Death Is My Constant Companion
by Sarah
Death is my constant companion.
It rides with me in the car and ponders if it will be the last one I own.
It sits quietly at breakfast with me.
It makes me start to measure time in new ways such as what will expire first, me or this bottle of Tylenol.
It makes me cry at times but not for very long and usually not enough to even work up a proper tear.
It shows me the stunning sunset and then the pop of the stars; the vastness and elegance of the universe and the minuscule part I get to play in it.
It helps me see the humor within and through the pain.
It forces me to accept help although not always graciously.
It hovers over me and waits for me to open my eyes every morning to greet my consciousness right away.
It helps me appreciate the resilience of the other folks in PT…the ones that look like they REALLY have something wrong with them.
It amplifies the beauty of my loved ones and their actions.
It goads me into taunting the gang of squirrels that run my yard. Yes, this is Death’s doing, too. Don’t question me!
It makes me wonder which will run out first, my life or my money.
It shows me the strength of those that are physically weak, that move slowly, painfully but keep going until that is no longer an option.
It pokes me with every limp.
It shows me that sometimes letting go is the best option, the only option.
It makes me appreciate the moments with less pain.
It shows me the value of a bike ride with an open sky and pleasant temps. Then it shows me the merit of a tumultuous sky, an impending storm which I race to shelter.
It makes me want to live more than I die, every day.
It helps me tolerate even less bullshit.
It helps me prioritize everything even when I don’t want to. Especially when I don’t want to.
It wears me out.
It forces me to think about legalities and who will take care of them when I’m gone.
It amplifies my concerns for my family.
It makes me think about giving my stuff away.
It encourages me to ponder what I can do other than simply survive for a while.
It makes me think about how I can be of value to others.
It helps me swear more. Probably at a greater volume, too.
It reinforces that all form is temporary.
It cranks the honesty to 11. Deafening and at times, painful.
It provides a freedom of words and actions that is unrivaled.
It spreads and permeates the waiting room at the cancer center. “Hospice, Line 1.”
It makes me want to kick the complainers in the teeth.
It tells me to get after the PT folks; that we need to amp this up, not just rid me of this limp but make me as strong as possible for as long as possible. Let’s GO.
It reinforces that no one knows how many days they’ll have.
It magnifies the ridiculousness of what we fret about and on what we spend our money.
It hides in the mailbox in the form of caring cards and medical bills.
It beckons my friends to mow my lawn since it has removed my ability.
It encourages some to check in on me.
It scares some away.
It makes me laugh out loud at the visibly uptight people in the grocery store.
It goes with me to parties.
It sits close while I laugh.
It snuggles in when the mood is light.
It never leaves me.
It never will.
sarahsbeingfrank 
Beautiful…and heart-wrenching.
Thank you, Judy.
Hmmm – pondering everything you say in this and obviously, can’t truly understand what you are going through. All we can say is we love you, we are here for you. (AND – you haven’t missed your calling yet as I would say your writing should be published SOMEWHERE besides your blog!!!) 🙂
You are both constants in my life. Thank you.
You move to the big city and now all you have to chase are squirrels?? Remember when we could chase chickens in Altoona! I laugh just thinking about it. I felt like I was back on the farm! I miss having you as my neighbor, but I will stop by soon! Hope you had a good weekend and were able to go for a bike ride. Let me know if you need anything and I will see you soon.
I have to take what shows up, Carol. The raccoons and possums aren’t quite as fun-loving as the squirrels so I’ll stick with them….for now.
This is beautiful, Sarah.
Thank you, Julie.
Sarah – wonderfully written with a perspective deeper than I’ll be able to absorb. You’re a beautiful person with great talents. Thank you for sharing your inner most thoughts. Truly inspiring.
Thank you, Pete. Seeing your name come up made me smile. I appreciate your kind words. I hope our paths cross soon!
Sarah – beautiful writing to say the least. I don’t know you well, but I can only assume you are an incredibly strong person that has impacted the lives of many in a very positive way! As Pete said … truly inspiring.
Thank you, Kevin. I know that I’ve gained much by others sharing with me so my hope is that someone might be able to gain something good by me doing the same.
Love you girl.
Love you more!
I’ve made the mistake of reading this at my desk three times now..and each time I think it will be easier to read.. it isn’t…maybe next time I read it it will be, but I don’t think so.
Thank God I don’t have neighbors in the office this week.
I still can’t get through the damn thing without choking up! I always was a hard learner. Or what is it they say? When you keep repeating the same action but expect a different result? Oh yeah…. 🙂
Sarah
Heat breaking and beautiful all at the same time! What a brave and selfless thing to do. Way to much time has passed I hope our path with cross very soon!! Prayers for you my friend!!
Briggs! Thank you and hope we connect, soon. You’re right, too much time has passed.
Sarah – thanks for sharing your thoughts. So many with the dreaded “C” think so many of these things and you expressed them beautifully. I think of you and keep you in my daily prayers. Please please let me know what I can do to help you in any way. I am retiring in November so I’ll be a lot more available to do whatever you need done. Hang in there girlfriend. Sending love and hugs your way!!!
Thanks so much, Glenda.
F#&k Sarah!! What an inspiration you are. I didn’t find out about your last cancer until you were done with it and regretted not being in touch after moving away. I am glad I found your blogs. I read it all afternoon and trying not to cry. You are one brave lady! I used to be one of those people that didn’t know how to react to the “cancer” news. When my best friend had it in our twenties, I pretended it wasn’t happening. We never really talked about it even though I would go to the hospital with her when she got her radiation done. I wished I would also talk about the “negative” stuff too because after she was gone, someone else told me she was asking them the negative questions. So, if you ever feel the need, please shoot me an email or call me and I can handle it better now. Every time we get into Iowa, I’ll tell myself, “I need to meet up with Sarah and see how she is doing” but of course, same ol’ excuses, “I’m too swamped with catching up with the in-laws or spending time with the parents.” But this cancer thing will be my excuse to meet up with you when I’m in town next. For now, I don’t know what you are going through but it sounds like you are doing it right with humor and guilt trips! Milk it for all you can and I am sure no one will ever complain about it.
Lavanh! Yeah, F#&k gets muttered a lot. 🙂 Hopefully we get better at dealing, at coping, as we age, for ourselves and for our loved ones. I’ve had some experience and I still don’t know what to say or do at times. All we can do is figure out a way to do better going forward. Love you, miss you and yes, hope to see you next time you’re back!
Tried the 4th and 5th time.. same results…. yep, doing the same thing over and over and expecting a different result….although nobody would be surprised should I be deemed insane…
Rick, I’m touched that you’re re-reading this. Love that you’re my favorite type of insane, too. Miss you.