Nov. 30: YOLO

Hello, my name is Dr. Ronald Tremain, and this year I’m thankful for YOLO (You Only Live Once). I don’t know who coined this wonderful phrase, but if you know and you can tell me, I’d like to send them a Christmas card, because in the last 18 months I’ve seen a 78% rise in profits off YOLO related injuries alone. We’re talking broken bones, we’re talking alcohol poisoning, we’re talking STD’s. Mostly STD’s, to tell you the truth.

The great thing about YOLO is that it’s such a catchy and compact little phrase, you hear it and flash on your mortality without thinking for a second about the consequences, or if you’re physically up for whatever it is you’re doing. This one guy, 47-year old father of three, came into my office just last week with two broken legs. Skateboarding accident. This guy weighed 250 pounds, and he hopped on his kid’s skateboard and launched himself down a half-pipe because he saw a t-shirt that reminded him he was going to die. I actually wrote ‘Ka-ching’ on his chart and then scratched it out, because I was afraid he’d see it and get all lawyered up.

Or how about the 36-year old mother of two who came in after snapping an ankle skydiving? Or the 29-year old graduate student who presented with severe dehydration after trying ecstasy for the first time? Or the many, many people I’ve treated for injuries relating to the mishandling of fireworks? Or again, all the STD’s?

The great things about these YOLO cases is that they’re relatively easy to treat. Honestly, the hardest thing about treating these people is not letting them see the dollar signs flashing in my eyes.

It probably says something about our culture that when we hear YOLO we aren’t inspired to feed the homeless or donate money to flood relief, instead we fling ourselves off something tall or go home with someone sketchy. I’m not going to examine that too much, though. Mostly because the majority of my off-hours these days are taken up by my new boat. I had a boat, now I have two. And my new boat is fucking enormous.

YOLO is a fad, of course, and fads are short lived. I’m very aware of that. So listen to this great idea I’ve come up with—I’m going to print up 10,000 wrist bands with YOLO written on one side and my office’s phone number and address on the other. And I’m going to distribute them on college campuses, at bars, NASCAR races, the food court at the mall; anywhere ennui meets high-risk behavior. I was thinking of having some condoms made with YOLO on the packaging, too, but distributing condoms could actually hurt my business.

Does treating all these YOLO cases make me reflect on my own mortality? Of course it does. Do I sometimes wake up in a cold sweat, worrying that time spent sleeping is wasted time, when ultimately my lifetime is finite? No more than I did before. Has this YOLO thing hurt my marriage? You bet. But if there’s one thing I know, it’s that while You Only Live Once, there’s plenty of fish in the sea, and when you have two boats the fish are easy to find.