Magic Pills

I have high blood pressure and high cholesterol. I am not obese. I am very active. I walk, I hike and I ride my bicycle enough miles in one year that I could pedal from New York City to Los Angeles (2,790 miles) and back. I try to watch what I eat though I do enjoy the occasional Waffle House All-star breakfast, a quarter-pounder with cheese and yes fries and Oreo’s. So who do I have to thank for these afflictions? Well I have to start with Mom and Dad because they are the last ones standing, but I know it goes back generations.

I try to watch the NBC evening news every night because I am a news junkie. I don’t know when it started or how long it has been going on but all of the commercials that run during the news are for drug companies and I do mean all.

I realize that having high blood pressure and high cholesterol is pretty mundane compared to oh say erectile dysfunction but I am pretty confident, though I don’t have any scientific proof, erectile dysfunction won’t kill you. I know high blood pressure will.

There are important drugs out there that solve important issues, issues that threaten our lives. I am not dishing on those afflicted with erectile dysfunction I am sure it is a very personal and psychological concern. But at some point, even for drugs that correct really bad things, we have to ask ourselves when is enough, enough.

Currently, in the real estate development business, the two most active development categories are Storage and Senior Care. Think about it, one is being built to store all the shit we can’t fit in our house or apartment and the second is being built to store our elderly. We are living longer and honestly, if the truth be told, living too long. Our brains and bodies weren’t built for all these years. Yes, occasionally some freak of nature comes along who looks like he can still kick your ass at 92, but that is the exception rather than the rule.

Prolonging life with magic pills at some point is no longer life. I really struggle with this as I watch a friend deal with her mother’s Alzheimer’s. The cost, both personal and monetary, is astronomical. Please understand, I am not advocating ending the lives of terminally ill people. But my friends Mother is not going to get better, as a matter of fact it will be a slow, slow grind over the coming months or years, tough to watch and even tougher to pay for.

There has to be a balance but what that balance is I don’t know. Here is what I do know, people 65+ represented 14.5% of the population in the year 2014 but are expected to grow to be 21.7% of the population by 2040 (I will be 79). We can’t keep building more storage facilities. We have to come-up with a better solution, a better choice, a better life for those nearing the end of theirs and a better option for the people that love them.

“We do as much harm holding onto programs and people past their natural life span as we do when we employ massive organizational air strikes. However, destroying comes at the end of life’s cycle, not as a first response.” –  Margaret J Wheatley 

About ends and beginnings blog

I am a frustrated writer and poet waiting to be discovered. A stand-up philosopher performing on a street corner near you. A Christian with questions but I don’t want to hear your answers. A Buddhist with a bumper sticker on my truck to prove it. A collector of quotes. A grower of lettuce. The Patron Saint of earthworms who name their children after me. A cyclist whose big ass strains the seams of his Lycra bibs. I am American by birth, Southern by the grace of God. My goal in life is to leave an imprint on the lives of the people I love not a footprint on the earth. I am a son, a husband, a father composed of 65%-Oxygen, 18%-Carbon, 10%-Hydrogen, 3%-Nitrogen, 3%-Diet Coke and 1%-Oreo.
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8 Responses to Magic Pills

  1. gapawa says:

    I’ve always wondered about this practice of prolonging life “just because” or for some moral reason. So much of what we do is sort of swept under the rug, we don’t discuss it because it is painful to do. But there is at least one thing we can do, and that is to visit our grandparents more often!

    Liked by 1 person

    • When I was a kid I would spend 2-3 weeks each summer with my Grandparents on their farm. When I was around 8 or 9 eating lunch in the field I told my Grandfather I would do this forever. I will never forget what he told me; “No you won’t. When you get to be 13 or 14 you won’t have time for me, but that’s okay”. With tears in my eyes I told him no that wasn’t true and just smiled and said okay. Of course he was right. I loved that man. He has been dead for 20 years but my love for him has never faded. Thanks for reading and for taking the time to share your thoughts.

      Liked by 1 person

  2. Cara says:

    And my sister loves to say I shouldn’t use Prozac as a magic pill for depression. It’s bad to use a pill, she claims, & I should be getting to the “root cause” of my depression. The “root cause” of my depression, which I’ve discussed with my mental health professional, is that when I was ten, my maternal grandfather raped me & rather than tell anyone immediately, I kept it a secret and because I couldn’t bear the weight of that secret, life took me places I never wanted to go (dark places). Although my youngest sister was playing in the next room when my grandfather raped me, she STILL has no clue it ever happened (I’ve promised our parents I’d never tell her), and so when I refuse to answer her as to what the root of my depression is, she says I’m refusing to deal with it, which of course creates a rift between us.

    Liked by 3 people

    • That is a promise no one should have ever asked you to make, and it was asked for purely selfish reasons, not to help you or your sister.. For your own sake, and your sister’s, you should tell her. You may not think so but she deserves to know. If I were your sister, I would want to know.

      Liked by 2 people

      • Cara says:

        Well, the first time he raped me, the day after that he wanted to do it again and I said no…he said if I didn’t he’d rape my sisters in my stead, and I was the oldest, I wouldn’t let him do that to them. So I took it, all summer, so they would never know. I don’t want them to ever know, my mother doesn’t want anyone to know. If I tell my youngest sister, it would wreck her memory of our grandfather, it would start an all out war between my mother and myself…no good can come of it.

        Liked by 2 people

        • No good is coming of it now–for you, while everyone else is just fine. I know this is your mother’s father, but she should care about your mental health more than tarnishing her father’s memory. And your sister’s memory is a false one, for he was not the man she thought he was. Sometimes, we have to put ourself first, and you, dear woman, have been putting everyone else before you for the majority of your life. I think you feel shame and blame for what happened to you; other than your grandfather, no one should feel shame or blame–except your own mother whose selfishness is preventing you from healing from this horrible wound. I KNOW your pain. ❤️


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