contemplative mood
So yesterday was R's funeral. I wasn't a close friend, I didn't go to the funeral -- showing up at the wake and buying a Mass card will suffice.
But I can't help thinking that R was far too young to die. She was just two weeks shy of her 66th birthday.
She had a massive heart attack. Everyone was sad, but no one was shocked. They said she hadn't looked healthy for months. She was a diabetic who didn't follow the regimen, didn't eat right, didn't take her medications as directed.
On the heels of R's wake comes the news that L is back in the hospital.
L is the friend I've mentioned before, she has serious health issues and has spent the better part of the last 9 months in treatment for diabetes-related conditions.
L is also 66 years old.
66. A mere 10 years older than I am.
And so I find myself feeling sorry for R's family on their loss, and feeling terrible about the situation L finds herself in.
But there's also a part of me learning a life lesson from all of this. Because yes, as much as we care about others as they deal with illness and death, in the end we are all self-centered, all concerned about ourselves.
My health has taken a beating these last 12 years: cancer, gallbladder, anemia, high blood pressure.
Where will I be in 10 years?
I'm optimistic. I've lost a considerable amount of weight, I'm no longer taking blood pressure medication. I go to the gym and to yoga. I feel better, more energetic than I have in years.
My doctor is happy. I am happy.
I hope I can keep this going.
But I can't help thinking that R was far too young to die. She was just two weeks shy of her 66th birthday.
She had a massive heart attack. Everyone was sad, but no one was shocked. They said she hadn't looked healthy for months. She was a diabetic who didn't follow the regimen, didn't eat right, didn't take her medications as directed.
On the heels of R's wake comes the news that L is back in the hospital.
L is the friend I've mentioned before, she has serious health issues and has spent the better part of the last 9 months in treatment for diabetes-related conditions.
L is also 66 years old.
66. A mere 10 years older than I am.
And so I find myself feeling sorry for R's family on their loss, and feeling terrible about the situation L finds herself in.
But there's also a part of me learning a life lesson from all of this. Because yes, as much as we care about others as they deal with illness and death, in the end we are all self-centered, all concerned about ourselves.
My health has taken a beating these last 12 years: cancer, gallbladder, anemia, high blood pressure.
Where will I be in 10 years?
I'm optimistic. I've lost a considerable amount of weight, I'm no longer taking blood pressure medication. I go to the gym and to yoga. I feel better, more energetic than I have in years.
My doctor is happy. I am happy.
I hope I can keep this going.
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