You know what they always say, in life, there is nothing certain apart from death and taxes.
Well I shan't bitch about taxes today because we just got back from the hospital where we visited a close friend's dad who is fast losing his battle with cancer. I lost my own dad to cancer in 2004. Still, seeing uncle lying there, wheezing away in his oxygen mask with a tangle of tubes all over, brought back some memories that had only recently been pushed to a corner recess in my mind. The scenes were all too familiar.
I hate hospitals. I make all sorts of excuses not to set foot in them. So when I received an sms from a mutual friend, asking me if i wanted to get my sorry arse over there tonight, I was half-hoping the case I was handling at work would drag till 8 and I would have an excuse to say 'maybe next-time'. But I finished at 6. And so I rushed home for a hot shower and quick dinner before proceeding down to the dreaded place.
A brush with (impending) death, so to speak, like this one, always sobers you up. Again you are reminded of the frailty of life, the importance of good health and the fact that Big Daddy up there can choose to take away your pathetic existence as and when He pleases.
Can we pay a Good Health Tax to God? I asked the Missus as we were driving home. Just so that He can keep the malignant tumours and the failing organs at bay. How much? She asked. I didn't think she would take me seriously...