Friday, 15 November 2013

We Could Be Hit By A Bus Tomorrow

Since I started facing my own personal countdown clock and mused about the not insignificant question of "how long" I have left, my mom will quickly insert that nobody knows the real answer to this question and reminds me of the bus thing - not that I spend a lot of time walking in traffic lately. And it is true that not even my learned specialist nor my family doctor can give me a date with any particular accuracy. Everyone's journey through something like this is unique - our bodies hard-wired to react to things in their own sweet time -sending you the signals - the symptoms - like smoke rings circling in the sky - imparting information that you can try to ignore, but with tremendous difficulty. If I am outdoors and I find myself face to face with a crow in our yard - I'll wonder if it, like a vulture, is aware of my imminent demise. Is that the reason it is staring at me wih such intensity? For a controlling person, this lack of certainty is perhaps the hardest thing to take - though not nearly as frightening as the prospect of coming to the time when I may be totally dependent on other people to get around. All of the little routines in one's life that some stranger may somehow have a hand in - that more than anything else - is the thing I dread the most. But time will tell when or if that moment comes along - and its not telling - it's keeping its mouth shut. The music swells in the background - waiting for the climax of this adventure and all I can say for now is let the band play on.


  1. My response to the bus thing is that for people like us, it's like getting hit by the bus and then being dragged along . . .

    1. Oh Lisa...I so understand that feeling...scraping along the ground as I write this...:) xo