Living with Me: It's a Laugh a Minute

A few weeks ago, I spent a Saturday morning snuggling with the cats in bed, sipping coffee and reading New Scientist magazine. As you do. I was reading the "cheating death" issue, a fun-loving exploration of the current science around dying and resuscitation. When Kathy interrupted me to ask about our appointments that day, I had to take the opportunity to share what I was reading.

"Did you know that shortly after blood flow stops, a kind of 'death signal' ripples through the body, causing cells to self destruct?" I told her eagerly. "Apparently this is the big obstacle to resuscitation."

"Actually, I did know about that because it happens with injury, too. Remember that football player I told you about, Kevin Everett? They used hypothermia on him to stop his spinal cord from self-destructing."

"Oh, right," I said, continuing to read with fascination.

After a pause, though, I scrunched up my eyes and turned my face away from the open magazine. "Ew. Ew. EW!"

"What?"

"Well, I just read how they are studying chemotherapy to see what they can learn from that to teach them about resuscitation. Because, you know, chemo promotes cell death, too. I knew that, about how it stops rapid cell division, but...I think I feel a bit sick right now."

"Why?"

"Because I just realized that I SENT THE DEATH SIGNAL THROUGH MY BODY. That is so gross."

Kathy was quiet for a moment, then said, "I think just maybe you should stop reading that. Like, now."

I agreed. I sat down the magazine and went to make another cup of coffee. But a few minutes later, when she wasn't looking, I picked it right back up and turned to the next article: How Does it Feel to Die?

In no time, I was completely absorbed reading detailed descriptions of what it feels like to die in ten different ways, from drowning to decapitation to explosive decompression. Why? All I can think is that I am one sick puppy. One very curious but sick puppy.

Much to Kathy's relief (well, if she had known what I was doing at the time) I did not offer her a free death education by reading passages aloud. That took a bit of discipline because my recurring drowning dream? I discovered that it is completely accurate. Me and my subconscious: we are so smart.

Fascinating as the magazine was, eventually I had to put it down and get ready for the day. Several hours later, thoughts of electrocution and lethal injection were far behind me as we sat, over lunch, sketching out our plans for the week. (When you live with me, there is a lot of planning. A LOT.) Kathy was on vacation that week and so, being the thrill seekers that we are, we'd concocted a brilliant plan for taking advantage of her time: we were going to systemize how we manage things in the house and get things in order. (Please do not be jealous of our madcap ways. We cannot help it.)

First up was a plan to gather together all the disparate information that might be needed in case of emergency. While we brainstormed what to include (such as names and numbers for each other's contacts, copies of important documents, account access information, and so on) it became clear that we each had different ideas of why we might need the information.

Insurance policy? Kathy was thinking that if we needed to evacuate, we would be comforted to have that with us until we were cleared to return to our safe and cozy home. I, on the other hand, was thinking it would be a handy reference as I stand in the burnt out ruins of our home, surveying the black and gray, post-apocalyptic landscape around me.

Account access information? Kathy imagined that if she left on a business trip and forgot to pay a bill, she could call home to me and I'd have everything needed to take care of it for her. Whereas I was thinking this information would come in handy if I get a severe head injury and forget who I am. That way she can easily cancel my Netflix and web hosting accounts while I watch food-eating competitions on TV in my Spiderman jim-jams.

When we got to the reasons that we might need serial numbers for all the electronics, Kathy shot me a look of horror. Burnt out ruins, head injuries, mass robbery...exactly what was I implying that we were in for? Perhaps it wouldn't be so disturbing if I hadn't developed a reputation for premonitions in the past.

Seeing her expression, I shook myself out of my Dark Spectre persona and pressed her hand reassuringly. I told her that as far as I was concerned we were in absolutely no danger at all, because simply by thinking up these horrible images, I was assured that none of it would happen to us.

How can I be so sure I won't end up standing in the ruins of our home, just as I visualized? Easy. The Universe simply does not work that way, because otherwise, you might be prepared. And we can't have that.

So, while Kathy might see the day as featuring an unnecessary tour into darkness, from my perspective, I came out ahead. Our house is not going to burn down! I'm not going to get a head injury! And, among other things, I now know a full ten ways in which I am not going to die.

Go me! But...maybe next time, I'll keep my victory to myself. Just to show I care.

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