And so the metastases are in both legs, and my walk is now a shuffle...sideways, when I can, because it hurts less that way.
Not walking is not an option; we have a lot of dogs, and Barb works for a living. But, thank God (or, for the dyslexic, thank Dog), the guys seem to understand, and adapt their desire to run to my capabilities.
Nights are a rotisserie...lay on one side until the pain's beyond endurance, turn ninety degrees until I can't breathe, turn again to face the pain...you get it. Or, rather, I hope you don't get it. No-one should feel this, or see it.
The other night, particularly bad, and I felt for a moment or ten that I was falling...like the feeling you get when you're dozing off...
Except that I was falling up, and consciousness was becoming more, and not less, clear.
Is this what death is like? Have you heard, have you felt it, have you been told?
There was nothing of 'meeting Jesus in the air'; it wasn't a rapturous experience, but it wasn't a bad one either.
There was a sense of expectancy, but to be more specific than that would not be honest, so I'll leave it there.
Is death like falling upward,
piercing through the clouds above,
more like rocket than like bird,
rising on a flame of love?
Is death a leap that o'ertops
‘till one hits Heaven’s Gates,
the hang-time jump that never stops
and jumper graduates
from this earth, this mortal coil
unto transcendent plane
where’s ended fruitless strife and toil,
and all that doth remain
are the blessings we were given,
oft unseen while we were livin’?
Music from The Fifth Dimension, with Up, Up and Away (My Beautiful Balloon).