted with self indulgence that the era really should be identified with. Everything IN EXCESS was the motto of the times, and restraint was a disorder and "anything goes" was the order of the day.
I guess it shouldn't be any wonder that once your hit your 50s, your health becomes the legacy you created all those many dreams ago. Where nerds could be gazillionaires, and a suave businessman and personality could become the President of the United States. To demonstrate that I am Canadian, read the previous sentence again ending with ..... could become the President of the United States.
You see, if I were American, I would have said: "President of the United States of America". I just wondered if any other Canadians thought about the ramifications of our cousins to the south consideration and respect for us to their north.
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