From the physical to the disembodied eternal...

The last month has sort of felt like someone had put a handful of chaos into a blender, set it on high and then dropped me into the middle of it. My health has been fine (I think), but I am at the one-year point of having the official end of my remission confirmed. As such, a lot of things have entered my mind. It doesn't help that the anniversary of my dear mother-in-law's passing also occurred smack in the middle of the month and that also conjured thoughts of not only my mortality, but also the mortality of those around me. 

This Saturday, I will be heading to Toledo for a Celebration of Life memorial gathering for my "transplant twin" Gina, who you may recall passed back in February. Her memory has remained alive inside me all these months because that's how I roll and that's probably how it goes with most "war buddies". So as the day approaches, the feeling becomes more and more present in my day-to-day functioning. 

Additionally, I've never been the one to entertain nonsense and I have gone from Dr. Bruce Banner to the Hulk a number of times this past month (or so) when nonsense and needless drama have inserted themselves into my life. I apologise if you've been on the receiving end of it, but seriously, make a note of this. 

This morning I received news that an online friend who is a caregiver to his husband had checked into a hospice in his area. Brian's husband, David, who also has Multiple Myleoma, is nearing the end of his fight. A little over a month ago, his doctors told him there was nothing more they could do for him and David and Brian were made to start the countdown clock. 

This also got me to thinking about how my life will end. If you haven't done this yourself, I don't recommend it. But it does give you good practice if you feel like torturing yourself and in the process, driving everyone else around you crazy because they have no idea what is going on inside you. 

Will I go quickly like my friends Rocki (whose phone number and e-mail address I've still not yet deleted from my contacts) and Gina (contact card also still present), or will I be admitted to the hospital and then hospice before I pass into eternity?

Maybe I've told this story before, but it bears telling again. When I was five years old, I laid down in the hallway of our little slab ranch in Mentor, Ohio. My mother discovered me staring past the ceiling in this really awkward place in our home. She asked what I was doing there. And like any typical five-year old I answered, "I'm thinking about the day I die." I jest about the "typical" part because if you have a five-year old who says this to you, you might want to have them checked out. 

Anyhow, my mother, being motherly, said, "You shouldn't do that." And quickly added, "That's not going to happen for a long, long time!"

She was right. 

So I responded, "I know. When I die, it's going to be in a hospital room. It doesn't look like now but maybe in the future. I think... it will be early on a rainy Sunday evening in October."

I vaguely remember this conversation, but my mother remembered it in great detail about 20 years ago and was still upset by it. I'm sorry, mom. 

So here we are. Modern times with fancy, sleek hospital equipment. Even before my diagnosis, I dreaded October. Most people like October, but I really, really dislike it. Once October goes, I am foolishly confident that I am in the clear for at least a good ten months. 

You heard it here first, kids! Again, make a note of this.

Place bets. Play the lottery by it. Benefit from my apparent vision of the future back in 1972.

At the end of the day (and I might mean that quite literally if my vision comes to pass), we will all be at that place where we complete our journey in this physical life and enter an unknown realm. As we are beings of energy, I believe that we do live on somehow, but whether or not we are conscious of this next part of life is still a big question mark. While you are here--right here on this planet--make the most of your time and do good for and with others. Enjoy what you love. None of us really knows when the clock will run out. And as one of my "cancer club" members said at last night's meeting, "The only ones who ever get to leave this planet alive are astronauts."