Helpful Health Tip

When I Die, I’m Hoping That It’s From Covid-19

Photo by Ben Hershey on Unsplash

If you think I’m being weird, well, it’s been said.

If you’re thinking that I’m giving dangerous advice, I laugh.

You civilized people are so out of touch with nature and how things work that you’ve fixated on dangers, unaware and unknowing that you’re wasting the one life you ever get to have. That’s the danger you’re in, that you’re going to die anyway, someday, but up till then you’ll have been hollowed out by living in a self-inflicted state of terror.

As for me, I spend some time in nature almost every day. And as I walk away from civilization, I stop and chat and trade plant cuttings or stories with old people I meet along the way. I’ve done this for 60 years. You want wisdom, talk to ancient people! My friend Katherine moved to California by stagecoach in the years after the gold rush. My New York in-law showed me her Dachau tattoo. The box-boy in Florida, at least in his 90s, had been in a coma for 9 months, during the Korean War. When he woke up, he did physical therapy and then the Pentagon sent him, with a battalion, to Inchon. (Lucky for him he got transferred en route, and so instead, he served out the war babysitting the daughters [mostly] of five-star generals in Berlin.)

I’ve had these vicarious experiences . . . well, actually, they’re both vicarious and real. I’ve also had Covid-19, twice. The first time I stopped breathing twice. I was so sick I didn’t even care that I might die. But that wild-animal part of my brain, both times, snarled and got angry and snapped at me, “DON’T STOP BREATHING.” I’m telling the truth here.

The second time I caught covid was recent. It felt *exactly* the same. But a week later I was walking kilometers every morning and I felt fine. That was a surprise gift. This is a weird bug.

Lucky for us that Covid-19 is only one bug in a long line of bugs that we’ve lived with for millions of years. For so long that our own DNA carries huge strings of coronavirus and other sequences. And when you catch a bug, the inner bugs in your DNA can get activated, and you start sounding like a shaken-up beehive on your inside. And you die or you don’t. Mostly don’t . . . this time.

That’s why I say, look, just throw up your hands and let nature take its course. You don’t want doctors anyway — you’re sick and just want to be alone. Who needs bedpans and blinking lights and a goddam IV?

And what can I say? I recommend that you stop living in self-inflicted terror? You see, or maybe you don’t — that you’ve likely been brainwashed by the rich and powerful into that state. I won’t get into that mess, but you might think about it. There’s no need for terror.

Dedicated to my friends in Mexico City, who live between two live volcanoes and can’t always breathe well. They scoff at Americanos who worry about getting sick from the lettuce in the street tacos. “What, you are afraid of a lettuce leaf? Well, life is dangerous.”




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