Blog #236--Letting go

I was always encouraged to do my best at all times, and to finish what I started. This made sense to me, and it has served me well throughout my life. I believe in it so much, that even when I am playing a game of hearts on my computer, and I can see I have no chance to win, I still play my best until the end. However, I am now beginning to realize I must eventually do the exact opposite.

I have a number of health issues that are becoming increasingly severe. My mind and body are continuing to put up a good fight, but I realize it is a losing battle. Most of us would continue to battle for survival, hoping for a cure or to somehow overcome the inevitability of death. But a couple examples close to me have shown me the futility of that effort.

My grandmother was a strong pioneer woman who rarely experienced illness. She told me that, when she was young, her mother would cook up a special concoction for any of her children who were too sick to go to school that day. My grandmother never became that ill, so she never enjoyed the special reward. She was happy to be healthy, but she felt she missed something.

She lived to be 94 years old. Other than a fall that initiated a vicious cycle leading to an infection, an extremely high fever and near-death experience, plus hip surgery at the age of 87 and later a fractured shoulder sustained falling from her nursing home bed, she maintained her health quite well. Of course, the infirmities of age finally caught up with her, forcing her to use a wheelchair and making her unable to speak clearly.

One day, she developed gangrene in one leg while already comatose. I’ve spoken about this situation previously, but as a reminder, doctors tried to intimidate me into letting them amputate her leg. I declined because she hated doctors and hospitals. I felt she would be best off allowed to pass on while at the nursing home since the doctors said she would never regain consciousness whether they performed surgery or not.

I didn’t think she would survive more than a few days, but she hung on for over a month. Her body was still so strong, death seemed unable to overtake her. But this was a time where she would have been better off letting go and “giving up the ghost.” Her survival instincts had to be overcome, and that was no easy task. She eventually had no choice, but the lengthy delay wasn’t ideal for her, her family or the nursing home. It was her destiny, but it was a painful conclusion to a great life.

As another example, my favorite cat Tory was a dominant male. He was tough to live with at times because of his demanding nature, but he also taught me a great deal about myself and life. Tory had strong instincts and was never sick. That is, until he was 15 and old age took its toll on him. He likely had some type of cancer, but I didn’t wish to subject him to diagnostic tests despite being a veterinarian. I just wanted him to pass while at home; I couldn’t even make myself consider euthanasia even though I would have recommended that for others. I was being irrational, but I believe it was his wish to continue his battle for survival.

He eventually succumbed to his illness, but not before he suffered a great deal. Like my grandmother, Tory was almost too good at survival to reverse course and allow a passing of his spirit from his body easily. He had to experience being forced into submission, something he was not accustomed to doing.

Now I am in a similar situation. My body is falling apart, but my mind’s bottom line is to fight for survival. I look forward to passing since I know we live forever. But that doesn’t mean I will be able to make the transition easily. Each of us has an instinct for survival and an instinct for dying. I suppose those that commit suicide have an abundance of the latter perspective. But my body and mind are equipped with a strong will to live, forcing a longer and more painful demise than some others might experience in a similar situation. The fact I have already lived more than 2 years past the time doctors said I would die helps demonstrate that.

I guess I will continue to fight for my survival until I can finally pass. This came into sharp focus a couple days before writing this article, when I came down with a mild cold. Colds were bothersome but never life threatening, until now. My severe emphysema was survivable with medicines and oxygen before the cold, but I am now experiencing increasing difficulty walking from room to room in my home. When I went to the front door to pick up a delivery, I thought I would run out of breath entirely.

But even then, I found myself hoping to overcome my panting so I could experience a little more of life. I know most people would support those fighting to live, but little by little I am beginning to realize a need to do the exact opposite. I don’t have any control over that, but that is what will happen when the transition takes place. Even my evangelical sister-in-law says that God has programmed each of us with the exact moment of our deaths, even though she doesn’t believe in destiny.

I do believe in destiny. When it is my time to go, I will be able to let go. And when it happens, I will be able to accept it as a better alternative than continuing to suffer in a body with a limited warranty. It would be nice to simply die one day without enduring suffering beforehand, but that happens infrequently. Most of us need the suffering to accept our demise and let go of that which we have always held dear during our lives on Earth. It is simply part of the process.

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