An update.

by unfinishedthinking

            It’s Thanksgiving weekend and I’m once again repeating myself:  No one has more to be thankful for than I do.  I have a fabulous family, a wonderful job and a life that’s filled with life. Despite the dire warnings from the nation’s medical elite, most of my days are good; many are even great, filled with meaningful interactions with the extraordinarily interesting people who surround me in life and online.

But I haven’t felt much like celebrating for the past couple of weeks.  After so many good months, I feel like I’m slipping.  Starting last spring I could feel the days getting better as they got longer.  The summer and fall were better than I ever could have wished for.  Now…not so much.

I should expect times like this.  After all, hospice is by design a time of gentle “slipping.”  Once again, my old feelings are intruding.  Once again, I’m not scared of death; I’m just frustrated—very frustrated—with feeling sickly.  I don’t want to make too much of that:  it’s still about discomfort and not pain. I’ve been spoiled by the good times.

Now I almost never get through a whole meal–even the tiny snacks I now think of as meals– without puking up some phlegm or having to go some place to lie down.  (It helps when I make ice cream a “side dish” to help melt the problem away.  Even knowing that, it’s hard to remember to put out the ice cream when we’re dishing out the main course.  I only remember it when I need it.  Stupid.)

Of course, this could just be a bad month. But I have to ask:  how many times can I pull off my “near death” experience?  Do I have any credibility left?  (As Jeff Goodby told me this week, “you’re just never going to f——die, are you?”  Well, that’s the plan, Jeff.)

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