I don't want to sound alarmist, but it's really more conspicuous if I don't mention it. "It," as awful as it is to contemplate, is suicide. A recent study reminded me of how obvious it is that MS & depression go together. I have such a reaction to facile "studies" that concern such tautologies. We're dealing, after all, with a degeneraive neurological ailment.
Luckily, I guess, I have no cognitive issues. Ironically, I have actually grown both more magnanimous & perspispicacious, as my malfunctioning immune system & ravaged spinal cord have rendered my motor skills less & less viable. Reading MS literature (which I rarely do, because it can make one intolerable to be around, & can become a self-fulfilling prophecy, as wallowing leads to hypochondria), I became acutely aware of the prevalence of depression, & subsequently suicide, among MS patients.
I aim to tell you not to worry about this possibility, because I would never do that. If, for some awful reason, I die prematurely, I urge you to assume foul play. Don't believe a facile coroner's report that reaches the conclusion of suicide, because it would never happen.
I don't believe in God, so I don't hold onto a fantastical notion that "heaven" will be waiting for me after I die. It's why jihadists/suicide bombers seem so idiotic to me. (Well, one of the reasons...) I don't feel free to leave a trail of carnage behind somewhere, although many people might be troubled by how fickle I view their lives. Since I don't think that a deity would commend me for getting rid of infidels, I see absolutely no point in troubling myself with getting rid of anybody. If I ever feel a murderous inclination, I'll know that I need to take a nap. Warren Zevon may have written a song called "I'll Sleep When I'm Dead," & it may be a popular colloquialism, but, as someone else probably has said, I'm not taking any chances. I'd like to get in all the zzzs I can before I shuffle off this mortal coil.
Some have romantized the notion of suicide. Hunter S. Thompson, always laudatory of Ernest Hemingway, shot himself in the head over six years ago. In much the same way, many other talented people have taken their own lives. Kurt Cobain (to name someone mildly contemporary), Hart Crane, & Virginia Woolf (2 of my favorite writers) have committed suicide, just to name a few off of the top of my head. I, however, think it's an obscenely dumb thing to do.
One of the reasons I loathe guns of any kind is that even a simple accident could end in my demise. (I thought about using the less selfish "your" there, but I realized that I'm simply not concerned with the death of someone else in this instance. Hence, "I.") &, with my clumsy motor skills, I'd probably unintentionally shoot myself. Not in somewhere that I could claim came from a hunting accident, mind you–-more like a Plaxico Burress-esque bout of stupidity, like in my leg or foot.
& everything else is just gross. I mean, slitting your wists--gross & messy. Pills--boring.
See? I've already run out of steam. & I got bored. Whats's on the telly? Tuesday TV sucks...
R
