Yes, that is a serious question!
Average life expectancy has roughly doubled in the last 150 years. Whereas life expectancy at birth 150 years ago was around 35-40 years it is now around 80 years. (See Why are you not dead yet? which is an interesting read.) Well OK they’re figures for the US, but the UK and rest of the developed world isn’t much different. According to Wikipedia medieval life expectancy in the UK was 30 years, and was still only 31 years in the early 20th century. Indeed (according to World Bank data, via Google Public Data) UK life expectancy has risen 10 years in the last 50!

Forget airplanes, cars, nuclear weapons and the internet. This increase in life expectancy is probably the most important difference between our modern world and life 150 years ago.
Before the advent of modern medicine — and a lot of that has happened since World War 2 — infant and child mortality was incredibly high. And many of those who survived into adulthood were killed by accidents or disease which would be easily vanquished today. Just as an example, one of Noreen’s relatives about 100 years ago died in his mid-30s of erysipelas (St Anthony’s Fire), a bacterial skin infection which today would be quickly cured by antibiotics.
Remember that just because your direct ancestors lived into their 50s, 60s or even 80s, there were many children who died before puberty and hence are no-one’s direct ancestors. In the 19th century families of 10 or 12 children, with only one or two reaching adulthood, are not uncommon. And it was a lucky family which didn’t lose a single child even well into the 20th century.
In fact there is a good chance that you — yes, you reading this! — are already on your second or third life. And that is almost certainly down to either modern medicine or modern safety (think things like seat belts and air-bags).
In my late 20s I had appendicitis. It grumbled for a year or more until the medics decided what it was and removed the offending organ before it blew up. Without that medical intervention I would likely have died of peritonitis within a year or two. Noreen has similar stories — blood poisoning from an infected toe injury; a shattered left elbow (which would have been at least disabling). And we have both been extremely lucky with our health!
We all forget how common such diseases and injuries are and how much we have come to take for granted that they can be fixed. We also forget all those illnesses (smallpox, polio, whooping cough (aka. pertussis), measles) which we never or seldom see because of vaccination.
So tell me, please, why are you not dead yet? Without modern medicine what would have killed you? I’m curious to know.

The last 24-36 hours has been decidedly “Meh”, at best.
It all started yesterday afternoon when I fell asleep in the chair. Which is, of itself, not that unusual. But the thing was that when I awoke I felt decidedly out of sorts: lethargic, miserable (almost depressed) and ratty; generally incapable. Again nothing new there.
Because we were supposed to be visiting our friend Katy in Leicester today, things had to be done. And as it was to be an early start, an early night was desired. Which was good, ‘cos I still felt “meh” and put it down to the inevitable stress of being bright-eyed and bushy tailed long before o’God o’clock.
Signal for the phone to beep, with a text …
<flashback>
On Saturday we had been out to a local Thai restaurant with friends who had recently returned from holiday in foreign parts. Eldest child (a teenager) wasn’t there ‘cos he was ill with what sounded like ‘flu — the way one does. Anyway we went back to theirs for coffee after the meal as the youngest needed bed before an early Sunday start.
</flashback>
Anyway the upshot was that the teenager was taken to the doctor yesterday, and then to the hospital, to be diagnosed with a nasty, and rather infectious, foreign disease. Hence the text message. We didn’t at this stage know how far the infection might have spread, so I felt we should warn Katy — and she sensibly suggested we abandon our meet-up.
Well, if nothing else it’s a novel excuse!
And it seemed like a good call.
So we relaxed and drank to the teenager’s speedy recovery with a large G&T. But, unlike in days of yore, “meh”-ness was not abated by internal application of gin.
Sleep finally overcame me at about 1AM. And it stayed. And it then couldn’t find its coat to leave. I finally woke up some time after 11AM. Now not just feeling “meh” but also depressed. Bugger!
This last I do not understand; although there must be a genetic something there as my father was the same. He’d not sleep well but then be dead to the world all morning. I remember him being like this even when I was a teenager. Even on non-work days my mother would be up by about 8.30 and around 9-9.30 bring both me and my father cups of tea (in a desperate attempt to get us out of bed). I’d struggle into consciousness and descend by around 10. But not my father. He’d appear at 11, or later, with the words “It’s very odd, I found this cold cup of tea by the bed”.
My father was little better during the week. He’d normally struggle from his bed after 8AM and expect to catch the 8.33 train. (Luckily we lived 3 minutes trot from the station so he usually succeeded.) As a teenager I got so fed up with his frantic approach to mornings that, by choice, I used to get up at 7 and be out to school (just a mile away) before 8AM.
I recognise this now as all being down to depression; depression which didn’t abate as my father got older: he was no better in his 80s than in his 40s.
So anyway … after lunch today I spent and hour lying in the sun in the garden, enjoying warmth and light; and I then spent the rest of the afternoon “jellivating” — just sitting like a lump of jelly doing naff all of any use.

And now, this evening, after food? Well I’m aware that I’m still depressed, but do feel a bit better for the food and a couple of large bottles of Peroni. With luck tomorrow will bring something less “meh”; which would be good and appreciated.
Meanwhile this whole depression thing is something I really don’t understand. What causes it? Why is it often so sudden and so variable? Why is it there at all? And what can one do it banish it?
With me a part of it is clearly SAD, but not all of it because I still get it in the summer, and always have. And a part of it could well have a genetic basis — as noted above my father was depressive and I’m told his father was as well. Whether there is any more to it I can’t determine. I suspect there is, but I’ve no idea what. Or why.
Nor do I know how to fix any of it. Yes, antidepressants help, but they don’t cure it. Light therapy for the SAD doesn’t seem to work on me; but then I don’t think SAD is the predominant factor.
The best cure is probably amputation at the neck!
Or just shoot me!
[PS. Seems medics aren’t worried about the spread of infectious disease and were relieved that teenager hadn’t acquired malaria. He’s in for a long recovery though.]