From Death’s Door…

I’ve always been the worst type of hypochondriac one could imagine. Considering how healthy I am and how rarely physical issues raise their ugly heads, you’d think I’d not ever worry about much at all. Perhaps it’s because I so love living that I am so fearful of being faced with not continuing to do so. When I’m not feeling right, I do not keep a clear head.

The cold and flu doesn’t budge me, and rarely do I utter a single complaint about occasional sneezing and coughing bugs. I’ve almost never taken a day off work and prefer to fight my way through illness with just a hearty constitution and fast healing rate. But when other things hurt that aren’t supposed to, I freak out. Simple heart palpitations turn into a terminal disease. Headaches morph into deadly tumors, unseen to medical specialists. And lately, severe lower intestinal discomfort was surely irrevocable cancer. They must have missed something…I’ve never felt this before…am I too young to be afflicted with *x*? I finally got the gumption to make an appointment with the world-renown NHS, and before going this morning, I woke up right before the alarm to an extremely clear and calm male voice speaking to me. It wasn’t a dream, but it didn’t really happen. It was something – a subconscious prod, or perhaps a fiat from beyond – saying the simple words:

“Even the beautiful things must die.”

The checkup and uncomfortable Inner Sanctum probing was quick and the prognosis good: most likely a simple viral infection. But that phrase kept repeating in my head on the walk over to the hospital down the rain-drenched avenues. Maybe it had nothing to do with my subconscious fear of dying through tragic illness. Maybe it was a simple truism that needs to be applied to other areas of my life, things that are sick in their own manner…once beautiful and necessary, and now terminally obsolete. Maybe it’s once again about letting go.

6 Responses to “From Death’s Door…”

  1. Anonymous Says:
    December 23rd, 2003 at 11:11 am

    thank goddess you're okay ~ (*

  2. ubernacht Says:
    December 23rd, 2003 at 2:22 pm

    “Even the beautiful things must die.”
    You are a beautiful, delicate flower that GOD can't wait to snatch up for himself.
    Being away from the love and care of those who love you most sometimes amplify my fears of dying alone.
    I hear Hagis is a good cold and flu remedy.
    Hang in there mr. D.

  3. FunkyPlaid Says:
    December 23rd, 2003 at 4:12 pm

    Re: “Even the beautiful things must die.”
    The "beautiful" that I was referring to, my little ravioli, is the 'beauty of being alive.' And the abrupt ending hovering surely right on the horizon. One way to be born; a million ways to die.
    If you come out to visit, we're going to have meats of endless varieties that you cannot even imagine. And you might even learn to like haggis. It's not actually that bad…if you're drunk. 🙂
    So nice to see you here in this forum!

  4. kratkrat Says:
    December 24th, 2003 at 7:33 pm

    The "beautiful" that I was referring to, my little ravioli, is the 'beauty of being alive.'
    Thanks for the clarification, because I do not think of anything relating to the lower intestines as beautiful.
    Glad the prognosis was good, and MERRY CHRISTMAS!!

  5. FunkyPlaid Says:
    December 26th, 2003 at 2:23 pm

    And to you, from myself, and my Sanctum.

  6. kittynitro Says:
    December 27th, 2003 at 1:23 pm

    Oh, geez. I had no idea- I hope you weren't sickies for Christmas. And I hope you're all better now. You would be a very beautiful thing to lose, indeed.

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