Facing Mortality
I may be wrong--nothing is ever certain in life except death--but I believe I now know how I will die. It will be a stroke. All of my symptoms point to eventual and fatal stroke.
When I realized this I am ashamed to admit that I panicked. Of course I do not want to die. As much as I complain about aspects of it, I like my life. I might wish some aspects were different, but that wish is not enough to give me incentive to change it, for it is a good life taken all in all. That is perhaps a hallmark of a kernel of wisdom: to take things in their entirety rather than focusing on one piece or another to the exclusion of the big picture.
My panic, which is really my fear, was in wanting this cup of death by stroke to pass from me. I want a quick, painless death with no lingering. I recognize my father's dislike of process in that. He just wanted to be dead once the inevitability was upon him. I too prefer reaching the end result to the process of getting there. But whatever it is, I will undergo the process. I have no choice. Each of our death's is ours alone, just as each of our lives are ours alone.
I have long held that death is not only inevitable, it is unavoidable. We can take treatments, have preventative surgery, eat healthier, exercise more, avoid those vices that shorten life all without changing a whit the date of our deaths. This not how our culture sees things. My culture tells me that I can stave off death by eating right, exercising, avoiding smoking and excessive drinking, and having regular medical checkups. I do all these things (okay well maybe not smoking) and yet my weight continues to climb slowly, my blood pressure requires medication to regulate it, and I have other conditions besides. I'm able to maintain myself comfortably, but I'm not able to reverse the effects of sleep apnea. That will lead eventually to a stroke, and that will kill me. I can do all the good things I do, and yet I cannot arrest the decline that continues to occur.
I am sad to realize this. I am sad to realize that I probably won't enjoy those ten years of happy, active retirement I have looked forward to. I remain determined to enjoy today as if it is the last day of my life because it may well be. It is not given to a mere mortal to know the hour of his death.
And now I'll go walk my dogs.
When I realized this I am ashamed to admit that I panicked. Of course I do not want to die. As much as I complain about aspects of it, I like my life. I might wish some aspects were different, but that wish is not enough to give me incentive to change it, for it is a good life taken all in all. That is perhaps a hallmark of a kernel of wisdom: to take things in their entirety rather than focusing on one piece or another to the exclusion of the big picture.
My panic, which is really my fear, was in wanting this cup of death by stroke to pass from me. I want a quick, painless death with no lingering. I recognize my father's dislike of process in that. He just wanted to be dead once the inevitability was upon him. I too prefer reaching the end result to the process of getting there. But whatever it is, I will undergo the process. I have no choice. Each of our death's is ours alone, just as each of our lives are ours alone.
I have long held that death is not only inevitable, it is unavoidable. We can take treatments, have preventative surgery, eat healthier, exercise more, avoid those vices that shorten life all without changing a whit the date of our deaths. This not how our culture sees things. My culture tells me that I can stave off death by eating right, exercising, avoiding smoking and excessive drinking, and having regular medical checkups. I do all these things (okay well maybe not smoking) and yet my weight continues to climb slowly, my blood pressure requires medication to regulate it, and I have other conditions besides. I'm able to maintain myself comfortably, but I'm not able to reverse the effects of sleep apnea. That will lead eventually to a stroke, and that will kill me. I can do all the good things I do, and yet I cannot arrest the decline that continues to occur.
I am sad to realize this. I am sad to realize that I probably won't enjoy those ten years of happy, active retirement I have looked forward to. I remain determined to enjoy today as if it is the last day of my life because it may well be. It is not given to a mere mortal to know the hour of his death.
And now I'll go walk my dogs.
posted by Tom | 9:33 AM
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