A Pound of Prevention is Worth an Ounce of Cure

You may not realize this from my cavalier attitude but I'm a stickler for following rules. Give me an order, and I'm on it like flies on my ex-wife. I take the old saw seriously that "a pound of prevention is worth an ounce of cure."

One can never be too safe. The problem is the safety end zone keeps getting moved. Time was that not playing with sharp sticks or diving into strange bodies of water and avoiding old men with candy pretty much took care of our safety requirements. But today, it's become a full time job.

I think it started when the toothpaste companies figured out how much extra toothpaste they could unload by convincing us to brush and floss for fifteen minutes three times a day. Within a New York minute, every business selling health and safety switched from promoting their products with sex to promoting them with guilt.

How many garages do you see anymore that have one of those girlie calendars hanging behind the door. Now they fill their walls with preventive maintenance charts, and if you don't take your car in for its three month checkup, the service manager rolls his eyes as if to say "what a sort of cretin are you anyway?"

Well I'm telling you, after enough dentists, mechanics, chiropractors, fitness instructors, home repairmen and landscapers have rolled their eyes at me, I've gotten the message. I brush and floss, brush and floss. And since those Firestone tires began blowing apart, I check my air pressure weekly and for good measure, my belts, my hoses and my bushings...whatever they are.

I increase my heart rate at least three times a week for a minimum of one-half hour; wash off my cutting board and counter top with the proper mixture of bleach and water to kill any clandestine salmonella bacteria; and check my smoke, carbon monoxide and radon detectors, fire extinguishers, weather alert radio and flashlight batteries monthly, but I worry if I should do it weekly. Would daily be better?

I read all the labels in the supermarket for fat, sodium and carbohydrate content before dumping the stuff into my shopping cart; the warnings on my prescriptions for drug interactions and side effects; the 'Alert!'s on any electronic gear I purchase. I even reread the tags on my pillows to be certain I didn't miss anything when I bought them. With all that extra reading, I'm always sure to get my annual eye exam.

I wear an ear plug extension so my cell phone discharge won't be too close to my brain; never linger under power lines; regularly check my skin for any signs of melanoma; and always wash my hands after using public lavatories. I wear my seatbelt when I'm driving; a helmet when I'm biking; a scarf around my neck when I go north for Christmas. I wear a condom even if I'm only having an intense conversation with a woman.

My auto, health and life insurance policies are up to date; I periodically review my will and have left clear instructions for my adult children on where to find my death checklist.

I'm even concerned about strangers' health and safety. When I see the conditions the Afghan people are living under, I can't help but worry they may not have child-proof locks on their home cleaning products. Well, someday they may be sorry for their recklessness.

What am I missing?

I think we should be able to buy screw-up insurance so if we overlook something really important, the policy covers us. Problem is, what if we miss something in the small print.

The other day I totaled up the amount of time we're advised to spend ensuring our health and safety. It comes to 5535 minutes a month. After adding in the mandatory 14,400 minutes of REM sleep, 4500 minutes to properly prepare, eat and digest a healthy diet, 1800 minutes of hard exercise, 3600 minutes of sharing quality time with loved ones, 10,560 minutes of satisfying and productive work and 2700 minutes for personal hygiene and household chores, we're left with precisely 105 minutes a month or three and a half minutes a day to have fun.

Just don't do it playing with sharp sticks!