Should you be a hypochondriac (by default) don’t feel discouraged to answer my question:
How much thought do you give to your body – and its function(s)?
There is that school of thought that your body is your temple. It isn’t. It’s a sewer. Ask your liver, your kidneys, your bladder. Neither am I surprised that the colon is as long as it is. In fact, the colon, both parts of it, is the perfect symbol for anyone who procrastinates: Why take a short cut when you can make it long? Heart being the motor – goes without saying we should listen to it.
Then there are minor players. I dread the day my oesophagus will play up. I have a special relationship with my oesophagus. So far so good. There is a group photograph (taken in the summer of 1990 – my brother’s wedding, and yes, thanks for asking, close to their 25th wedding anniversary he has just fled a most accommodating nest). On that photograph – three tiers – my father’s longest standing friend is on the right, I am on the furthest left. LSF died not long afterwards. Cancer of the oesophagus. Just like that. Young(ish). Anyway, yes, I know my punchlines often take their time coming (see colon above). When I saw that photo I thought to myself: I’ll be next. To die that is. From whatever cause. What I find mildly disconcerting that I might be right. No one else of those others, I don’t know, say thirty people has yet bitten the dust.
Pen your obituaries now. And forget everything I ever said. Then there are the side players. Who ever gives any thought to their pancreas? Or their gall bladder? Beware the gall bladder. And pancreas will takes its revenge when you are otherwise occupied.
What I don’t get, though they are sweet in their own way, are the expendables: Appendix (I still have mine), and what’s it called in English, have forgotten now, ‘Milz’, the one that makes new blood cells. Not to forget tonsils. My tonsils are awesome. When they swell they swell. And they do swell. Once a year. For three days. Luckily my mother – despite the fashion of the day – had presence of mind to NOT allow my tonsils to be removed. My mother is a mild person – but when she puts her foot down she puts her foot down. Same here. My son has got his tonsils. Live with them.
All of the above neatly bringing us to skin. Skin is awesome. Skin are the bricks to hold the construction together. And your innards out of sight. Can you imagine the view you’d have of yourself without skin? Don’t. Unless you are a forensic pathologist.
Before I sign off I’ll bow to bones. The skeleton which gives us shape, keeps us upright and rarely makes itself known. To me that is.
My god! Dearest Brain. Please forgive me. Think of the old adage: LAST but not least! What would I do without you? Become a piece of vegetable in someone’s Ratatouille. That’s what.