OK, OK, It’s Wonderful!
Not in this clinic, but somewhere
Every month I go to a clinic and get blood drawn, and they ask me a series of questions on everything from my digestion to my mood.
They ask not just if I’m suicidal but also whether I’ve bought equipment or made plans to end my life.
Then they switch gears, and the last question is always the same: “Do you think it’s wonderful to be alive?” That’s an odd question to be confronted with once a month, amid the needles and blood pressure cuffs, and for a long time, I thought it was stupid.
But now I’m glad they ask. Because thinking about why it’s wonderful to be alive, just contemplating how extraordinarily lucky I am to be here, to have this life for whatever time I have left, is a good way to spend some time, however brief.
So I always take a few minutes now before I answer it. The nurses probably think I’m trying to decide. But I’m not. For just a moment, once a month, I’m savoring it. Finally, I answer, “Yes, it’s wonderful to be alive.”
