At Death's Door- Shedding Light on How to Live

Kaiser Health News recently published a story about Ronni Bennett, a  popular blogger who writes about aging, a blog aptly entitled "Time Goes By- What its Really Like to Get Old."   The story highlight's Ms. Bennet's decision to write openly about living with her own recent terminal diagnosis.

At Death’s Door, Shedding Light On How To Live explores the impact of a terminal diagnosis on how one person decides to live the rest of her life and how she is coping with the diagnosis. Her blog posts are illuminating, poignant, and of course, heart wrenching.  She lists the things she no longer does, like regularly exercising, or finds concerning:

All kinds of things... fall away at just about the exact moment the doctor says, “there is no treatment” (which is their common expression for “you're terminal.)”At least, that is true for me and one of those things that fell away is any concern at all about what any person thinks about me in any regard. How others identify me is not my concern.

She continues in another post:

"I live in a different country now – the land of the terminally ill.  

 Isn't that a horrible phrase, “terminally ill.” It's too clinical, even industrial. It ignores the humanity of the life that will be extinguished and it sounds so imminent, as if I am already on the first bus out of here - a bus being driven, of course, by the grim reaper, hood in place and scythe in hand.

But that's not true of me. For awhile anyway, I've got some time. None of the doctors and nurses knows exactly how long in my case but, given some chemotherapy, six to eight months before symptoms begin to kick in has been mentioned.

Me? I take the prediction with some caution. The time could be shorter or it could be longer and since there is nothing I can do to affect the timing, the only rational choice for me is to carry on living.

Without, however, losing sight of the impending exit date. To ignore it would be absurd.

On the day I learned of my new status, some decisions came to me immediately. I've mentioned giving up the daily workout I've always despised, and now I get to eat all the ice cream and cheeses – my two favorite foods – as I want."

Bennet's posts have found positive responses from readers.  Still, the Kaiser article acknowledges that others may not prefer to share their lives with strangers:

"Other people may have very different perspectives as they take stock of their lives upon learning they have a terminal illness. Some may not want to share their innermost thoughts and feelings; others may do so willingly or if they feel other people really want to listen."

The blog is insightful and compelling.  

I have never before mentioned in this blog another of my favorites, The Blog, by Rory Feek.  Rory's blog, too, concerns life, and coping with a terminal illness, but more profoundly, it is about love.  My  wife and I were fans of husband and wife country music artists Joey and Rory Feek from the first time we watched them on the CMT talent show "Can You Duet."  We have purchased every CD, and I have combed over every line of prose and poetry germinated and nurtured by their love- love of life, love for each other, love for their children, love for their family and friends, and love of God.  Like millions we wept when Joey lost her battle with cervical  cancer. 

My eyes still well with tears when I see the song, "When I'm Gone," in my playlist, and am reminded of Rory's testimony of the song's impact on his life in the blog post entitled, aptly, "when I'm gone:"  

Our ‘make-believe‘ song and video seems to be coming true.
Some call it ‘life imitating art’.  I don’t.
I call it God.
He knew I would need her to tell me goodbye… not just once, but a thousand times.  And I’d need to know that no matter how much time passes, that she loves me still.  And He made it so that if I needed to be reminded of her beautiful life and heart and voice… she would only be a ‘click’ away.

While there are likely no words uttered from human lips, or written by human hands, that can guide entirely any individual in his or her own meeting with mortality, it is both comforting and inspiring that others share their insights and wisdom.  The rest of the great mystery is perhaps the province of the divine.