Early in my fifties (the picture is from my fiftieth birthday party) I noticed that more and more people who formed my life were dying. Each leaving a hole in my life. Almost desperately, I clung to the old saw that 'you are only as old as you feel'. I certainly didn't feel old! I danced, I drank, I burned my candle at both ends, and I worked - oh, lord, I worked. There was always a reserve of energy to be called upon, perhaps pulling it from deeper than before, but still sufficient.

Then it started ... first there were five years of eye operations, from which I emerged blind in one eye. Being half-blind was no big deal. If I had to be handicapped, that would be my choice. Perhaps the hardest blow to bear was a skiing accident in which I wrecked my left knee. I would "get over it" - I was certain!... I didn't.

By the time I reached my late fifties, my life had changed ... little by little. More deaths surrounded me, each another rent in the fabric of my life. Physically, I became a hesitant person ... no longer striding forth in my race through life, but half-groping, uncertain of sight and step.

In 1989, I had the chance to retire as a part of a major layoff. I counted my pennies and my strength. If I got a used RV and gathered my self-confidence enough, I could retire and hit the road. Or I could struggle through the next three years and hope I would still be able to do it. You can follow my travels elsewhere in this effort...see...Rolling

Now I am seventy years old. No longer can I pretend I am 'as young as I feel' for I FEEL old. Each morning is an inventory of how much will the arthritis bind me this day ? How much energy can I muster and how shall I use it? Will I trip and fall again today? Which of the dead will tug at my memory? Will some vagary of Fate cost me my independence this day? Does this all sound ever too morbid and depressing? Gird your loins and read on! So many others have much greater physical problems that mine are immaterial. (Except to me, of course :)

This day, and every day, life is all the more precious because of these very manifestations of age! I come to the computer and my life is touched by the people with whom I share my life. Emotions explode and fill me. I am free in cyberspace! I can 'dance' around the room, I can giggle and cavort, I can love and be loved, I can touch the lives of friends from all over the world. And, my dear friends, if you ever get into that old mode of self-doubt of your value - think about this. YOU give substance to my life. You help me crawl out of bed in the morning, for I can look forward to seeing you this day. It is your sharing of yourself with me that helps me face the hard times. When I tire, it is your support and caring that turns me back to life with a smile.

I move slowly enough now in real life that I can savor each of the beauties of my day: the stars, the birds, the sun, the wind. Age has given us these gifts to make up for what we have lost.

And Death sits beside me even so. Death is my friend ... the release from pain, if the quality of my life should become unbearable to me. I am in no hurry to embrace him, yet it is comforting to know he is there. When it is my time, I will take his hand, and walk into that which no one knows with an accepting heart, eager to find what, if anything, lies beyond.

In early April, 1999, Death came and sat beside me, inviting me to cross over from life to death. Unbeknownst to me, I had Diabetes and was at a critical point with very high blood sugar. After a night in and out of consciousness, I sat down in my easy chair to watch TV, not aware that I was critically ill. I was unable to make the channels coincide with the cable and get a station. Had I managed to find a clear station, I believe I would have stayed right there and passed away that day. Reflecting on the experience now, I find myself not as willing to waltz off hand in hand with Death. Something in me wanted to live, or I would not have called a friend to take me to the ER. If I didn't care if I lived, I would not be taking insulin and restricting my diet to control the Diabetes. I plan on pondering this for awhile more and perhaps amending my attitude somewhat.

Death snuggled a little closer recently. In early November I started bleeding and went to the doctor. A try for a biopsy from my uterus was unsuccessful and I was scheduled for a D&C. Unfortunately the clinics I go to were cut severly recently and I could not get into the day surgery until February 21,2000. The doctors seemed quite casual about it all and seemed to feel it was probably polyps causing the bleeding. Of course, I had gone to the internet to explore my situation. There I found information which indicated I was at high risk for endometrial cancer. After the D&C I called and the doctor said she "didn't think" the tests has shown anything significant. So I went in for my check up the 15th of March. She started asking me routine questions and I blew my stack. I had been waiting since November to find out if I had cancer or not, and needed to know NOW! She finally informed me that I have a Grade I cancer of the endometrius ... with her usual casualness she said a hysterectomy should cear it up. GOOD GRIEF ... "SHOULD clear it up??????" Now there was a big hurry to get the hysterectomy done. It is scheduled for April 12th.
Needless to say, I am terrified. I have no faith in the doctors and their casual approach. I cannot even bear to think about possibly having it spread within me like an evil tide of death.

The hysterectomy was finally done April 12, 2000. The cancer was totally within the uterus, so I have every hope that the cancer was all removed. It is a slow recovery for a woman my age with diabetes, but it is progressing. And there are times when I again can look to the day with joy in my heart and gratitude for my friends and family who supported me through this trial.

I miss you, all my loved ones...

Page 4-Speaking of Dying

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