Back from hols!

Dear merciful heavens, I'm ready to plunge a knife into my beating heart as I am held captive at this "job" aka HELL.

Also, I think I possibly aspirated a small piece of a pepperoni stick, which will hopefully come out after a few rounds of hacking and coughing.  My eyes watered up like crazy when I got the piece jammed in my throat, although I don't know if I inhaled it or if it scraped it's way down my esophagus to my stomach.  I hope, I pray the latter.  If this blog isn't update any time soon, that is the reason.  I am dead.  Either from the plunged knife or the piece of pepperoni.

In the news today: 

Jack Layton, leader of the NDP party died after a long struggle with cancer.  Even though he vowed to be back in Parliament this coming September, any person involved in the medical field could see the truth of his condition in his gaunt and jaundiced appearance.  He was a stirring speaker and I wish he had fronted the Conservative party, but there you have it.  Life is always beginning and ending. 

And in other news:

My boyfriend lost Licorice's purple leash.  It was a nice light-weight nylon purple one that I had found during my move to this new apartment.  R.I.P.  Mr. Leash.  You will be missed.

That's all for now:)

Merry Christmas/Death Is All Around

The windows in the rooms here are huge. They give a beautiful view of the garden in the front and the street down which few cars drive on Christmas Day, the biggest holiday of the year.

Snow is falling down, sporadically, huge flakes circling and dancing in the sky, and the sun is shining brightly, clearly through the snow.

She sits upright in her chair with a mask on her face so she can breathe, looking out the window, and quietly meditating, waiting.

To me, it seems strange that she can sit so peacefully, waiting for death to come. Perhaps because she has known for a few days that her body is irreparably damaged, a war zone of cancer and pain, destruction just lurking.

(Listening to - Dying to Live Again [Hedley])

I imagine myself in that position, and think that I would be anxiously attempting to get up from that chair, walk the long, fluorescent lit halls, instead of sitting with acceptance. Anything to escape death or put it off, pretend it is not near.

Even with the security of faith that leads me to believe the future beyond death is beautiful, there is still this overwhelming and suffocating fear of what is beyond our world.

At The End Of It All

There is literally a sense of death hanging in the air, surrounding the nurses station and the main hall, as a patient in her mid-50s approaches the imminent end of her life. We speak in hushed tones, and the laughter from visitors seems indecent. There is a propriety, and a respect that permeates all we do. Although the medical staff is calloused by the repetition of death, a code exists, that requires us to behave a very specific way.

The young daughter who sleeps in the hospital room on a cot, the grieving husband, the trickling of family/visitors through the always open door lends to the closure, the ending of life as they know it. Even more unbelievable is attempting to wrap your mind around the fact that you will soon die.

You lay in bed, too weak and in pain to move, soaking in the faces of the family, people you love, knowing that in perhaps in the next minute, the next hour, that night, or the next day, you will draw your last breath. The waiting is probably the most agonizing thing, waiting for death to come, waiting for nothingness.

How do you do it? How do you face each hour knowing it could be your last?

What would you do with the time you have left? How would you make it?

How would you suppress the rising panic that you are leaving things undone?

How can you be sure that you will leave the people you love cared for?

You can see how death is meant to come with old age.
You are prepared, you have lived a full life, and you have matured and grown wise.
As the years past you prepare yourself (perhaps subconsciously to some extent) for death.
You prepare financially, emotionally, physically, and mentally.

But what happens when you're young, when three weeks ago you were up and walking about and now are confined to bed rest? What do you do when you aren't ready to leave this world?

This may be so cliched and overused but really, the only advice I can give about be prepared for your end is live your life fully! Don't regret not saying things you should have, not trying new things, not tasting life completely. Don't live your life afraid of making mistakes. Get out there and just be.

Do not fear death, but rather the unlived life.
-Tuck Everlasting.

*A Thought

Pippin: I didn't think it would end this way.
Gandalf: End? No, the journey doesn't end here. Death is just another path... One that we all must take. The grey rain-curtain of this world rolls back, and all turns to silver glass... And then you see it.
Pippin: What? Gandalf?... See what?
Gandalf: White shores... and beyond, a far green country under a swift sunrise.
Pippin: Well, that isn't so bad.
Gandalf: No... No it isn't.



A patient passed away on the floor today.
It's actually the first time a death has occurred while I've been on the ward.
I've come in after a death has happened, but not during.
A family member came up to me and through tears and a choked up voice said, "Someone needs to pronounce ... dead for the funeral home."
At first I sat there and couldn't really articulate words or think of what to say, so the first thing that came out of my mouth was unfortunately - "What?"
He was forced to repeat the request, and could barely manage to get the words out the second time around.
But a nurse overheard the second time around, and intervened mercifully.
I stamped up the death certificate and forms and carried it down to bed booking.
And every step I took, to the elevator, out of it, down a couple halls, takes my one step closer to death. Every second that passes, every breath I inhale and exhale delivers me nearer and nearer to that final destination point.
It's the inevitable end [and beginning] that we all must face.

So death isn't the closing of a book, it's the next chapter, it's the door into another life, it's the grey curtain that we pass through and emerge in another place.

And now...I feel as though I must run out and away, and experience every single thing that a human person can know. I must discover new lands and new peoples, I must breathe in life, and live it to the fullest extent possible. I must make every second count.

Publicity Skews Important Facts

Publicity skews important facts.

I'm consistently on an anti-publicity parade, mainly because of the unattainable ideals that society infringes into our minds and souls.

I have mentioned this before...that young women (and men) feel they must live up to this ideal, this model of perfection that graces magazine covers and screams sex appeal.

Here's another area of life that publicity has skewed, an area physically more important than superb models taunting us with their unreachable "perfection".

Breast cancer.

Look around you and you'll be surrounded and amazed with amount of pink items now available, etched and embossed with the pink ribbon, a symbol of breast cancer and the fight women are making for their lives.

Visit http://www.breastcancer.org/ and you'll understand exactly what I am pertaining to.
There is a huge push for awareness regarding breast cancer and women.
It is almost perceived as a demon, a beast threatening to cut down the lives of undeserving women.

Pink mugs, pen, permanent markers, scarves, hats, t-shirts, journals, day planners...the list continues. All in support of the fight against breast cancer.

Don't get me wrong, I am all for finding a cure for breast cancer, for cancer period. I do believe it is a positive thing, that the public is aware of self-examinations and mammograms to be vigilant for warning signs.

But let's talk CHD or CAD, also known as, Coronary Heart Disease or Coronary Artery Disease.

While breast cancer will take the lives of 1 in 25 women a year, CHD/CAD affects 1 in 3.
Those as astonishing statistics and odds.
More women since 1984 have died from CHD than men.
The combined amount of death statistics of women passing from CHD far surpasses the amount of women dying from cancer, by double the amount.

This is what the public does.
It often picks a noble cause and rides it until everyone is aware of the crusade they are mounting.

Meanwhile, other somewhat important issues, or rather, very important issues take the backseat.

Think about it, and live heart healthy.

Odds Are

If you live your life to the fullest, try everything that gets thrown your way, talk with a smile on your face that infiltrates your voice, and fear not what you cannot understand, odds are at the end of your life, you won't have any regrets.

Far too often I see people approaching their death bed, who has discontent etched on their faces, as if all their regrets, words they did not say, things they did not do, has physically affected them. They seem to be unable to die in peace.

I have already decided to never say no to things I don't understand, to talk with a smile in my voice, and to try things I've never tried before.

Cheers.