Death Called We Spoke

Sunrise April 11, 2011

It’s been a year since I nearly died.

So close, the doctor told me later, that a few more hours without medical attention and I would have been gone.

But, I didn’t go.

Death beckoned.  Made very appealing offers: peacefulness, freedom from pain, and shedding my sick physical body.  It was tempting, the lightness, the cessation of incredible pain, the floating free. 

I remember the Chief of Emergency shouting into my face, “You, my dear, are a medical emergency.  Stay awake.  Stay with us.”  I remember thinking, “Please, let me sleep.  Don’t yell.  Please, just let me rest.  Let me leave this pain and this heaviness and this fever.  Please…”

I’m still here a year later, reflecting on what I’ve learned from this extended illness, the stabilization period, the serious surgery and the oh, so slow, struggle through recovery.  Death altered my life.

Averting an abrupt end intensified the brevity and the fragility of my life and the necessity of doing what I want now, not next week, not next month, not next year.  Now…now…now.

I could create a list of what I want to do before I die permanently; feels like a gigantic “To Do” list, almost task-like, useless.  Now, I am simply living each day as it comes.  I am more patient, less angry, more loving and less judgemental.

Now, I write every day, and we bought a used Harley.  Strange combination of lifestyle changes?  Gary accompanied me through this experience; we are both acutely aware of the evanescence of our lives and of the fleetness of time for doing what we most desire.

I write; he rides.  When I buy a helmet, we’ll both ride and I’ll still write every day.

Not to say that one shouldn’t look ahead to the future and save and plan and prepare; but what good is that if one never gets to the future?  I’m simply saying that I’m grateful to be alive now and am living more and more in the present moment.

Death called.  We spoke.  I declined.

I’ll keep you posted.