Part 27 of 31
The Found Another Body
If my blog ever gets a Nobel Prize — and it’s been nominated more times than I can count — it’ll very likely come from today's post. In which I seriously advise my readers to get regular checkups. I'm very afraid for them. I believe a liver checkup is directly warranted, if not on a daily basis at least once in a while. You'll be healthier for this reason alone, because once you open the door to necessary checkups, the sky’s the limit. There’s really nothing on your body — very few exclusions, maybe calluses are no problem unless cancerous — that can't be actively monitored by you and professional caregivers.
As for me, I get periodic checkups with my doctor. I pull down my pants and cough, that’s one of the ones I remember. Someone checks my blood pressure, my pulse, essentially all things pertaining to blood. And someone’s there to tap my knee to make sure my legs still bend. So far, so good! Every time they tap me, I react, nearly kicking the crap out of them. It’s painless for me. And something I recommend.
From today’s post, to reiterate, the essential point of it is to have regular liver checkups. That I didn’t know before recent study. When I heard of it I adopted it as one of my causes, right up there with the dangers of exposing yourself in public. But, really, it never occurred to me that looking into someone’s eyes could give you an insight into their liver! Which is no laughing matter, and just to be on the safe side I’m not even smiling. Just sitting here like someone with a distinct tendency toward an incipient turning-to-stone condition. Not cracking a smile.
Anyway, I was reading the comics one day, thinking, “This'll be good for a laugh,” when I was suddenly brought up short. It took my breath away. “Yes, you should always be looking for things wrong with people when you meet them.” Which is true, I believe. Even bad breath has medical terminology pertaining to it. It could be something in your mouth, your throat, or on down, your stomach, physically rotting away as we speak. Basically, brush your teeth or you could be dead this time tomorrow. (If you are dead this time tomorrow, that’s just an expression; don’t blame me; you should've brushed well before now.)
“Tell me what you see in my eyes … darling!” So far, so good. Maybe this was a first date. It’s been a while since I’ve had a first date, and I've never had a second date. He apparently didn’t know she was a doctor when she said she saw his incipient liver condition. He’s startled to hear the news. Then he fails to get it taken care of. Then, I hate to give his full fate. Even an anonymous comic strip character we’ve never heard of deserves his privacy, particular concerning his fate, and the awful death he ended up dying the next day. It was so soon they didn't have time for another date. He died a horny mess with a bad liver to boot.
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