I write about my life and life itself seen through my eyes for who can write through the experiences of others if not their own?

Monday, April 12, 2010


“I can live to be 100 as long as my mind is working” I have heard some say.

I visited a friend who is on the final stretch of his terminal disease. A brain tumor that has paralyzed one of his sides and impaired some of his functions.

The visit was good.

He was alert as usual. We talked about past marathons, friends, visits. He remembered when he met me, we laughed at old parties and races. He didn’t miss a beat of our conversation. His mind is sharp. His body is failing.

I watched him converse from his wheelchair; the former runner, the marathoner. Aware of his surroundings, aware of his prognosis and his fate.

Much too aware.

It is easy for us visitors to talk to him as if it were any other day. After all, we go home when the visit ends.

Is it good for him to be aware that his days are final? Would it be more sympathetic to have his mind live in another land until the end?

I can only assume we negotiate with life and what it’s left of it until it’s over taking what we can and probably treasuring every moment left. We deal with what is and not what should be because we have no control over what it should be. And we have no control over what is.

We deal even when we are dealing with our own demise.