In corpore insano

by Paul Kandarian

Had a discussion with my body the other day. It went like this:

Me: Hey, I need to have a word with you about how we’ve been feeling lately.

Body: What?

Me (rolling eyes): I said I need to have a word with you about…

Body: Speak up, I can’t hear you.

Me: (louder) I said I need… oh, I see what you did there. Yeah. Funny.

Body: Well, we haven’t got a lot to laugh about these days, do we? We’re gonna be 68 this fall, things are hurting we’ve never had hurt before, and frankly you’re being a baby about it.

Me: What? A baby? I’ve never been a baby, whaddya talking about?

Body: Oh really? That time when you were a kid, you flipped your bike over racing around the barn and landed on your head, and you went screaming and crying home to your mommy…

Me: Our mommy, idiot.

Body: Whatever, you went whining to her, “My head hurts, Mommy, wah-wahwah-wah…”

Me: (Deadpan stare) I was seven years old.

Body: You coulda manned up.

Me: With what? I wasn’t even close to hitting puberty yet.

Body: So what do you want?

Me: I’m trying to figure out what the hell’s going on! My left shoulder’s killing me, my right knee’s throbbing like a steamy novel, my back is making me walk funny, and…

Body: Hey, old man.

Me: What?

Body: No, I mean hey, you’re an old man. That was like my answer.

Me: 67 isn’t old.

Body: In body years, it’s old. A man’s life expectancy is about 76 years. Know what it was 200 years ago? 41. Know what it was in prehistoric times? 25.

Me: What’s your point?

Body: My point is we’re outliving ourselves. This body you call home, and which you didn’t take very good care of for a long time, by the way, but this body – me – wasn’t designed to live this long. Back in the day when I’d last maybe 25 years, all I had to do was be born and make babies and then die.

Me: Damn, that’s a boring existence.

Body: Yeah, well, except for the making babies part. But we spent the rest of the time just trying to survive. And living in caves, avoiding being eaten by saber-tooth tigers, and fighting to the death with other clans trying to steal our early Uggs, you know, them animal-fur boots, wasn’t exactly a good formula for a long life.

Me: So what’re you saying?

Body: I’m saying, duh, we’ve outlived ourselves, are you not listening? This body, this vessel, I’m not supposed to last this long. Evolution hasn’t caught up to the medical and societal advances, if you want to call them that, that have resulted in longer lives. After we do the baby thing, our bodies think it’s time to say buh-bye. But now we’re living 20, 40, 60 years longer.

Me: But… but I feel younger, ya know? I do things, I move around, I work out, have fun. I think like a young man, dammit, doesn’t that count for something, that young frame of mind?

Body: So according to that philosophy, if you buy a gallon of milk with an expiration date of two weeks from now and hang onto it for a year, and think it’ll be good, it’ll be good? Would you take a slug outta that bottle?

Me: Well, no, of course not. But…

Body: But nothing. It’s simple science. Things don’t last forever. You know how you love going to the beach, and not for nothin’, but tanning like you do ain’t good for ya, but the sand you dig your tootsies into? That’s nothing but tiny little rocks that used to be part of much bigger rocks. Dude, this rock cycle has shaped the Earth for like four and a half billion years. Big rocks don’t last forever. And you, my friend, you ain’t the big rock you used to be. Or, frankly, think you used to be.

Me: Okay, but that’s not really making me feel any better.

Body: It’s not my job to make you feel better. That’s up to the heart, soul, mind, all that crapola I honestly know nothin’ about. Take that stuff up with our brain.

Me (sadly): I’m so bummed right now.

Body: Hey, look, we ain’t no kid anymore but we’re doing ok, ya know? We still move around, we travel, we play hockey, we hike, we do acting. Dude, we’re doing what we love, and that’s about all we can do, right? I mean, you’re not just gonna lay down and die because you hit a certain age. No, you just adapt, adjust, assimilate, you work with what you have and make the best of what you can make the best of. Worry about nothin’ – until you got something to worry about.

Me: Wow, you’re sounding a lot like a brain there, body.

Body: Ah, shaddup, you tell our brain that. Well, you think you hurt now!

Me: Yeah, okay, we’re not doing so bad. I mean it could be worse, I could be running away from saber-tooth tigers at my age.

Body: I’ve seen you run. That’s a race you wouldn’t have won 50 years ago, never mind now. But look at it this way: if we were a caveman at our age, we’d get a spot in the cave closer to whatever they used for the bathroom.

Me: Thanks.

Body: Don’t mention it. Hey, how’s your other knee feel lately?

Me: Good. Wait, why?

Body: Ah, don’t worry about nothin’ – until you got somethin’ to worry about.

Paul Kandarian is a lifelong area resident and, since 1982, has been a profession writer, columnist, and contributor in national magazines, websites, and other publications.