THAT'S MEN:We don't like being asked to give up something as our habitual behaviours are part of who we are
THE OTHER day I was in an Italian takeaway when a man walked in and ordered a fresh cod and chips. "Don't give me too many chips," he said. "I've been ordered off them."
I should explain that in this establishment "too many" chips would amount to enough to sustain a fair-sized army on a peace-keeping mission.
"Just enough" would feed a small family. It's one of the reasons I go there.
"I was in the hospital for four or five months," he said. "I got a small heart attack."
Neither myself nor the man behind the counter said anything as we contemplated just how bad a "small" heart attack has to be to put you in the hospital for four or five months.
"Anyway they put me off everything," he said. "But f*** them."
The man behind the counter continued to work silently as he perhaps mulled over his potential role in his customer's early demise.
I got my order and left, wondering why this man would risk his life for the sake of a fresh cod and chips.
Then it struck me that it wasn't all that hard to understand. What he did wasn't just about giving in to temptation. It was about that "f*** them".
A serious illness puts you into the hands of the medics, the nurses, the hospital and this, that and the other clinic.
All very necessary of course, but it's their world and everything that happens in there runs by their rules.
In human beings there is a cussedness, a "f*** them" that shows itself in everything from starting a war to ignoring the doctors' orders to stay out of the chipper.
I was once at a presentation given by health workers about the importance of their involvement with former patients. The example they gave was of a man in his 70s who had an exceptional fondness for eggs.
This guy could get through a dozen eggs a day, no problem. Anyhow, he ended up in the hospital and the medics determined that his egg-eating days must come to an end.
Fine, but he liked his eggs. He liked his eggs so much that he kept right on eating them after he got home. Various health professionals laid siege to him, visiting him, giving him helpful information about cholesterol, about healthy types of food and so on.
By the time they gave the presentation they had got him down to six eggs a day or so he told them. He bought his eggs in the shop, but he also kept hens so I have no doubt that he frequently topped up his meagre allowance. And as he did, I bet that "f*** them" sentiment was not far from his mind.
When you are urged or even instructed to give up something you really like, you are being asked to become somebody else.
Our habitual behaviours really are part of who we are. That's why it is such a triumph for anybody to give up an addiction to drink, drugs or cigarettes.
And that is why it is so hard to give up anything that becomes part of our habitual behaviour.
We tend to defend ourselves. I went to a meeting once which was addressed by people promoting a method of meditation. As well as meditating, they didn't eat anything that was bad for them - no "chip nights" in their homes - and they stayed off the booze.
They radiated health. They glowed with it. Their calm was palpable. They looked as if they could live for a thousand years.
And there I was sitting there saying to myself: "Oh my God, I wouldn't want to be like that."
Why? Because if I became like them I would be somebody else. And my existing self, unsatisfactory as it is, just isn't willing to step aside.
If I get a heart attack and survive will I obey the doctors' orders?
I hope so. I should. I would be idiotic not to. But being human, I can't guarantee I won't be like the man in the chipper, throwing in my "f*** them" along with the salt and vinegar, asterisks and all.
• Padraig O'Morain is a counsellor. His bookThat's Men - the best of the That's Men column from The Irish Times is published by Veritas