Everything is rusting away

I’m not afraid to die because I’ve already died once. It is rather unremarkable.

The author getting IVIG and not dead.

Think back ten years. Does it feel like just yesterday or does it feel like a lifetime ago? Your answer will likely depend on how old you are.

I have friends across every generation. I think most people with healthy friendships do, though I’m not claiming health. The only real issue is there are things I don’t get invited to, like music festivals in the woods that my younger friends attend or bingo tournaments that my older friends frequent. But there are enough friends closer to both sides of my age that I get invited to enough things.

Most of my friends who have died lately were in the ages I will become in the next decade than I was in the past. This is sobering and if I’m being honest like a good friend would be, it’s a bit panic-inducing.

I’m not afraid to die because I’ve already died once. One minute I was talking and laughing with the living and the next, I realized I had no choice and resigned to the sleep. There is that moment right before you know you’ll be dead where you’ll feel a limitless, indescribable calm. Just let go, fall like Seth in City of Angels.

Dying is more dramatic and terrifying for the living, but to die, that’s pretty easy to do. What most of us don’t want to do is the process of dying, the rusting away.

I had no process. One minute, I was in the IVIG center, chatting with the Friday regulars and the next, I realize I’m going to die and then… I’m dead. Obviously, the medical staff brought me back to life or I wouldn’t be writing this right now but I quit breathing, I had no pulse.

I’ll never forget the face of my oncology nurse when I opened my eyes. She was scared and nervous and relieved, then she got mad at me for dying on her watch. Her eyes welled up and she walked away because apparently a patient is not supposed to see his nurse cry.

I spend a fair amount of time dreading the unknown. I spend even more time dreading the predictable known. I pace, I eat, I walk the subdivision at the Devil’s Hour.

Every future event that can be predicted falls into two categories; those with hard deadlines and those without a deadline. I know I am going to die, but I don’t know when. I know my laptop and servers will cycle out of date, but I don’t know when. I know my car will break down, I know my fridge will quit running, though the latter is more certain than the former.

I know my dog will die, but I don’t know when. She’s got some nerve issues and frequently loses her balance. It happens more frequently lately.

Me and my dog, we’re no longer dying; we’re rusting away.