On the One Hand...

Why Choking to Death on a Piece of Chicken Beats Dying of Stage Four Cancer

Choking is a serious matter, not to be taken lightly. It happened to me as a sixth grader. I was alarmed but didn't panic during the three to five seconds that the long strand of beef was stuck in my throat and blocked my breath. Fortunately, my diaphragm(?) knew what to do and the meat came up. I've been cutting food into bite-sized pieces and chewing more thoroughly before swallowing ever since. Nevertheless, for a healthy adult, choking to death on a piece of chicken beats dying of stage four cancer because:

You'll look great at your last viewing.

It's quick with no lonnnngggggg drawn out suffering.

Suits the personality of those who like to dive into a cold swimming pool or rip off a Band Aide to get it over with.

Satisfaction of knowing you enjoyed your meals to the next-to-the-last bite.

Some one else will have to do the dishes.

And vacuum the floor.

And plunge the slow drain.

And deal with your car's stupid "Service Engine Soon" warning light that won't switch off even after you changed the engine air filter and gas cap.

And fix the bed.

And do the laundry.

And figure out what's for dinner.

Survivors score on life insurance proceeds. Pride in knowing it was a worthwhile investment for other than just "peace of mind," especially if policy was just about to expire or was just ratified.

Super-cheap way to go. No outrageous medical bills.

No more insufferable coworkers!

No more money worries!

No need to listen to stupid politics.

Or shrill media.

Or inconsiderate neighbors.

Or well-meaning alt-med types tell you how to "beat this thing."

No doubts about what killed you. With cancer, there's always a doubt. (Chemical additives? Second hand smoke? Toxic dry wall? Water impurities? Diet? The sketchy hotel you stayed at a decade ago? Alien space dust?)

Has great sudden shock and surprise value! (Oh my God, how awful! On what? Terri Chicken stir fry? I eat that all time. Was he in a rush? You don't know? I'm sooo sorry...)

No time for long, drawn out regrets.

Or to act on such regrets, which an be super uncomfortable and painful.

Or to share sloppy goodbyes.

Or to contemplate the lousy, depressing state of the world.

Spared having to watch endless TV 'cause there's nothing better to do.

And to search for the meaning of life.

And to hold your hospital gown close to prevent wardrobe malfunctions.

And to select from a menu of lousy hospital food options.

And to eat those options selected.

And to see those same options day after day after day.

Mainly, can consider yourself lucky that you didn't die from something worse such as stage four cancer because—Duh!—terminal cancer sucks! Need specifics? Try: chemo, radiology therapy, hair loss, disfiguring surgery, damned if you do and damned if you don't treatment options, nausea, loss of appetite, weight loss, pain, fatigue, tubes, needles, wires, feeling down all the time, violent mood swings, exhaustion, grief, false hopes, irritability, loss of strength and mobility, irrational ecstasy, fear, dread, despair, and guilt.

For those not into touchy-feelies, spared having to deal with all the visitors wanting to cheer you up and let you know you're not in this along—as if cancer can be shared.

Bonus: Loved ones spared having to be your care givers!