Something I’ve just been reflecting on is how truly short life really could be, or perhaps should be, if it were not for the benefits of modern medicine and science.  And this reality hits me because I realize that, at 22 years old, if I was still alive, I would be completely useless and a burden to society if I lived in, say, medieval times.  

At 22 years of age I have had three surgeries.  Two on a torn meniscus in my left knee, which, assuming I tore it in whatever my field of work would have been (peasant farmer) and not in volleyball, would make movement very difficult and painful.  My third surgery was the removal of my wisdom teeth, which arguably would not have really affected the quality of my life back then.  But as a 3 year old, I severely broke my arm and needed surgery, but the local doctors were uncomfortable doing such an intense surgery on a child so young and small.  Thankfully with their expert care, my arm is only very slightly bowed (really only noticeable to me).  But a broken arm in the past, especially broken so severely so early in life, would likely have meant a useless and painful limb for life, or perhaps even death.  Even assuming none of these external influences disabled me, my eyesight is horrendous.  Like, seriously horrendous. Without glasses or contacts my hand must be, very literally, 2 to 3 inches from the end of my nose before it is in perfect focus.  This would have left me completely useless! I could not move around the town or maybe even my own home without guidance, I could not perform any work, or recognize someone’s face from across a room.  Yet here I sit, in the 21^st century, so fully healthy.  I am strong and lean, tall and highly capable of anything.  All my limbs work and my eyes are aided enough to make these long hours staring at computer screens perfectly possible.  I’m an avid reader and dancer.  And I feel like I have so much to offer the world, like I matter, and I will and am being given the opportunities to do things that matter.  Which makes me wonder, what did all of those people of the past have to offer that they were never able to give, because they were struck down or made lame so early in life?  Did they not matter as much as I do?  Surely they just mattered in different ways. They were part of the process that lead to my generation being so lucky and provided for, and that is not small matter, for one thing.  And I suppose I am part of that process, too; we are not the end all to be all.  Perhaps future generations will feel sorry for mine because of how much we suffered from things like colds, HIV/AIDS, and Alzheimer's.

In any case, I am very grateful to be 22 and alive and productive, and still be considered at the beginning of my life.