Wrongful Diagnosis

In the news the other day was an item about a man in UK named John Brandrick, 62, who was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer two years ago and told that he would probably die within a year. He decided to live out the rest of his short life in style. He sold most of his stuff and used the money to travel, staying in luxury hotels and generally living well.

When he failed to succumb on schedule, he was forced to confront the moment that all senior citizens dread, the real possibility that we will outlive our resources. Mr. Brandrick was simultaneously annoyed, perplexed, frustrated and delighted to be around to tell about it. It turns out, upon re-examination that he does not have the fatal illness, rather pancreatitis, a painful but non-fatal condition.

Now he is suing his doctors and the hospital for wrongful diagnosis because he spent all his money, has no home and (quixotically) no clothes. Most of us probably admire this guy for resolving to face-up to Death and spitting the grim reaper in the eye, going out in a blaze of glory. At the same time we see him as a pitiful loser who will not take responsibility for his own impulsive actions.


This story embodies the deeply ingrained philosophical contradictions of our times – especially for those of us on the back nine*.

Self-help authors encourage us to “Live as though you might die tomorrow; learn as though you will live forever.” They say we should take risks with our pleasures, but we must be patient to let wisdom arrive in the fullness of time.

It is said that the sign of intelligence is the ability to hold two contradictory thoughts in the mind at the same time. Like my mother often advised, “Have fun but be careful.” I think that studies** may eventually show that the constant presence of these opposing ideas in the cerebral cortex may cause us to be operationally bi-polar.

So, maybe we sometimes do crazy things on impulse and the regret them later on. Well, you’ll excuse me, I am going downtown to get a fire-breathing dragon tattooed across my back.


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*Pardon the golfing metaphor, but it was either this or “…treading down the dark road to dusty death…” I think you’ll agree that the back nine flows better.

**As far as I know there is no formal study examining the psychological effects of ambiguous warnings, yet. But someone should be looking into it.