On April 1st earlier this year, my body began to change. Lethargy had set in. I had no desire to eat. My lymphatic system was acting strange, as though it didn’t know me. I didn’t feel exuberant about anything. As a matter of fact, I felt deflated, uninspired.
We couldn’t find anything wrong. My lungs, my heart, all fine.
Then after many months of endless scans and tests and a recent 9 day stay in the intensive care unit, (I began throwing up blood) I was given my diagnosis on September 3nd. I have terminal end stage liver failure. I have about 6 months to a year and a half of survival. With the condition of my other organs, it’s quite possible I can get a little more time.
I have been in bed a lot. I’m far too weak to walk on my own, so I use a cane or a walker to get to the bathroom. My abdomen is distended, my eyes have jaundiced, and I’m on so many pills that it feels like I’m back in the hospital. I haven’t had much time to process everything for myself, but asked the hospital chaplain if he would pray for my friends. I am going to need them to be strong for me….and some are handling this better than others.
I am coming to terms with the mistakes I’ve made in the past, but here in the present it seems the most dangerous thing I can do is pretend that nothing is happening, shielding others from the human inevitability: mortality coming quickly, coming suddenly, without much warning.
I promise to write as much as I can for as long as I can, but the pages of this blog will soon wind down to an end. I want to spend the last of my time experiencing the transition into non-physical….once again.
So, in the middle of this mighty silent Sunday, I wanted to reach out and let you know what was happening, what I wish would happen, and what I hope to find when the horizon is met with the loving glow of God.
I love you all and hope to hear from you.
