Doctor's Note

There is a note on my military medical record, after I tried (unsuccessfully) to staple together a cut that may in hindsight have required some stitches that said something along the lines of:

“He has been counselled that he is not a doctor and must stop the self-surgeries”

Context, there had been a few failed experiments before the exasperated Medical Officer had to remind me that I didn’t have a medical degree:

1. Using leeches to reduce swelling from a spider bite in the jungle (surprisingly successful).

2. Using superglue to plug a hole in my leg left there by a pungee stick (less successful).

These days, I have a plethora of annual screenings to make sure that the big C stays away.

Every year, they scare the crap out of me.

But whilst being confronted with our own mortality can be scary, it is also where:

· We learn the most about ourselves.

(Our intrinsic motivations)

· We remember that this awesome rollercoaster of life ends in the same place for all of us.

(A caution against nihilism and fatalism – this should inspire existentialism)

· We understand who has our six.

(Sad to say – some friends will melt away - sack ‘em. Others will stand up to be counted – make sure that you are ready to return that loyalty when the time comes).

· We start to prioritise our lives the way we should have all along.

(Making the time for physical, emotional and psychological care, rehabilitation and stability)

When we accept our own mortality, we can see what was right in front of us all along: That this ain’t no dress rehearsal.

Ladies: https://lnkd.in/gM8ijZkm

Gentlemen: https://lnkd.in/gyMTPCT7