I'm Dr. Rock and Roll: Tomorrow Never Knows

            When I was a kid, the song “1999” was about the future. Now, it’s a quarter-century behind me.

            If you’re a Gen-Xer like me, there was no greater point of anxious discussion during our childhoods than the prophecies of Nostradamus. We were regularly told about some mysterious statement he made, contorted to fit to events of the time, convincing all of us that he was some sort of seer or prophet. These were the days before the Internet, so there’s no way of knowing if the things we heard were even real or not (back then, we operated on the unwavering belief that we could trust the people giving us information). For example, folks clung to a prophecy about the “eagle and the bear” joining to defeat “a great snake that arose in the desert,” convinced that this was Nostradamus predicting the Gulf War of the early 90s. He supposedly predicted the fall of the Berlin Wall, the world wars, the Cubs winning the World Series, etc. Pretty good for a guy that lived in the 16th century. With time, I’ve come to see his predictions as less than impressive, or as my friends like to say, “if you talk enough shit, you’ll be right eventually.”

            To me, this is nothing more than our friend, confirmation bias, rearing its ugly head again. When something happens, we look back to see if it could’ve been predicted, and anything remotely resembling what came to pass is viewed as prophetic. It’s another way of our tendency as humans to try to achieve order from chaos, disturbed by the impermanent nature of our collective existence. “Manifest” has become a buzzword in recent years, and I’m a big believer. I have some patients who are terrified of starting any medication, stating, “If something bad can happen, it’ll happen to me.” Even if it isn’t true, they’re subconsciously looking for evidence to support their claim. I’ve gone to the opposite extreme, believing that the best possible outcome is my destiny. I figure if we’re going to play the game of self-fulfilling prophecies, I might as well be playing on the right team.

            In the history of rock and roll, the industry forever waffled between signing copycats of current trends and looking for the next “big thing.” That being said, if the British Invasion of the 60s and the Sunset Strip scene of the 80s taught us, they focused on the former rather than the latter. When groundbreaking artists do appear, they are shunned in favor of a facsimile, which is why Nirvana, Pearl Jam, and the rest of the Seattle scene broke out so big. It’s the industry’s greatest weakness. In a move I never saw coming, I’m going to quote Noel Gallagher from Oasis: “The customer doesn’t know what he wants, you f***ing give it to him. 99% of them are idiots.” He went on to say that the customer didn’t want Jimi Hendrix, or Sgt. Pepper, or the Sex Pistols, but they got it. And let’s not forget the irony of song lyrics that seemed to predict the future, lest we forget Lynyrd Skynyrd singing that “the smell of death surrounds you,” just months before the plane crash that claimed the lives of some of its members. Kurt Cobain claimed he “don’t have a gun,” just years before he committed suicide by, you guessed it, self-inflicted gunshot wound.

The immortal Jimi Hendrix -- didn't want him, but got him anyway.

            In the medical world, one of the unrealistic demands made of me is to function as an oracle. Faced with a terminal diagnosis, patients have often asked, “How much time do I have?”, like there’s a hidden hourglass on someone’s body that only I can see. I’ve never been a fan of the concept, largely because I view death as a mental process, not a physical one. How else do you explain that someone can live with cancer for months to years, yet rapidly decline when they are given their diagnosis? I’ve seen patients live a few months when they should’ve died in a few days, and vice-versa. Every time I try to make a bold proclamation about tomorrow, I am humbled by my Creator, reminding me that I’m not as smart as I think. People are so desperate to know about the future that it manifests in minor ways as well; I can’t count the number of times I’ve started a medication for a patient, only to find out they never started taking it because they read the frightening list of potential side effects given to them by their well-meaning pharmacist. The reason I don’t like going into potential side effects is because of the “prophet” from earlier who claims that all bad things happen to them. Unfortunately, you can’t steal second with your foot on first.

            I don’t know what lies ahead, in my life, my country, or my world. I know one thing for sure, I’m going to enjoy the ride. It beats the hell out of the alternative. I “look forward” to chatting with you again. Be good to each other, treat each other with respect, and don’t worry so much about the future. Peace.

And as we wind on down the road, our shadows taller than our soul...