Letter to my body
Owen Clark
Dear Body,
I think congratulations to you are in order, as you have survived with me for almost 90 years.
I have no memory of when we first met, but I know some details from my parents. We shared some rough times. The wind pains were very difficult. You were attacked by germs and viruses, including measles, mumps, chickenpox, flu, colds, and stomach complaints. Then there were all the cuts, bruises, and falls, along with all the physical demands that have been placed on you. You were asked to learn to walk, run, play all sorts of games and sports, often just for the pleasure of others, including me.
Your muscles and joints were stressed almost to the point of destruction, particularly in hard physical work like shearing and lifting wheat bags; yet, you managed to heal and often became stronger. I have complained at times that you have been sore, painful, and utterly exhausted, as though I expected you to be like a machine that should go on forever. Still, you are here with little complaint.
A few times, outside help was needed from doctors, but compared to the healthy times, it was very little. Tonsils and appendix were removed; some wounds caused by an axe were stitched: the most serious repair being to the plumbing of your heart. Under anesthetic, we parted from each other for a while, and it was pretty awful getting back together, and allowing things to return to normal, but we made it, with thankfulness.
Another time, a very virulent Prostate cancer attacked you, and fortunately, it was removed before it could do you damage. Another victory we made together.
You have always had your needs and demands, of course, and if you aren’t well fed, washed, clothed, exercised and cared for in the proper way, you certainly let me know. Still, compared to the services you provide me, I think it is a fair exchange.
You need love and care, and to be able to relate to and interact with others like yourself. In fact, without that loving interaction, you can literally die.
Your sight, hearing, feeling and activity provide me with much pleasure. However, with the wear and tear of the years, we must both come to terms with deterioration and limitations. I hope that with exercise, good food, and positive and active living, we can share interesting years ahead.
I think you’ve inherited a good number of genes from the family gene pool. Your health has been good overall, and I expect you to live many years yet. You could have had better looks: the head is a bit small, nose and ears too large, but they could have been a lot worse; however, they all work well, and have done so for many years, so that’s good.
I hope you don’t mind me bringing up the future. If things go as I believe, one day we will separate. Despite all the time we have spent together, our destinies are different. For all your grandeur and beauty and service, you are made of dust or clay and so will remain here with your kindred dust.
I must go my way wherever that may be. You were made for me to live in, in this world. When we separate, there is a thought that I will get a new body designed to live in another dimension. It’s sad that you will be superseded, but that may be the way it is. I hope that with a new body, I will have as good a service, or even a better service, than what I have had with you.
I always think it’s better to be prepared for our separation. When it happens, it will be difficult for both of us. We don’t want to change what we have always known, but it will happen. There is terror in this. We have served each other well. I would like to say goodbye in a dignified manner, with great gratitude to you, my body, good and faithful friend, who has shared many years, mostly with wonderful times together.
When I have gone, I think you still have usefulness in this world by helping to train student doctors to take a good look at you in such a way that they learn what a body like yours is like, so they will become good doctors. So, you go to Melbourne University, and my wish is that you will not just educate doctors, but through them, the health of many other bodies.
I think that’s a better ending for you than the other useless body endings. I’m sure you would agree.
So, I guess that means we eventually have only good memories, and with them, a goodbye forever.
Wishing us all the best for the time we have left.
Owen
20 July 2025
Featured image by Claudio Henrique Claudio from Pixabay