A Pain in the Neck

The topic of what I would do if I became a ghost arose the other day — certainly not because I plan on leaving this mortal coil anytime soon, but it just came up as ridiculous hypothetical questions often do.

I had been reading about the recent measles outbreak in New York City and the outcry against the anti-vaxxers, a growing number of parents who don’t vaccinate their children against childhood diseases like measles and mumps because they think the vaccines can possibly cause autism. There’s a mumps outbreak at my old alma mater, and I’ve heard that whooping cough, which killed my grandpa’s sister more than a century ago, is also making a comeback.

I’m a live-and-let-live type. I may rail on about my silly pet peeves like that Subway Fritos sandwich, flip-flops on the train and some truly bad Hollywood movies, but, for the most part, I don’t give a lot of thought to the personal choices of others. If you want to ditch your self-respect, rub city filth all over your feet and waste two hours of your life, it doesn’t bother me.

I felt the same about the anti-vaxxers, until I realized it could affect me, too. After this high-dose chemo, I’m pretty susceptible to just about everything with my low white blood cell counts. The whole reason for this upcoming stem cell transplant is because the chemo really does a number on your bone marrow. I think of it as being broken down and then rebuilt, like Iron Man (speaking of bad movies, Iron Man 2, I’m looking at you) or Robocop.

After the transplant (presumably before I get superpowers), I’m told I’ll have the immune system of a newborn. I’ll have to stay away from crowds and children. I’ll have to get revaccinated again. (I’ve already been vaccinated once as a baby, then again as a 12-or 13-year-old after there was some recall.) I have to take anti-shingles medicine every day, twice a day, for a year and a half after the transplant.

But I’m a little alarmed that there’s this extra risk for things like measles, mumps and whooping cough out there. I understand where the anti-vaxxers are coming from; no parent would put their child at risk for a disorder we know so little about. But that choice is having more widespread affects than I think we anticipated. I realize the term “outbreak” is being used pretty liberally. And I have a lot of real things to face, versus hypotheticals.

Yet this could affect me, whereas people who believe gluten is toxic don’t. I want everyone to be happy, so if I personally think the solution is more research into autism so we can figure out the causes. We need some real science behind this, so people can make educated, informed and safe decisions. Easier said than done. I bet no one’s ever thought of this before!

Well wishes aside, after I read about the measles, I announced that if get a turn-of-the-last century disease and perish, I will haunt the crap out of anti-vaxxers. We’re talking Amityville Horror-style. I am going to be one pissed-off ghost. I would have trouble haunting Jenny McCarthy, because I really enjoyed that Singled Out show. I always preferred Lauren Conrad to Kristin Cavallari, but if I could haunt celebs, I’d prefer to haunt someone more exciting. My hypothetical ghost has already become shallow and sidetracked from its afterlife mission.

The thing is, I don’t think you can select where you’ll end up and who you’ll haunt.

I suppose this begs the question: Do I believe in ghosts? Absolutely. I’m not sure if I believe that people’s spirits stay behind and haunt the earth, but I love stories of unexplained phenomena. So this might totally discount my reasonable stance on vaccines. I get that. I’m no expert. I’m just some lady. And I would rather talk about ghosts any day. I love a good ghost story.

Years ago, I wrote an article about ghosts of Columbus, Ohio. I spoke to a few ghost experts and enthusiasts, but maybe my favorite part was speaking to people who had just happened to see a ghost. Talking to people who had just seen something they couldn’t explain made me a believer in something—if not ghosts, then something ghost-like.

Some of the ghosts seemed cognizant of the outside world; one guy saw the ghost actually wave at him in a mirror. Most of the ghosts that people saw seemed to be intently doing the same thing—and in most cases, it’s leading up to an important moment. I can’t say why one ghost always makes his way to the same movie theater seat or why one ghost is constantly running up the service stairs of a hotel.

In that story, I also wrote about author and cartoonist James Thurber, who wrote The Secret Life of Walter Mitty and documented his ghost experience in his story, The Night the Ghost Got In. One night, Thurber heard heavy footsteps around his dining room table, then the sound of someone running up the stairs. When he asked about it, he’d heard a few people had moved out because of the ghost, belonging to a man who had lived at the house. According to Thurber’s research, the man had received information that if he went home in the morning, he’d catch his wife and her lover. Supposedly, he did catch the pair, then ran around his kitchen in despair before running upstairs and shooting himself. From what I heard, the ghost continues to haunt resident authors from time-to-time.

Most ghosts seem stuck in a loop. I imagine you can’t choose the place you’d like to haunt, as you choose your favorite haunts in life. Otherwise, places like bars, restaurants and amusement parks would be packed with fun-loving ghosts. Ghosts don’t seem very mobile. Or fun-loving, for that matter.

And you probably can’t choose who you’d haunt either, which is a big bummer. And kind of a relief. Imagine if people you’d wronged in life could suddenly show up in phantom form and seek vengeance for a past wrong. I bet we’d treat one another a little differently.

I can’t think anyone who would haunt me, but I can think of at least six people I would enjoy scaring the crap out of, if given the opportunity. I don’t know that I’d want to haunt them long-term, though.

If I ever became a ghost, haunting my current place of residence would be most likely. I wonder if I’d spook the cats.

My boyfriend and I discussed what I would do if I returned as a ghost, and I realized I would continue to pester him about the things I do now. It’s in his best interest to keep me alive.

First of all, I would rattle around the unwashed dishes in the sink. When I do the dishes, I do all of them, but he always leaves some at the bottom. He never does them all, and it drives me crazy. Also, he leaves the silverware, so that we regularly run out of all spoons. I would use my ghostly powers to make a ruckus in the kitchen.

Then I would sweep all of the papers off the dining room table. When I met my boyfriend, his dining room table was full of stacks of papers and CDs, and I had a nice empty dining room table. Since he moved in with me, my table has never been clean. I used to clear it off, but I was told I was messing things up. It doesn’t matter whether we live in a small apartment or had a house with a room that served as an office, everything ends up on the table. I’ve given up. Sweeping everything off every night as a phantom would give me great satisfaction. I would almost live an unsatisfying afterlife as a ghost so I could finally do that.

Also, no matter where I haunted, I’d probably turn up the heat. I’m always cold and waging a heat battle. I’m not sure if ghosts get cold. They’re sometimes responsible for cold spots, so maybe it’s moot. Maybe I’d just mess with the thermostat to be a jerk.

So, I suppose after careful consideration, I’d prefer not to be a ghost. It’s not the same as being invisible and acting without consequence, which would be awesome. And my boyfriend has been so nice to me during my illness, he doesn’t deserve to be nagged about the spoons and the table. (I’m just saying, though, if I lingered on this earth, I might.)

In the meantime, I’ll keep in mind that the chances of being taken out by an old virus is very small. Probably smaller, in fact, than my chances of becoming a ghost.