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Charlie Brown & Snoopy always maintained that happiness was a warm puppy, so I had to wrap mine up in a blankie after she went out to get the paper in the gorgeously clear 40° sunshine this morning. About an hour and a half later, she's still there, quite content.
Now onto my big question. This is going to take some setting up and backstory, so bear with me for a while here.
Part one - about a month or so back (definitely after Christmas, so mid-Jan, tops) there was a story on the news about a local girl who had cancer as well as several other disabilities and had had her wheelchair stolen when her mother's car was stolen. The story centered on how the loss of the chair was more than just the loss of her mobility - it was the loss if her freedom to go places with her mother and be out of the house. I can't remember how old she was - I'm thinking maybe 11 or 13 or somewhere in there - but I remember how she looked and sounded in the piece.
That is the important part. She looked and sounded as "well" as any person with multiple disabilities, but she was alert, and seemed "fine," for lack of a better word, wanting to get her wheels back so she could go out places with her mom. Totally fine.
Now, of course, within a day or two, a kind person in the community gave her a new set of wheels, a chair better and nicer than the one she'd lost, but that's not really germane.
The important part of this story is that there was another follow-up story about her on the news this week. She DIED. Died!
A month or two ago, she looked totally fine and now she's gone.
Part two - On January 21, a friend emailed me on Facebook letting me know that her father had also been diagnosed with stage IV cancer, just like me. (I don't know what kind though) By February 5, her Facebook wall was covered in condolence messages. He passed away within two weeks of getting a diagnosis. Two weeks.
By now, I'm quite sure you all know that I write this blog very candidly, and talk about big icky subjects like death very candidly. That's not to imply any disrespect to anyone or lack of empathy; it's simply the way I have to talk about these things, because they are so close to my own life.
So, can you see where this is going?
My big question is, How do you know you're dying?
Seriously. If it can happen so quickly (I'm really talking about cancer patients specifically here), relative to feeling "fine," then how do you know? What does it feel like? Do you experience some sort of very obvious change or symptom or feeling that tells you, "Ok, this is it?"
These are things I need to know!
I always figured it would be something pretty gradual (obvious, but gradual; and again, talking about cancer) where you'd start to decline, and then you'd know that it was time to start writing all those letters, giving some stuff away, paying your way into the Neptune Society - you know, getting your affairs in order.
Of course, I'm well aware that any of us could be hit by a beer truck or a piece of green ice falling from a 747 at any moment, and that would be that, over and done, but I really did think cancer was different.
And, of course, I'm well aware that I'm not going to get an answer to this question; or at least not one that I like. But this is what's on my mind right now - wondering if I should start writing those letters. Just in case.
