When My Time Comes

 A few days before leaving for Nashville I started reading a book titled: "When My Time Comes - Conversations About Whether Those Who Are Dying Should Have the Right to Determine When Life Should End."

An odd choice perhaps; maybe not. 

It is a sobering read. I was part way throught the book when I left for Nashville; I finished it on Wednesday after my return.

So I was immersed in a conversation about the right to die with dignity, then I flew headlong into the ultimate high that is Nashville, then I came home and wrapped up the right to die book.

The book made me uncomfortable, Nashville cleansed my soul, the book made me uncomfortable.

This fits the routine I have established for this vacation. I am changing my routines (especially this week, now that The End Is Near). Without taking a nuclear approach, I am changing routines, re-establishing habits that previously made me feel good about myself, and addressing head-on "things that need to be done."

The book is educational - it addressed the topic from all sides. Pros and cons, supporters and dissenters, religious, medical, academic etc. It also forced me to think about things I don't want to think about.

Although I have been thinking hard lately about the fact that I am 67, that I have prostate cancer and that I am unhappy with my life. To be more specific - I am going to die, and it would be stupid to die in bitter regret.

Nashville provided perfect perspective for all this. I was so happy, had so much fun, immersed myself in a history that means something to me, and escaped my life for 4 days. It was like pressure washing the poison from my soul.

Now that I am home I am working to think happy. I love being here, love being with Carol and the cats, but I typically ruin my free time with worry and regret - which is stupid and a waste of my very precious time.

When my thoughts get dark I think "Knock it off, idiot - you are on vacation." Sometimes I win, sometimes I lose. But I am aware; I am trying. I refuse to fall back on hopelessness.

The most important thing is that when I go back to work next Thursday I am not suicidal. There has to be a change in me and some hope to fuel that change.

Even if it is only a change in thought process.

That alone will be a pretty big step forward considering the tendrils of poison that currently thread through my brain.