The Final Decision

Two months ago, I was still wondering whether I should proceed with dialysis. I really didn't know if I wanted to go through with it. For about a year, whenever a doctor would bring up the subject, I'd say that life is hard enough as it is without a partner, but I sure didn't want to face dialysis alone. The doctor would then press me, asking me what I planned to do. "I am expecting a miracle," I'd reply. "And if that doesn't happen, I'll just die."

Around this time, I had a heart-to-heart with Aaron and told him I really didn't want to do this, that perhaps I'd be better off dead. I saluted and said, "Ready for re-assignment, Sir!"

But then I realized that my re-assignment would be a return to the same assignment. I've lived with chronic illness all my life and damn if I'm going to leave this life and be plopped down in another life of illness! No way! This message came through with such certainty, like a lightening bolt from heaven.

I continue to see myself as healthy and vibrant and strong. I sure as hell would love to manifest this during this lifetime, but I will not be denied in the next because I wouldn't see things through to the end this time around.

I can come up with hundreds of reasons to go on living--everything from sunshine and birdsong to my son, creative ventures, and the hope-springs-eternal possibility of romance. Hundreds of reasons to continue with dialysis. But even if all of these were to vanish, I have my ace in the hole: the card that says, "You can't fold yet."