I survived; I don’t need to beckon death
What you need to know:
- Doctors were sick and tired of us because we reported to them on a weekly basis with the same disease—we were peeing blood.
In those days, when most voluntary diseases (I won’t mention them here) used antibiotics, days when the big disease with a little name was unheard of; we were young and full of ourselves.
We men who slept with anything in a skirt (or a dress) threw all cares to the four winds and just lived for that moment.
Doctors were sick and tired of us because we reported to them on a weekly basis with the same disease—we were peeing blood.
A doctor would reprimand you and tell you that he does not ever want to see you in his clinic, and yet you’d find yourself there.
Enter the small disease with a little name and things went south! Suddenly, the world was gripped by serious bouts of fear.
Those who became infected, became pariahs in their societies and condoms stopped being vestigial tools for preventing pregnancy, becoming must-haves. We still went on with our hedonism.
We are now old and life has taken us thus far, even after some of buddies whom we shared women with fell by the wayside, having lost to the big disease with a little name.
Looking back, we have every reason to be grateful to God, fate or lady luck for being alive. We survived it by the skin of our teeth. It is not because we were clean. Nay!
No man aged over fifty can remember the number or names of women he had cosy moments with. As I said earlier, we shared women with our buddies, now dead.
Why they died and I survived, I cannot tell. I know that I should have kicked the bucket long ago but life has preserved me to date.
Every time an opportunity avails itself, I have myself tested. Not that I have sunk to the low level of being hedonistic, but because the only way to it is the right way to go in life.
Have clean hands
To date, there is no cure for the big disease with a little name but men and women who picked it somewhere are living for years using medicines.
Some stubborn men who survived escaped the wrath of the disease but do not care anymore. They have been lucky in the past but how long do they think they can outsmart death? I choose to live without proving death.
