I worry more about suffering, however, than I do about dying. But when I do think about dying, I get really sad because I start missing myself. Isn't that bizarre?I have to remind myself that just because I have an incurable disease doesn't mean that THAT is what will kill me. It could be something else entirely, like a drunk driver. I suspect that if you have been battling illness for a long time, you might more easily "let go" as death approaches, but if you've been struck down quickly, I would hope I wouldn't let go without a good fight!
I don't think you can be chronically ill and not think about it once in a while, at least not without really strong meds. I'm scared of the unknown, just like everyone else. Of course, there's nothing like being told by your doc that you have 3 options to choose from - pd, hemo, or death. Somehow, that does tend to clarify your thinking, ya know? I've watched my mom, my good friend and my grandparents fade badly before dying in excruciating pain. I've watched my father drop dead in my arms. Given a choice, I know what route I'd choose - and long suffering isn't it. My own experience hasn't shown a great deal of that "calm, joyful acceptance" crap they like to peddle from church or the local hospice center. My grandmother was deeply religious, but at the end, she was down to swearing at God for not ending her suffering. I have one thing I'm holding onto for hope that there really is another big adventure after this one. Not long after my mother died, she came back to me in the most intense, vivid dream I've ever had. It was so real I truly thought I had died in my sleep and she had come for me. I asked her if I was dead and told her I wasn't ready to go. She said it wasn't my time and that I had to "wait to catch the summer train." I woke up sitting bolt upright in bed with that phrase ringing in my ears. I have no idea what that means - it's not a phrase I've ever heard used in any story I can think of. So I'm still waiting to find out when my ticket for the summer train will come, so I can find out where it goes.
“Wait to catch the summer train”... what a beautiful poetical thought....Now you have had your transplant... you have started to study again...You certainly have put “everything in its place” to be ready and prepared when the summer train arrives to take you on board for new adventures...Don’t you think?Good luck from Kristina.
Quote from: kristina on December 07, 2010, 01:06:02 AM“Wait to catch the summer train”... what a beautiful poetical thought....Now you have had your transplant... you have started to study again...You certainly have put “everything in its place” to be ready and prepared when the summer train arrives to take you on board for new adventures...Don’t you think?Good luck from Kristina.It did seem like poetry. I'm ready, yes, but I'm hoping the train doesn't leave the station for a long time!
Shakespeare speaks of seven ages, whereas dream-analysis mentions only four...
We both can't stand open-coffin funerals where everyone keeps saying, "She looks so good!" No, she looks dead, with make-up on, idiot.
It's been several years since I've been to a funeral, but every one that I've been to has been open casket. Maybe we need to make sure we're really burying the right person?
Now, in that place where birds cease to singand paths grow faint and melt into the hillsYou pause - tasting the wind; for it is springand down in Ellendale's wide water spillsA dust of petals.For in this last September opening your hands to receive the golden light(your hands which friends and animals rememberand trees and children) You will enter night.I am no more the child who made you cryso readily with your ballad-talesNot skilled to soothe the life that prays to die.Not skilled to pray. But must since all else failsTrust that the Lord who owes you some amendgrant you a quiet night and a perfect end.