Aging is unavoidable. We all age. And because we’re essentially living machines, various things can go wrong. Joints seize up, various parts start breaking down or leaking and we become reliant on an amazing array of curatives and devices to keep ourselves going. Up until now, I always thought there was nothing I could do about it. But I’ve had an idea that might just sweeten the deal.
First, let me explain. Its all to do with genetics. For instance, I have a reasonable head of hair while my younger brothers have all gone bald. I also thought I was favoured when it came to something else. You see, my father has problem knees. In fact, he’s had both his knees replaced, as have two of my brothers. The third is having an operation very soon. I thought my sister and I had slipped by this particular hereditary gift. I was wrong.
After spending the night rocking out at a gig (see my previous blog) I got home to find my right knee swollen and sore, like I’d fallen heavily on it. Now while I had a few beers, I didn’t get so drunk I don’t remember falling over and hurting myself. I had even resisted the temptation to jump around like a loon at the gig. One might even say I even conducted myself with a modicum of dignity. So why is my bloody knee so sore?
It is sore because of the DNA I’m carrying. It is sore because my Dad passed me his dodgy knee genes. If I had kids, there is every likelihood I would pass this gene on to them as well. So, according to this logic, my father is to blame for my troubling joints.
The only recourse I have as far as this goes, aside from a medical option, is a legal one. So I’m going to sue my Dad. I’m bound to win. Hell, he’s got the scars to prove he has dodgy knees. Any jury worth its salt will favour me.
Dad, if you’re reading this, expect a knock on the door any second now.