Life is fatal - that is pretty well proven. There are medications, surgeries, treatments that can extend your time on earth, but no one gets out of the ending.
So I hold in great respect those who gracefully excuse themselves from the chemo and radiation and simply tie up as many loose ends as they can and wait in patience for the end.
I have a neighbor who, after being diagnosed with a rare form of cancer, moved back to the Northwest for both treatment and to be closer to her family. After two rounds of chemo (which didn't seem to affect the cancer much), she has come back, renting a house almost directly across from where they lived before, has reintroduced herself to her faith and Catholic beliefs, and is doing all she can to enjoy the time she has left.
Her husband is being incredibly supportive and patient, and like her, is helping her enjoy what she can.
I felt humbled this morning spending time with her, and feeling her willing acceptance of the future.
However, when I reach that point in my life, I hope I then can do the semi-dangerous things I've been putting off for fear of a(nother) broken head and coma, such as:
- go skydiving again, but SOLO, not as a tandem
- ride Najale in the Palominas Unofficial Unorganized Christmas Parade
- rappel off Coronado Peak naked
and then finally:
- die of a wonderful overdose of chocolate.
Yeah, if wishes were fishes, we'd all cast our nets (courtesy of the novel "Dune")
No comments:
Post a Comment