I’ve been alive for a long time. One of the few things I seem to be doing right is living. I’ve died once, technically, when my heart stopped for 60 seconds after I drank too many Red Bulls. Apart from that blip, I like to think I’m a professional alive person.
I’ve lived in my body for almost all of that time. I like to think I know it pretty well. Its moods, its features, its strengths and weaknesses. And yet the other day I noticed for the first time that I have a pea sized dent in my skull.
Apparently it’s not new. I asked my mum about it and she said it’s from when I was two and I whacked my head on corner of the boot of the car. I had no recollection of this incident, nor noticing it before.
I kinda feel that’s like living in a house for 20 years and never noticing you have room filled with asbestos. Scary, and potentially a massive health concern.