It’s been a good run. A long life lived, but now I find myself at the end of it. I was hoping that I’d make it into my nineties. That prospect is not looking good anymore. About a year ago, I began to get nauseous for no apparent reason. Soon the random nausea became intermixed with bouts of vomiting. Being a stubborn old man, like many of us are. I ignored it and ignored it. I would have kept ignoring it and just pushed through, but my better half made me a doctor appointment. She was more worried about it than I was. I tried to tell her that it was just what happened when you got old. Food doesn’t sit well anymore and you just have to find out what you can eat by trial and error. She wasn’t taking that as an excuse. So, at the doctor's office I found myself.
I filled out the paperwork and answered all of the nurses' questions. I peed in a cup, had multiple vials of blood drawn, and endured a rectal exam. The appointments went on for months. New tests were ordered and procedures conducted. The funnest part of it all was the prep for the colonoscopy. I needn’t say more about that. With each visit, the doctors had more and more questions. I didn’t think they would ever discover what was wrong with me, but eventually they did. A biopsy from my colon showed that I had colon cancer. The doctor tried their best to reassure my wife that more than likely they had caught it at stage one or two and the outcomes were usually good. This turned out not to be the case. When the lymph node biopsies returned I left the appointment holding my unconsolable wife. The twenty minute drive back to our house seemed to last an eternity.
I have stage four colon cancer. Eventually, my deterioration progressed quickly. Now I find myself at home, bedridden, and in hospice. A nurse and a caretaker visit a few times a week to issue meds, check my vitals, and clean me up. The days that they do not come my lovely wife takes care of me. She spends her free hours in a chair next to me. She reads to me and does her best to mask how she is really feeling, but I know. We’ve been together for over thirty years. I know everything about her. Even when she is trying to hide her emotions from me. I put on a brave face for her and hide the tremendous pain I am in. It wouldn’t do her any good if she knew the truth.
I’m close to death now. My time is spent between sleep and moments of clarity. I was scared at first when I knew that my time was approaching. The fear is now fading as I begin to experience death. Even as gradually as my death seems to come. I don’t think it's morphine or acceptance. It’s the experience of it all that now feels welcoming. My time now is spent between life and death. I find myself a little excited now. I’m beginning a new adventure. It reminds me of the movie, “The Hobbit” that Peter Jackson directed and Frodo Baggins exclaims, “I’m going on an adventure,” as he rushes to catch up to the dwarves. Just like Frodo I am resolute to go on my adventure.
There is something that we all feel that the experience of death can be compared to. Think of the early mornings when you wake up before the alarm and you have time to lay in bed drifting between sleep and awareness. The moments before death are like this. Drifting between consciousness and unconsciousness. It is sereen. Almost feels like I am floating, tucked in the warmth of blanket and sheet. There is peace and calm between life and death. Images of dreams come and go while drifting in the ether between worlds. I find myself traversing back and forth between the vail. On the side of the living I catch glimpses of my wife, her body snuggled against mine. While on the side of death, I make out loved ones who have passed before enveloped in bodies of light. In my final moment of awareness I say, “Do not fear. Love is waiting for me and I will be waiting for you.”
