Severe case of midlife crisis

I had a big scare not that long ago. One night, just as I was getting ready for bed, I noticed a little blood stain on my T-shirt. I looked to see where it had come from and discovered a new mole - large, irregular, and bleeding.

I have googled images of skin cancer in the past. Yes, I am that kind of person. When I saw something like that on my skin, it freaked me out. Intensely. It felt like vertigo. I had to grab the door frame and hold on to it for a minute. I did not sleep well that night.

My GP told me that after forty, all sorts of strange things can appear on the skin. Not all of them are malignant. “No need to panic prematurely,” she said." We will send you to a specialist. Don’t assume it’s cancer until they tell you it is."

That’s easier said than done. I have a vivid imagination. During those few days of waiting, I repeatedly imagined, in detail, that instead of my small and innocent worries, I could soon have real ones. Hospitals. Nausea from chemo. Thoughts of dying.

My cousin died of cancer when she was only 21. It’s been over 30 years now. I don’t think about her much anymore (I feel terrible admitting that). But suddenly, my memories of her have resurfaced so intensely - how beautiful and sweet she was and how much she didn’t deserve to end up like that.

One memory in particular haunted me. I was visiting her one day and noticed several large jars of golden-colored liquid with chunks of something disgusting floating inside. I asked what the hell it was, and she explained it was kombucha, something super-healthy. I was just a kid then. I knew she was ill, but they didn’t tell me how seriously. It didn’t occur to me that this could be the last time I’d see her. But it was. The last conversation we ever had was about kombucha.

Yep, some pretty dark thoughts were swirling in my head. The good thing about it was that my usual worries lost importance. I had a few waves of intense anxiety. I also had several surprisingly good moments - those were when I managed to conjure up a vivid fantasy of a doctor telling me “No, you don’t have cancer.” That would be awesome. Any life without cancer is awesome. Having an unfulfilling job and no money did not matter anymore.

And I was lucky. It was benign. What a relief! I was enjoying the pure joy of life… for four days. On the fifth day, a colleague pissed me off.

This guy has a method. He takes what you say and deftly twists your words into an absurdly stupid claim. He then pretends that you are saying that stupidity and refutes it (or so he thinks). He is doing that with the patient expression of a sage talking to an idiot. I am 99% sure that even His Holiness the Dalai Lama would consider slapping that expression out of his face.

But this time, after a few minutes of anger, I realized - I don’t have cancer. Some people do have cancer, and they would surely give anything to exchange the horror for a little argument with a moron. For them, arguing with him would be like a shot of Absinthe, which makes you shake with disgust at first, but after a minute, you feel alive.

The truth is, though, that I was lucky this time, but one day, I will die. Usually, I live immersed in my small worries - don’t forget the tax forms! - and do not think about how precious each day is. How soon it can all end. But I can’t stop thinking about it now. And I’m afraid I am not making the best use of the days I have left.

I saw a commercial years ago that somehow stuck in my head - a man resting on a bench notices that Death with a scythe is staring at him. Everything stops. There is that moment when his whole life flashes before his eyes. And it was an interesting life. Travels to exotic places, fun with friends, surfing, sunsets with beautiful women… And the ad says: “When your life flashes before your eyes, make sure there is plenty to watch.”

It’s probably not the best idea to draw life wisdom from a TV commercial, but there’s some truth in it. My life isn’t that bad. I shouldn’t complain… but damn, I’ve slipped into utter monotony over the last few years! I brush my teeth, go to work, leave work, make dinner, eat it while watching “funny” videos on YouTube, brush my teeth, and sleep. Every now and then, a brief escape on vacation.

Way back when I was still in college, I spent a summer working in the United States. It wasn’t easy. But it was intense. I had an adventure. I have so many memories from that summer. After more than twenty years, those memories are still vivid and heartwarming.

Not much from the past few years has stuck in my memory. And now, all of a sudden, I have a terrible longing to experience something like those times in the US again. To have something worth watching when the time comes.