I’ve been meaning to do a post on The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse for some time now. It’s among the more enduring – and flexible – images to be extracted from the last book of the New Testament – The Revelation to St. John of Patmos – chapter 6 to be exact. According to Wikipedia, St. John of Patmos was an exile and a visionary. The inclusion of his work in the Christian canon is one of the more surprising facts of church history. Full of oddball numerology and wild images, John’s “Revelation” has been interpreted as everything from literal historical End Times prophecy, to a peyote-fueled bender that bears less resemblance to anything we might expect to see or hear about on the evening news than to imagery from a very bad dream.
One traditional interpretation breaks down the Horsemen’s roles as: 1) Christ (or Anti-Christ) = “white,” 2) War = “red,” 3) Famine = “black,” and 4) Plague = “pale.” Whatever the significance, these guys are not just here for Sunday dinner. No, they mean business, and an unpleasant business it surely is. As to those tangled eschatological wrangles I choose to take no part. Rather, in the tradition of many down the ages, I’d like to use The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse for purposes of my own. So, settle in: There’s a tale to tell. And the Horsemen are here to help me tell it.
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From birth, each of us are endowed with certain traits that either contribute to our life, health, and longevity, or detract from it. Maybe we’re born with a certain specific genetic disorder like, say, Cystic Fibrosis, that most often leads to an early demise in young adulthood. Or maybe there’s a certain constellation of inherited traits, habits, and environmental exposures that predispose us to systemic malfunctions later in life – circulatory, respiratory, digestive, whatever – or to any of the myriad insidious cancers of breast, bowel, prostate, lung, or brain, that will do us in one way or another, sooner or later, by hook or by crook.
For most of us who live to a certain age, it’s not just one thing that could kill us, it’s many. In fact, there are probably at least four potential killers that might end our lives at any point in time. And these I like to think of as The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse.
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In my own case, there’s a family tree littered with the fallout of psychiatric disorders including depression, psychosis, and more than a couple completed suicides. It’s one of the things that led me early on to pursue a career in psychiatry – and later, to abandon it. But that’s another tale for another day. The point is, though maybe that’s my Black Horse, it’s still just one among several.
One of my grandmothers died relatively young – about the same age I am now – of an unspecified “respiratory virus” that took her down in just 3 days. It was a shock back then, long before COVID-19. But it’s a fact borne out by the coroner’s report. Is this the Pale Horse that awaits me? If so, how would I – or anyone – know except after the fact?
Another grandmother died of a stroke secondary to Adult Type-2 diabetes, a condition which we share. For me, that’s probably my White Horse, white being the color of refined sugar which we diabetics must assiduously avoid. I have written on the forbidden joys of eating ice cream elsewhere, and you can read that extended meditation here if you’re so inclined.
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My dad lived until age 96. But without triple bypass surgery he’d likely have bought the farm decades earlier. Surgical prep work for benign hypertrophy of the prostate revealed multiple coronary blockages that warranted immediate intervention. He never really had the prostate thing taken care of, and that’s what ultimately got him. But in the intervening years he played a lot of rounds of golf and was relatively vigorous well into his 90’s.
My mom also lived into her 90’s. She succumbed – strange for a non-smoker – to chronic pulmonary disease that by the end prevented her from getting a good deep breath. For many years her docs closely followed a spot on her kidney because her sister had earlier died of renal cell carcinoma. But as it turns out, it was lung not kidney that finally finished her.
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As for me, which horse – Red, Black, White, or Pale – will win the race? Your guess is as good as mine. But all’s I’m saying is, for each of us – from starting gate to post – there are plenty of contenders. And whatever the odds, only one of them crosses the finish line first. So, ladies and gentlemen, place yer bets. It’s a fine day here at the track…
