First, it was blisters all over my fingertips. Next, it was a pain in and around my kidney area. Now, just this minute, I’ve found a bruise of mysterious origin on the inside of my arm.
“Am I going to die?” I wonder. “Yes, of course,” is the only answer. But this contingency was made inevitable by the earliest and most pernicious of my symptoms — namely, my own birth, in 1979.