Renewing our warranties

Everything has expiration dates. Our food is stamped with them. Our cars, devices, and technology have them. Even our health, and our very lives, has its limits.

About six weeks ago, I tore the Achilles tendon on my left heel. It wasn’t a complete rupture; an ultrasound revealed that half of the fibers were still connected the way they should be. So my treatment has consisted of a large boot and some physical therapy.

When people see the massive boot, almost everyone asks me what happened. Then they invariably want to know how it happened. The tale isn’t very exciting. I was descending, fairly gently, two small steps one morning and the tendon just gave way. “You should come up with a better story,” most say. “Just make something up!” I usually smile. Then shrug. The truth is sometimes dull. Yesterday, I decided to share it.

“I turned 60 this summer. I guess the warranty on my Achilles was up.”

That answer got a laugh. It also got me thinking. The warranty was up. Who knows what sorts of micro tears and strains that tendon has sustained over the years. It wasn’t designed to last forever. I’m probably lucky that it has lasted this long.

We are, for better or worse, organisms with limited lifespans. The warranties on our parts are typically less than the lifespans. The older we get, the more those parts fail. Sometimes it is because we haven’t cared for them. But many times it is because the parts just weren’t designed to last as long as we are. The spirit is often more willing to keep going than the flesh is able to do so.

Consider the musculoskeletal system – a major set of human componentry with short-term warranty. Knees are especially notorious for their inability to sustain the shock and awe of modern living. Contemporary lifestyles and the pounds associated with food surplus are just too much for the thin cartilaginous cushions inside most of our knees. Over time, the cushions loose their spring. Then the bones grate against each other. Arthritis follows.

Fortunately, medicine has found ways to help many of us with expired skeletal warranties. Once uncommon, joint replacements are now a routine part of the menu of options available to address bone and joint failures. These days a person can actually have a knee, hip, or shoulder replaced and be home the same day. Just like our cars, routine maintenance will only go so far. Yet we can keep the same chassis if we are willing to swap out some parts. We can’t do that indefinitely; biology won’t permit things attached to the core framework to run past a certain expiration date. But the reliability of some key human constituencies can be refreshed. New warranty periods are possible. Those extensions don’t come with guarantees. Neither of course did the original parts themselves.

Which leads me to wondering what else might be renewable in the human form and experience, besides our joints. Basic elements of anatomy can be replaced, yes. More elements, including even organs, may be possible soon. It is conceivable that, in the next few decades, we will be able to swap out a larger and larger portion of our worn, disease-riddled, or neglected physical selves. If we can do this safely and appropriately – and equitably – that may not be so bad. Suffering will be decreased. Some diseases, such as diabetes or Parkinson’s, may be able to be cured. I used to feel less favorably inclined to such futuristic scenarios. Now, perhaps because of age, or maybe because of evolving insight, the promise of human part replacement doesn’t bother me as much. In fact, I hope that medical science can accelerate some of its capabilities so that more of us, across the age spectrum, can benefit. It is terribly unfair that some children are born with certain debilitating and life threatening conditions. It is tragic that certain genetic mutations or extrinsic infectious illnesses can leave teens and adults with useless organs and physical components. It is wrong to deny the same help for those who have failed to care for perfectly normal systems that would have lasted longer save for people’s poor choices. If we can do something about suffering and physical impairment, we should.

However, we shouldn’t fool ourselves, especially those of us peeking over the crest of life’s final decades: there is more to being human than having a physical form in good or excellent condition. There are emotional, spiritual, and mindful considerations as well. And they can likewise become arthritic, decrepit, or poorly functional. We must tend to their warranties as well.

When was the last time you thought about the warranty of your mental health? It can, and often does, fail. As does the warranty of our spirits; some of us struggle to appreciate the critical role that spirit plays in the definition of human purpose – the why of our existence, and the what next. We can forget that our minds, emotions, and souls have their own expiration dates and ignore the renewal of those non-physical warranties at a peril far greater than that created by an arthritic knee or a partially torn Achilles tendon. Sadly, there aren’t the same types of same day replacement procedures available for our minds and spirits as for our skeletal systems. The rejuvenation of the spirit or the restoration and replenishment of the mind takes more than a quick trip to the body shop for a join. A different type of societal commitment is required.

And prioritization. The health of mind and spirit is equally if not more important as that of the body. That kind of health renewal takes time. It takes skills and supports different than those necessary for warranty renewal of the corpus. Helping a person in the depths of depression and despair should be fundamental to our communal approach to wellbeing. Likewise should be the open recognition and support for spiritual sustenance. I don’t know about you but I’m not interested in a longer life purely for the sake of more years. I’d prefer to have those years be ones of mental peace, social stability, and spiritual prosperity.

That’s why I’ve decided to redouble my focus on warranties beyond those of my tendons and bone junctions. Who knows when other types of expiration dates may be headed my way? Better to proactively tend to those renewals while I still have the opportunity. Because a simple boot and physical therapy series aren’t enough to repair or renew the challenges of a faltering personality, moral compass, or soul. If some of those warranties expire, second chances may not be possible.