Do you have your ducks in a row? Now there’s a question if I ever heard one. It was a bracingly cold slap in he face. It was a wake-up call that I didn’t want to heed. It was voiced by my therapist today. I have realized, in the back of my mind, that this disease can kill me. I’ve held the thought. I’ve looked at it. I’ve toyed with the thought, but there’s been so much else going on that it never really hit home until today. Part of me thought if I voiced the thought, I was being melodramatic. Or I’d be accused of being a drama queen. Or I’d have been accused of giving up already. Hell I don’t need other people to have these thoughts, make these accusations …. I do well enough on my own.
The reality of it all? I can die from this. I could also be hit by a bus tomorrow. Or I could go on living a full life. My choice? Don’t think it ever was, or ever will be my choice. So what about my ducks? Nope … no linear formations just yet … but I know it has to be done. Because … hey I could be hit by a bus of ducks any day now. So I guess I’ll be looking over my shoulder a little more. Then I’ll make a will, a living will, and a living power of attorney.
When I go …. wrap me up in a big red “blunt wrap” and throw me on the funeral pyre. Take my ashes and cast half in the water off of La Jolla, CA & the other half from a jetty on the beach in Long Branch, NJ into the Atlantic. In the background Bruce’s Independence Day will be playing. Hey … it’s better than being put in the ground to be worm food. Okay … a little too much information?
His best question today was, “If this disease was a metaphor, what would it be?” Now THAT is an intriguing question. I told him I’d have to get back to him on that one. That’s a question I’ll really have to ponder. I wonder if I’ll have enough time? ;)
Now where did I put those damn ducks ….