A Canary on the Front Line
Everyone knows the ubiquitous advertisements for pills that promise to fix male problems.
Online, they seem even more persistent. Algorithms know very well that I am sixty-eight years old.
Compared to their more expensive and more effective cousin—Viagra—these supplements have one undeniable advantage: you don’t need to see a doctor to get them.
Whether that is truly an advantage is another question.
Taking such a pill is like putting tape over a red warning light on your car’s dashboard.
The light is telling you that something is wrong with the engine.
If this happened to a car, most men would head straight to a repair shop without hesitation.
But when their own engine starts to fail, many men simply reach for a pill.
Often because they already know where the problem lies.
Lack of physical activity, excess weight, alcohol consumption, smoking—especially in machines of an older production date—will sooner or later show up on the warning system.
The light turns red.
Instead of changing their lifestyle or visiting a doctor, they swallow a pill.
Interestingly, this topic is rarely discussed openly in restaurants or pubs.
That would go against the very purpose for which this particular device is installed.
The inability to perform at the crucial moment is, in fact, the most sensitive red warning light of the entire organism.
It is often the first sign of vascular problems.
It can precede a heart attack by five to ten years.
The reason is simple: the blood vessels there are finer and more delicate than those supplying the heart.
Miners once used to take a canary down into the mine with them.
The bird was far more sensitive to toxic air than humans.
When the canary stopped singing—or died—the miners knew it was time to run.
Poison gas was present.
Unfortunately, many men prefer to drug their canary so it chirps at least a little, instead of changing the environment.
And once the pill is removed, the bird often won’t sing at all.
I am fortunate that I learned about these mechanisms mostly from professional literature.
In my own case, I seem to have taken the turn before disaster at the very last moment.
At the age of fifty-six.
That was when I started running regularly—always with music.
Warning lights are not meant to be covered up.
They are meant to make us stop.
A pill silences the warning light.
Movement repairs the engine.