Disease Is Nature's Survival of the Fittest: One's Ability to Adapt Determines Longevity

Once, when I was away on a house call, a cancer patient in his twenties lay in a hospital bed and asked me, "Why did I get this disease?" He felt heaven was deeply unfair; his mother had died not long before of another cancer.

I thought a moment and said to him: "Actually, this is nature carrying out the survival of the fittest. The whole process by which we humans have multiplied on this earth is one of natural selection and genetic improvement. You have unfortunately gotten this disease precisely because your genes are not good enough."

This is a law of nature—cruel but very real. People should admit it, face it squarely, confront it, and strive to adapt to it.

Many people have poor genes and suffer illness from a young age, yet live a long time. Others have good genes yet are not long-lived.

The reason is simple. It is like some people who are very poor but live frugally and never waste money, yet always have enough; others who are rich but, having grown used to spending freely, are always strapped.

The wise patient, knowing he is one of nature's candidates for elimination, minimizes the consumption of his own life, lives sparingly, and ends up long-lived.

The foolish patient acts against the laws of nature, constantly abusing his already poor body, and early death becomes inevitable.

So whether a person with a poor constitution lives long or short has a great deal to do with his own ability to adapt.

At the end of last year, by West Lake, I chatted with a patient I get on well with. We were both born in 1979, and our childhoods were quite similar.

He has worked hard all his life and is outstanding. But his constitution is not good; he was not necessarily healthy as a child.

He has a ferocious drive. At school, whenever a teacher looked down on him, he would buckle down, master that subject brilliantly, take first place, and make them change their view. This habitual way of thinking ran through his whole life, and he became outstanding. A farming boy who struck back, went abroad to study, returned, and became an executive.

I was just the opposite. Whatever teacher did not treat me well, I ignored them—skipped class and skipped homework, and that subject I surely learned badly. Only if a teacher admired me and said this boy is a genius would I study hard. This habitual thinking has run through my life too.

Even now, this is how I handle what Buddhism calls "the meeting with the unpleasant": I keep a polite distance.

If anyone dislikes me, or I dislike them, I cut the relationship cleanly, knife-like.

WeChat contacts who displeased me or whom I displeased: deleted. Followers who displeased me or whom I displeased: blocked.

I do nothing while under negative emotion. Only when I am happy will I apply myself.

Actually my own constitution is also very poor; I am one hundred percent a candidate for natural elimination.

As a child I always wet the bed, right through primary school. My parents did not know how to raise a child scientifically; every time I wet the bed, they thought it was because I was too lazy at night to get up and urinate.

To break me of this bad habit, they punished me severely; whenever they caught me wetting the bed again, they chased and beat me all over the village.

I remember being ten-odd years old and still being chased and scolded and beaten for wetting the bed. As a child I was the butt of my playmates' jokes.

This left me a serious aftereffect: nervous urinary frequency. I now still readily develop frequency when nervous. At middle school I could not sit through a single class; often halfway through a lesson I had to urinate.

Of course I turned this misfortune to advantage: because of the frequency, I hated being laughed at, and as a result became a thoroughgoing libertarian. From high school on I was excused from rigid attendance and could manage my own time.

Because I had lost all face as a child, growing up I no longer cared about face.

A person who does not fit the crowd and does not care about face develops great powers of self-study, self-reliance and adaptation.

In forty years of life, on the great majority of days no one could control me. To be honest, I feel proud of this. After all, not everyone in this world can be so free.

In my youth I suffered badly from asthma. At twenty-five, my wife was pregnant; seeing me wheeze and cough all day, my face swollen, she was deeply distressed. Not only I despaired; she did too. For a while we even thought of ending both our lives, to put an end to the pain.

Later I taught myself medicine, treated myself, and cured my asthma.

From childhood I was always beset by one disease or another, never knowing a single easy, carefree day. In my youth I never imagined I would live to my present age.

So now that I have lived, I regard myself as a man long since dead; every extra day I live now is a free gift from heaven, and I must live it well.

Now I generally fall asleep before nine in the evening, rise around five, finish breakfast by six, and walk plus jog outdoors from six thirty to eight. After running I feel clear and refreshed, full of energy. From eight thirty I see patients, read, and write. After lunch I also take a walk and a short nap.

So although I was frail and sickly as a child, I still maintain good physical stamina.

I know my body is not good, and over the years I have not pushed myself. I have given up excessive pursuit of material things and of ideals, pursuing a relatively easy, comfortable life.

I also know I do not have such great psychological resilience, so I stay away from all the people who made me feel oppressed, screen out every negative stimulus, and end up mentally cheerful and at ease.

So although I may not live as long as those with longevity genes, I have not ended up as miserably as I once feared, dying young.

If nature wants to eliminate us, we should exhaust every way to escape its claws rather than meet it head-on; that way perhaps we live a little longer.

I recognize my body is rubbish, so I never stay up late, drink, or smoke, never overspending my physical and mental strength.

I recognize I am a coward, so I do not show off or play the hero. I hide away, cut my losses, live like a miser, and treat others' mockery as wind; naturally I live a bit longer.

Laozi said: the way of heaven reduces the surplus and supplements the deficient. The way of humans reduces the deficient and adds to the surplus.

The law of nature runs counter to the law of human society. Nature reduces the surplus and supplements the deficient; humans, out of greed, reduce the deficient and add to the surplus.

Some do not recognize this law and push themselves into the fire. Though plainly not robust, they insist on sacrificing their bodies to become somebody. What fools!

I believe that for the robust, hardship is a virtue; for the frail, hardship is folly.

I deeply dislike success literature; I block out all the news and articles of successful people preening about the way to success. To hell with your success; I want to live a few more days.

You with your good health, go chase success. I have none, so I will hole up. A good death is not as good as a wretched life; I am not falling for your trick.