Michael J Fox asks, “Can you be an optimist and a realist at the same time?” Well, let’s see …
I’ve just finished reading ‘No Time Like the Future: An Optimist Considers Mortality’. It’s the latest tome from actor Michael J Fox. He’s a self-professed optimist. The titles of two of his other books — ‘Lucky Man: A Memoir’ and ‘Always Looking Up: The Adventures of an Incurable Optimist’ leave you in no doubt as to the veracity of his sunny outlook.
In this latest book, he details how 2018 was his ‘annus horribilis’ and how the struggles with his body were so great he felt himself slipping into depression. Gone was the optimism, replaced by feelings of despondency and boredom with his situation.
During his slump, he stops and takes a good look at the actual real difficulties of his life and how, in reality, with the unstoppable progression of his Parkinson’s, things are going to become more difficult for him. There’s no way back to good health and to the life he once knew. This is when he asks himself — “Can you be an optimist and a realist at the same time?”
An optimist is a person who is hopeful and confident that things will turn out for the best. They expect favourable outcomes. A realist is a person who accepts and deals with things as they are; who understands what is possible in a particular situation.
The challenge becomes how can he keep his head above water when he understands full well that there are no favourable outcomes for him?
Not enjoying feeling sorry for himself, he resorts to comparing his lot in life to those in the world who he considers are doing it much worse. It gives him perspective and helps him realise the reality of his good fortune. He finds his way back to his usual upbeat frame of mind. The last line of the book is:
“With gratitude, optimism becomes sustainable.”
A great sentiment, no doubt about it.
Now, I love Michael J Fox. I really do. Just ask my family, or go back in time and see his posters on my bedroom wall. So the following is in no way meant to diss him and his sunny disposition. He’s an amazing human being with the best attitude and he offers hope to millions. It’s just that when I’d finished the book (a fantastic read, by the way. Highly recommended. In fact, all his books are excellent), I was left wondering how he would cope if he had to live his life on the other side of the fence. The side where the grass is a touch browner. The side that lacks the distinct privilege he enjoys.
Yes, he had a terrible year health-wise. The on-going, degenerative nature of Parkinson’s is enough to deal with on its own, so to throw delicate spinal surgery and a shattered humerus into the mix is bound to blacken any mood. But if you put his health aside, the rest of his life, in general, is great. Surrounded by a loving, supportive family and friends. Golf with his rich and famous buddies. Holidays at his home on Long Island. Getaways to Martha’s Vineyard. Flying home to Canada on a whim to see his Mum, no doubt enjoying his first class surrounds. Ski holidays with the rich and famous.
He’s got a PA who takes care of the mundane day to day stuff so he can focus on the things that interest him. There’s his agent who calls him with job offers — cameos that are especially created for him or roles that are adapted to suit his physical limitations. He’s got a lawyer. An accountant. A publisher. A doorman at his prime-location New York apartment. He’s a Hollywood sweetheart — with a star on the Walk of Fame. He’s got multiple different entertainment awards lining his shelves. His Parkinson’s Foundation is thriving and lauded. His personal wealth is in the mega-millions which allows him to be answerable to no one and gives his family the freedom to do whatever they choose on a day to day basis. And, if ever needed, bucket loads of money can be made in the blink of an eye just by cashing in on his celebrity.
Most of the rest of the world don’t live like this. An average person works all manner of hours and days for a wage that just about stretches through to the next pay day. This system ensures we have to keep turning up for work if we want to eat and keep a roof over our heads. We do the same job, day in day out, with little to no variety in the role. We are answerable to our employers. We have to ask their permission for a day off, or for vacation time. If we’re sick, we have to advise them. If we just feel like staying home, we can’t. (Unless we ring them and fake an illness.) In essence, they are the boss of us not just at work. We run and manage our own lives, book our own appointments, organise our own schedules, all with no assistance. We sacrifice our ‘me’ time for chores. We save up all year to take a holiday, which is generally a once a year treat. We travel cattle-class. We live where we can afford to live, whether we like the area or not. And if we need bucket loads of money in a hurry … well, bad luck. Option: take a second job.
And premium healthcare? That comes with a premium price. A price a lot of people struggle to meet.
Would MJF truly have been such an incurable optimist if he’d been an average guy who worked an average, unfulfilling job for 20 years barely scraping by with little room for indulgences, got diagnosed with Parkinson’s and had to fund the cost of his meds and treatment on minimum wage, all before eventually losing his job and, therefore, income? Life with money woes is a truly miserable and stressful existence. How does one cope in those circumstance? How does one keep on keeping on? How does one feel gratitude?
And what about when Average Mike urgently needs surgery for a tumour on his spine? As an ordinary working-class stiff there’s no top spinal surgeon from Johns Hopkins for him; a surgeon who rallied a team of other top surgeons to assist him with Actor Mike. Average Mike gets whoever the system assigns to him. I’m sure his surgeon is brilliant, as surgeons often are, but some people are considered THE BEST in their field for a reason.
Post-surgery physio follows for as long as his health insurance allows, if it allows, and when he’s discharged home, he’s on his own, relying on family and friends for the extra support. No 24/7 home care on his budget.
Things were tough before but with all the medical bills coming in, the financial challenges are getting worse for Average Mike and then, to really test his resolve, he falls and shatters his arm in the worst possible place — the humerus. Odds are pretty good that he won’t be privy to the best orthopaedic surgeon to pin it back together again. Odds are also pretty good he won’t have his own personal wheelchair pushers to get him from A to B while he can’t use his arm. Again, that type of support falls back onto family and friends. Too bad if they’re not available at the drop of a hat because they have work and life commitments of their own.
So to answer the question Michael J Fox posed, “Can you be an optimist and a realist at the same time?” I think that really depends on the reality you’re living.
Actor/philanthropist Mike has got it all and the means to keep it all. His life situation allows him to be in control of his choices and decisions. Anything he needs becomes possible, and available, for him. When he was diagnosed with Parkinson’s, his life didn’t shrink, it expanded. For everything the disease took away, it was replaced with something new and meaningful. His life changed. But not necessarily for the worse.
Average Mike is not faring so well. His needs are not so easily or readily met. His choices and decisions are likely dependent on what he can afford. Sure, he could be an optimist, after all it’s just a state of mind and each of us have total free choice in how we think and feel and view our lives. Every day could be precious to him and he could find a million things to be grateful for. But, I think, when Average Mike contemplates the overall quality of his life thus far, sees all the places it’s potentially fallen short of youthful expectations, sees the things he has lost, all the struggles ahead, especially financial, and understands all the ways his life is limited and becoming increasingly so as his disease progresses, coupled with the added stresses this places on his loved ones, he’d be very hard-pressed to stay cheery or hopeful.
Gratitude may well make optimism sustainable but I rather fancy the last line of Average Mike’s book would read:
‘With privilege, optimism becomes sustainable’.
