The right word spoken to you can be like honey:  It soothes the throat right away.  Bless the people who have the wisdom to utter to you just the right words at the right time.

I walked into his office flustered, stating “My wife is driving me crazy”!  And my doctor immediately retorted, “Isn’t that what all wives do?”  I felt like he gave me back my life.  I was not that unusual.

I have been dealing with depression after meeting with my nephrologist several weeks ago.  I mentioned that to the other doctor and he said, “That seems perfectly normal considering the life changes the other doctor was contemplating you undergoing.”

I felt better after his statement.  It did not take away my depression but at least I felt it was normal being depressed under those circumstances.  And I just had to work through it.

That is why it is so important not to isolate yourself.  When you talk to others outside the home you often find out other people are experiencing the same thing or what you are going through is perfectly normal.

You never find out those things out if you stay in your house and do not talk to others.  An apt word spoken just at the right time can soothe your fears which often run wild if kept to themselves.

Remember, ‘No man is an island’.  These words of John Donne have calmed many a person when they decided to stop isolating themselves.  It is amazing how many times the right advice can soothe yours fears that have run wild in the confines of your home.

We are really wired to be social “animals” and have much more in common with one another than we realize but we have to take a chance and reach out to others.  Then we find that out.  It is not necessary to do it alone.

Time is the most precious thing you possess.  All of a sudden, money does not mean anything when you realize your time is running out.

This realization has become sharper to me:  I may not make it to my seventieth birthday.  I am trying to work through my depression that descended after my last visit with my nephrologist.  The report was not good.

I did some research and found out the mortality rate of people put on dialysis was depressing:  over twenty per cent die the first year and over two thirds in a five year period.

I could be facing my end.  Material things did not matter much any more.  Time can not be bought.  It is the most precious thing you possess.  This was all brought to the forefront.  And I did not want to waste it.

Why can’t people talk openly about death?  It is a mystery but so what.  Death claims us all.  The mortality rate is 100 per cent but no one wants to talk about it.

We act as if it is a curse.  When death occurs in a hospital, patients are just whisked away as if they were never there.  No one wants to die alone.  Dying has become very impersonal.  Thus the hospice movement.

All this is running through my mind when my kidney function worsened and my nephrologist said she might put in motion dialysis and I found out only one third of patients on dialysis survived five years and another said 20 per cent died the first year.

All of a sudden it looked as if I will never see seventy–much less the age my parents died (my Mom was eighty and my Dad was ninety).  I am sixty-one.

It has been three weeks since my last visit with my nephrologist and I was depressed.  I needed to talk about my condition but it was not so easy.  People do not talk openly about death except in passing at best.

I even had difficulty with those closest to me–my wife.  On one level we all know we are going to die but we act as if that is never going to happen.  I just asked for one thing:  I wanted to die with grace.  I just wanted to talk about it and there was no one.

The news from my nephrologist was not good:  within a year I might be undergoing dialysis.  One prognosis for patients undergoing dialysis is only a third survive beyond five years.  Your chances of developing heart problems and strokes are greatly increased, also.

If my prognosis is that bad, I am determined to use my remaining time as best as I can.  I am no longer going to spend my time on things that really do not matter.

My wife and I considered putting our affairs in order.  It is time to make a will.  No one knows for sure how long they will have on this earth.  One thing is for certain every person will die but no one wants to talk about it.  It is the final taboo.

I am going to reexamine my life and truly do only what matters to me.  I know now I do not have forever.  The handwriting is on the wall.

Death Is The Last Taboo

Author: siggy

I felt odd discussing my health situation:  I went to my nephrologist (a kidney doctor) for the second time.  The report of my condition was worst than I thought:  my kidney function was down to twenty per cent and my doctor in the next visit was going to discuss  putting me in dialysis.  It takes six to twelve months to put into motion.

I started to mull over what this meant.  A loss of my freedom.  I could not easily go away.  I had dreamed for forty years to travel to San Francisco maybe even by train (I loved train rides).  I would visit my sister whose house I had never seen and my brother-in-law who I have never met.  This would be almost impossible to do once I started dialysis.  I could at most go away for a day or two at a time.

I was reeling from this news.  I did not want to bear it alone.  Sharing it with others meant reminding them of their own mortality.  And death was the last taboo so I could not discuss my situation so easily with others.  I felt all alone.

Time all of a sudden became very valuable.  I did have a window.  I am going to take the trip that I dreamed to take for most of my life before I start my dialysis.  You only live once.

I was depressed today: I went to a nephrologist yesterday. My kidney function is worst than I thought–28 per cent function. There are some things in my control: I can restrict my salt intake, lower my cholesterol and keep an eye on my blood pressure. Anyway, I walked out of that office depressed and stayed there the next morning.

I have to make a conscious decision. Either God is in control of my life (or He isn’t). If He is, I have to do my part, then I can relax in his Arms. I have to remind myself God is always in control.

He will take care of me. My time is His time. It is not really up to me when He will take me to Heaven. I have to pray He will take care of me, He is always in control. No matter what happens. My time here is always short. Our lives are but a vapor. Maybe, if I can keep those ideas in mind and pray constantly, my depression will eventually lift. After all I belong to Him.