Grim

Oct. 3, 2017

In “The Right Stuff,” Tom Wolfe said that when yet another test pilot would inevitably auger into the earth in an extremely lethal program, all the other pilots would discuss it to reason out why it happened – and to find the logic that proved it wouldn’t happen to THEM, too.

“He lost his cool. He didn’t try A or B or C. He didn’t have the right stuff.”

I think I’m guilty of the same whistling past the graveyard. I see what happens to other people and I figure out what I can do to avoid the same. I’ll work on my health so THAT won’t happen to ME. (You can swap in any number of scenarios for “that;” it’s not ALL my husband ignoring his own health. We’re all getting older and body parts are wont to break down over time.)

And then people who did nothing wrong – people who just wanted to gather together to hear some country music – are slaughtered. I confess, I suffer from defeatism. Why fuss over pelvic alignment when a bullet can shatter a body no matter how fit or toned or flexible it is?

Then Tom Petty died (in a very similar fashion to my husband six months ago, including the turning off of life support and then waiting, grimly, for a tenacious spirit to get the message to let go), and it seems like some basic goodness has spiraled out of life like water through the bathtub drain.

I’m going to Body Dynamics today. I have Barbara at 11 and Chad’s stretch class at noon. I’m hoping the endogenous morphine (ie, “endorphins”) that exercise brings will help. I know it couldn’t hurt.

But I’m a little defeated today.