Will You Hate Me When I Die

I am not preoccupied with the thought of death.  Immortality is exclusively within the realm of the ancient mythological gods and vampires and not the mortal man , such as I.  Thus, from time to time, the dormant thought  of  my eminent demise springs to life - no pun intended.

As a child, I ambled along a path fraught with measles, mumps, chicken pox, rubella, polio scares, pertussis, tetanus, diphtheria and other childhood diseases that were eventually eradicated. While in the military, I was inoculated to  prevent yellow fever, plague, small pox and other garden variety diseases that ran rampant in the more exotic parts of the world. Of course, you always wondered in the back of your mind whether or not the vaccines actually worked or would produce some everlasting side effects . Might these laboratory creations  cause me to crave the taste of human flesh? Was I doomed to be a walking , talking test tube?

My first surgery was at the age of eight and performed in the nick of time as a burst appendix in that day and age was  akin to a death sentence. I have gone under the knife - or scope - numerous times since and with each the quantity of anesthesia required to still me has grown  and the sleep  deepened.  If in fact the number of incidences of  being anesthetized is not a physiological problem, it still has a psychological effect.

Then there  is the physical damage that my body has sustained  throughout the years. I have been whacked in the head by baseball bats, canes and heavy,  ornamentally - adorned umbrella handles. I once ran into a tackling dummy's solid - steel block  without a helmet. I have crashed to  the concrete, head first, from atop fire plugs, trash cans and  bicycles. I  chipped a tooth in one fall and had another tooth fractured once by an errant flying wallpaper paste brush. Arthritis plays a  major role in my life from a fractured jaw, hand and a few fingers. The twice broken nose and the right great toe brought down the house with laughter. Dog bites were common place and I can still remember that little Chihuahua  gripping my right ankle tightly in its razor sharp little teeth,  as I shook and shook  in a desperate attempt to free myself. I have a few scars on my body as the result of violent acts. Could have been worse. I temporarily blinded myself in one eye in a freak home improvement accident. I was temporarily blinded in both eyes in a foreign country where I was non-existent - according to the  government.

I try new diets designed  for a healthy body. After two weeks, tops, I am back to the artery clogging  pizza, butter, cheese and fried chicken. Copious amounts of beer, along with other addictions,  surely take a toll.

Relationships haven’t helped the psyche. I dare say I have not been blameless in the death of a few.

All things in life are relative. Many would say that I should be thankful that I’m not missing a leg or arm or both like some returning Vet.  So. I ask you, do you think the same thought when you have a  searing migraine? How about when you are miserable with the flu? When your baby is sick?

Every day I see  where someone younger than me has died. Someone whose body, racked with some ailment, has given out. I also see those who live well into their  80s and 90s, but for the most part they had a relatively cushy life and the money to sustain them. Haves v. have nots.

No, this isn’t my attempt at a pity party. Just looking for an answer to a simple question.  Based upon my history, one day my body will, suddenly, either explode or implode. That doesn’t matter.  Its inevitable. But,  will you hate me when I die?