I learned today that I have a moderately leaky bicuspid aorta, and I'm gonna need to have it replaced probably in the next 2-12 years. Maybe sooner if I decide to become a power lifter (HA!), maybe longer if I become ultra fit, but not that long from now. I don't have symptoms, which is good. He mentioned some things that I forget the details of, but they were good things. He says the risk of death in surgery is about one in a thousand, but that that number captures *every* kind of aortic valve intervention, including attempts at fixing aortic valve dissections, so it's probably not as high a risk. That's all we'll and good, but it's *my* heart, and if they break it I die. I am going to start taking medication for the first time in my life. Blood pressure meds first, maybe GLP-1s if conventional diet and exercise stall out for me. I'm gonna be treating sleep like a clinical intervention, so if you see me shitposting after 10pm Alaska time, tell me to go to bed and call me a dumb bitch. He said that there shouldn't be any functional actuarial change in my life expectancy. The best thing to do now is delay the surgery as long as possible so that the technology can keep improving. He told me I don't need a bucket list, I should keep saving my money to enjoy when I'm old, and that I'll get to meet any grandkids I might have. But, truth be told, I am going through it right now. This is maybe the first time anyone has told me I have a problem I will need surgery for. As a death lawyer, I counsel people in worse situations all the time. I talk about death and dying all the time. I know what I want if I die (BTW, I have asked my wife to hire Maurice LaMarche to do a farewell cameo for Lrrr if I drop dead, but I have not started the script; until I do, it's just Poochie's farewell note). I'm insured to the point that my wife and kids will never need to work a day in their lives if I croak before my 57th birthday. But I also don't want to die. I have apparently not fully disabused myself of the belief that I will live forever. I don't want to misuse my life or feel like I'm squandering a precious gift. I cannot wait to fix the things that need fixing, or do the things I want to do. I don't want to miss it all. I want to die heroically in my 90s behind the wheel of a fast car, my sinuses full of good cocaine, crashing victimlessly into a ravine and then exploding. I want my days to feel like adventures. I want my friends to know I love them.