It is selfish of a leader of a nation to drop dead during office. Jawaharlal Nehru, India’s first prime minister, died suddenly at 74, apparently from a ruptured aneurysm. His aneurysm, allegedly, had something to do with Edwina Mountbatten – the wife of Lord Mountbatten, the last Viceroy of India. Shortly after Nehru’s death, Pakistan attacked India. Nehru’s replacement, Lal Bahadur Shastri, died mysteriously in Tashkent two years after Nehru’s death, and was succeeded by Indira, Nehru’s daughter. India’s future was forever changed by a burst aneurysm or, if rumors are to be believed, by a flagellating spirochaete which left the Raj in bliss.
Clearly, the death of a leader creates turmoil for a republic. So it is understandable that a nation obsessed with health is obsessed with the health of its presidential runners. Mr. Trump’s doctor declared he’s the healthiest presidential candidate ever. Mr. Trump has drawn attention to his super health by pointing to the size of his hands – by Mr. Trump’s standards a rather decorous allusion. It matters not what has hypertrophied Mr. Trump’s hands, what matters is that Mr. Trump’s large hands signal vigor and imagination. The American Psychiatric Association, to their credit, in ruling out a new diagnostic code for Mr. Trump’s colorful soundbites in the next edition of their Diagnostic and Statistical Manual, ended all hopes of banning Mr. Trump from the presidential race on health grounds.