WHY I WOULDN’T TRAVEL THROUGH TIME
[or how I stopped worrying and learned to love the present]
The short answer is because I have cancer. Before you jump to conclusions – I found it early (in my junk), had it cut out and the doctor says he expects me to be cured, without having to lose my hair, but that’s besides the point.
Going back in time is something that I expect every one would want to do for one reason or another. You could be the Beatles before the Beatles, assassinate Hitler or go work out with Arnie at Golds Gym. I’ve always wanted to go back in time so I could create Spiderman and buy stocks in Microsoft.
But ever since my diagnosis I am so glad that I exist now because if I were my age in the 1930s I would be:
So for me, time travel is no longer Churchill or Napoleon, Hitler or Caesar, its chemo or no chemo?
Louis C.K said, “A black guy in a time machine is like, ‘hey anything before 1980, no thank you, I don’t wanna go.” It’s a humorous observation that now has a lot of relevance to my situation and to the countless number of other cancer patients. While I’m at it, anyone who’s ever suffered a heart attack, stoke, leukemia, diabetes or even glandular fever wouldn’t want to go back in time.
My great grandfather died from cancer in his hacky sack when he was only 38. It was 1912, x-rays weren’t invented then, and his family wasn’t told what was wrong with him. I assume great great granny knew but the rest of the family (grandpa and all the little Ferriers) were always told that he was hit in the leg with a cricket ball which caused a blood clot. My family only found out the truth a short time ago. I guess it was a point of shame? Or just something people never talked about back then. Did they even know what cancer was? Fuck the past.
If anything I want to go forward in time, but then there would be the dreaded possibility of meeting myself and making the universe explode.
P.s. FUCK CANCER.