If I was writing a book or a newspaper article I'd be working with a deadline. Applying for a grant and filing taxes require living with deadlines. Carrying a mortgage for a home comes with a deadline. Life is full of deadlines.
So when a person is given a diagnosis of terminal illness with a prognosis of about 5 years left, is that not living with a deadline? I'm talking about living. Laugh, talk, sing, draw, paint, play is all life. That's what I want. More nerf games, more suppers, more giggling children, weddings, books, worship, movies and such make life what it is. Living and learning, right? It's a bit harder for me - I'm slow, uncoordinated and tired - but I want all of it. There are times when having CBD is all I think about. Wouldn't you think about being so dependent on others that you can't use the toilet alone? Or being unable to hold your grandchild or kiss your spouse? That's what I'm looking at. In the end I'm told it could be pneumonia that takes my life because I won't be able to cough. I can't help thinking about these things. As much as I try I can't forget that the doctors believe that's what is coming. I already can't play fiddle or anything else. Sometimes I can't sing either, because my swallow rhythm isn't quite right. How do I possibly forget that it's likely to get worse?
In the between times I want to find any little bits of joy that I possibly can. I want to work to meet that deadline and even push it ahead 20 years if I can. Only God knows my times for sure, though, and I'm good with that.
You have always been a good, no-nonsense communicator, Kim. I love that you're blogging. I love what you're saying. I love it!! And I love you all. Praying for bright, sparkley time ahead. Ruth P.
ReplyDeleteRuth............thank you.
DeleteHi Kim. As I read your words, I want to thank you for your honesty, transparency and courage. I see so much strength in your words. I cannot even imagine what you are facing and wonder how I would walk in your shoes, then none of us are ever sure of the time God has granted us, right? I guess it's easy to feel invincible because I am not ill. Something for all of us to think about, I suppose. It could be my turn tomorrow, right? So, thanks. Thanks for opening my eyes to that reality. For lending that courage to live without fear and live it fully. I am not even sure if it makes any sense. I hope to see you when you are back here. Over a cup of tea, maybe we can talk about our dreams, our hopes and our family. The ordinary things. xo
ReplyDeletewe will sit on the porch of the garden shed in the light of the setting sun, soak in the warmth and grow into friends
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