Two Cups of Coffee

As I have written previously, when I learned that I have cancer, from the nature and extensiveness of it, I realized immediately that under no circumstances would I now live to a ripe old age. Because of my parents' extreme longevity, and because I had long taken great pains with respect to diet, exercise, and medical check-ups, I had always been concerned about disabilities of old age. In particular, I was concerned about going blind one day. My father suffers from wet macular degeneration, and my mother is legally blind from glaucoma. About 10 years ago, I was diagnosed with a complicated case of glaucoma as well, for which I meticulously administer four different prescription eye drops in various combinations each day to lower my interocular pressure from normal to sub-normal. About seven years ago, I serendipitously discovered that caffeine raises my intraocular pressure. Since then, I have abstained from caffeine, which had always been my drug of choice.

The morning after I learned that I have cancer, I decided that, now that I don't have to worry about outliving my eyesight, I may as well go back to enjoying coffee. So I had a cup with my breakfast, and it was every bit as enjoyable as I had remembered. And I did the same thing the next morning. But the third morning, I decided that even though resuming coffee consumption would now be perfectly rational behavior, it seemed like a self-destructive, negative thing for me to do. To date, I have not had another cup of coffee.