Skating Away
Earlier this week, a news story surfaced about a controversial new blood test that purports to measure how fast a person’s body is aging. It’s being touted as a moderately accurate predictor of how long someone will live by measuring the length of structures called telomeres on chromosomes. Here is a link to the original story:
http://www.foxnews.com/health/2011/05/16/test-tell-long-youll-live-hitting-shelves-year/
The article points out that the test would appeal to many people because “they are worried about dying,” and because it would allow them to manage their lifestyle and finances in the coming years. In other words, someone who knows he might only live ten years can opt to party like a rock star instead of saving up for a rainy day.
There are so many things wrong with this concept—where do I start?
Assuming that, since telomeres are part of one’s chromosomal makeup, they are unchanging, it makes sense that their physical state may indicate a long-term result. But the article fails to mention the impact of disease, lifestyle, and, of course, circumstance, on one’s lifespan. Does disease alter the structure or state of one’s chromosomes? Does the state of one’s chromosomal structure preclude the onset of disease? The leading cause of death amongst Americans, for example, is heart disease. Does the length of one’s telomeres indicate one’s ability to beat heart disease? Number five on the list of leading causes of death is accidents. Superhuman telomeres, of course, cannot save you from an oncoming truck.
One Fox commentator said it best: “This test has absolutely no practical purpose in modern medicine.” To which I would add, “nor does it have any practical purpose, period.” The test reportedly costs upwards of $700. What would possess someone to shell out that kind of money for a medical test that, for all practical purposes, tells them what they surely already know? They are going to die. Someday. If they were placed in a bubble for the rest of their lives, with no foreign contaminants, no rogue bullets or vehicles, and no natural disasters, they might live to be 85.
The test is essentially useless, and it might even be damaging. Researchers continue to study the relationship between one’s mental health and physical well being. What impact would the experience of taking this test have on those individuals? Would a person who took this test and found out that he might live to be 100 be any better off? Would it make him more mentally stable, happier, or motivated to live a healthy lifestyle? Conversely, would a person who took the test and discovered he might die in ten years, be so depressed that he might actually die sooner? Would he adopt such a reckless lifestyle that, upon driving his sports car 100 miles per hour on wet pavement, he’d accidentally careen off a cliff and die?
It’s only money, right? For those who have it, maybe it’s a pleasant way to spend the afternoon, taking a blood test to find out if they are invincible. Sort of like a fountain of youth app for their iPhone. Sigh. A person would be better off throwing their money down on the roulette table. At least, if they win, they’re going to be happy for a few days, months, or years—and science has shown, I think, that happy people live longer anyway.
I often remember a good friend of mine who was killed in a car accident coming home from Springfield, Missouri on I-44 back in 1999. Her vehicle crossed over into the oncoming lane and she was killed instantly. Debbie was the happiest, most cheerful and bubbly person I’d ever met. She was one of the healthiest people I knew—always eating right, exercising. She was a joy to all who knew her. In a perfect world, Debbie would still be here. She probably would have outlived all of us.
I was driving down I-44 the other day, contemplating these issues, and I couldn’t help but take note of the guard fences running down the center of the two highway lanes. I’m not sure when the practice of installing these structures began—we certainly didn’t have them when I was growing up, and they weren’t around when my friend met her untimely end—but they seem very practical. I have personally witnessed them serve the purpose for which they were intended. They are an efficient safety measure. They remind me, though, how we’ve become a society obsessed with safety, how everything we do has to be done within certain boundaries, regulations, and systems, from guard rails to red tape to how the weight of a child determines what kind of seat he can ride in.
Don’t misunderstand me. I am a huge safety advocate. In fact, I am probably one of the most safety-conscious people you will ever meet. I live my life by the book. Yet, I can’t help but wonder. Does this obsession with safety have the potential to suck the joy out of our lives? Is there something to be said for living in the moment, savoring every day as if it were your last?
Those of you who’ve read some of my earlier posts know that I like Charlie Chaplin movies, and I have often referenced them in my writing. I don’t know why, but there’s something very archetypal and timeless about many of the scenes in these movies. In one of my favorites, Modern Times, he is shown roller-skating blindfolded inside a department store that is being renovated. The dialogue reads, “Look, I can do it blindfolded.” As he skates in circles, he veers ever closer to a high drop off to the floors below. Yet, he continues on, oblivious to the danger, joyfully sailing around the floor.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lMyDYyg0FBA
This scene captures, for me, what it means to really live—ever closer to disaster, we just keep on skating. As the old Jethro Tull song goes, we are “skating away on the thin ice of a new day.” Every day is fragile, but it’s always new, every time. There’s no test that will alter the outcome of our lives. I still believe how we choose to live is the key to quality—and possibly, quantity—of life.
