this conversation comes up often
Any time that I'm at a function that requires small talk, such as the keg party I attended on Friday night, I'm constantly asked what kind of doctor I want to be. I tell my inquisitors that I want to do infectious disease. They typically respond with, "aren't you scared that you might get ebola, smallpox, SARS, sleeping sickness, or some other nastiness and die from it?" or "Aren't you scared that while you're in Africa chasing these diseases, you might get caught up in some civil war and be killed?"
And then I'm left saying this following: I have options in how I live my life, and options for how I die.
I could chose to live like most of my inquisitors in the suburban US for all my life, eating greasy McDonalds, not exercising, and growing fat and atherosclerotic. I could then die in my 60s, as a diabetic stroke and heart attack victim. But I don't want to, so I don't eat McDonalds and I exercise. That's not how I want to die.
I could die one day after being hit by a drunk driver. I can't really do much to control it, and I'd be pissed as hell if it happened. That's not how I want to die.
I'd much rather die doing what I like to do. I like to chase diseases in exotic places, having adventures and seeing new things. If I'm in an environment where I'm likely to be exposed to a disease, there are protective measures I can take to keep from getting the disease. I'd wear the yellow suit that the movie Outbreak made famous. I'd take my malaria pills. I'd wear gloves. And if, despite all my best efforts, I still manage to contract the disease and die, I'd be okay with it. I'd die in the middle of the life that I have always dreamed of.
And if civil war broke out, and I got caught in the middle of it, I'd do my best to get myself out of the situation. I don't really relish the thought of being hacked to death by machete, accidentally stepping on a land mine, or being targeted by someone with an AK-47. I'd rather clear town until the whole thing boils over. And if I didn't make it, at least I died doing something worthwhile, instead of perpetuating society in a cubicle somewhere.
In the long and short of it all, as long as I am doing what I want to do, I don't care if I die. I have no current dependents. No one really needs me to show up in their life everyday, so what I do is my business. One day, if a husband and kids popped into the picture, I'm sure my priorities will change. However, none of those cards are on the table. They may not even be in the deck. If someone were to call me up today and say, "hey, there's a malaria outbreak in Afghanistan, we need you to take care of it," the only thing that would hold me back right now is if it would interfere with medical school. After medical school...the hell with it all. I'm going.
And then I'm left saying this following: I have options in how I live my life, and options for how I die.
I could chose to live like most of my inquisitors in the suburban US for all my life, eating greasy McDonalds, not exercising, and growing fat and atherosclerotic. I could then die in my 60s, as a diabetic stroke and heart attack victim. But I don't want to, so I don't eat McDonalds and I exercise. That's not how I want to die.
I could die one day after being hit by a drunk driver. I can't really do much to control it, and I'd be pissed as hell if it happened. That's not how I want to die.
I'd much rather die doing what I like to do. I like to chase diseases in exotic places, having adventures and seeing new things. If I'm in an environment where I'm likely to be exposed to a disease, there are protective measures I can take to keep from getting the disease. I'd wear the yellow suit that the movie Outbreak made famous. I'd take my malaria pills. I'd wear gloves. And if, despite all my best efforts, I still manage to contract the disease and die, I'd be okay with it. I'd die in the middle of the life that I have always dreamed of.
And if civil war broke out, and I got caught in the middle of it, I'd do my best to get myself out of the situation. I don't really relish the thought of being hacked to death by machete, accidentally stepping on a land mine, or being targeted by someone with an AK-47. I'd rather clear town until the whole thing boils over. And if I didn't make it, at least I died doing something worthwhile, instead of perpetuating society in a cubicle somewhere.
In the long and short of it all, as long as I am doing what I want to do, I don't care if I die. I have no current dependents. No one really needs me to show up in their life everyday, so what I do is my business. One day, if a husband and kids popped into the picture, I'm sure my priorities will change. However, none of those cards are on the table. They may not even be in the deck. If someone were to call me up today and say, "hey, there's a malaria outbreak in Afghanistan, we need you to take care of it," the only thing that would hold me back right now is if it would interfere with medical school. After medical school...the hell with it all. I'm going.