The Thought of Dying Scares Me to Death!

The title of this blog sums it up. I have had a near death experience and it was indescribable. I have prayed to die, many times, when I was lost in addiction and alcoholism. My experience with panic attacks put me in the hospital three times. All three incidents made me feel like I WAS dying. I have drank enough alcohol to be in a clinical coma with a 33% blood alcohol level and rolled my car end over end four times. I could have been killed or killed someone else.

 I have been with a loved one when they took their last breath. I have had dogs put down and had the undesirable power of their life or death in my hands. I know it's inevitable. I know I'm going to heaven. It is the physical part of the deal that kills me! The uncertainty of when it is going to happen is nerve wracking. I often wonder if I would be happier knowing when it was coming or get one last surprise at the end of my ride. I don't know which it will be. I don't have much say in the matter.

Death is a subject people just don't talk about. We talk about those who have passed after the fact. The topic of our own mortality rarely comes up unless we are faced with an accident or terminal illness. I think about it a lot. I won't say obsessively but being a wee bit of a hypochondriac makes the subject roll around in my head more than the average bear. When I pull a muscle in my back or my arm spasms I am instantly catapulted into "The end is near mentality." It may seem silly but I think we all ponder it sometimes and just don't let it out. When I go in for a teeth cleaning I say a prayer of confession and ask God to save a place for me in paradise. I know I'm an extreme case but I know we all do it at times.

When I was young I thought everyone lived to around 90 and then died in their sleep. Man, I wish that simple childish theory was the case. I thought I was indestructible climbing trees and doing goofy stunts. Broken arms came to mind but permanent exit was never really a consideration. When I turned 17 and started abusing alcohol and drugs I still thought I was Iron Man. Then I moved the number to 40. I thought that 40 years of fast living was enough for me and I would be ready to check out. God knows I was committing suicide slowly, an inch at a time from the substances I punished my mind and body with.

My grandfather died at 39 and my stepfather at 42. Based on genetics, I figured, and the skip a generation theory I was gonna be right on the money with my age of 40 cutoff. Most of my relatives died in their late 70's and older. When I was young that was like, a million. No problem! Now that I am 45 the definition of being old bar keeps sliding to the right. 50 is around the corner, 60 is still pretty young, 70 is getting up there, 80 is a decent life and by 90 I probably would think I was 12 again so that's not an issue.

I find it funny that I used to pump my fist and sing "Hope I die before I get old!" Now I carry a low dose aspirin in my pocket that I can chomp on if I have a grabber. I really do! I used to laugh at those chairs that take you to the second floor on a little rail. Now I see those commercials and think that would really be comfortable. The scooters! Oh, the scooters. To me that is like a go kart for old people. Even if I live into my 80's and am in great shape, I am still getting the scooter. I'm going to put a basket on the front to carry my stuff and put one of those long orange flags on the back like I used to have on my bike.

As I get more sober and see how much I have missed from the memory loss that accompanies substance abuse, it makes me want to live more and fear death even more. I want to see my grandkids and play the Ramones for them and teach them to play baseball. I want to retire and have the focus of my day be on whether I should make a pot pie or have some Raisin Bran. I want my biggest decision of the day to be choosing between reruns of "Sanford and Son" or "Rescue Me."

The bottom line is we don't know when IT'S going to happen. I just don't want it to hurt! I just don't want any of my loved ones to see it happen. I just don't want it to be when my car is in front of a girlie bar, leaving my wife to wonder if I kicked before or after I went in. I make light of a subject that really does occupy some of my thoughts. Ultimately I just don't want to be a burden on my wife. If I don't know who I am or who she is and can't take care of myself, just whack me. Consider this a legal document. Kick out the plug. At the memorial service tell a funny story about me. Don't cry. I'll be moving on to paradise.

Time really does fly as you get older. At 45 it is zooming buy! At 65 I might have to wear a helmet and goggles to protect my head from getting hit by the time flying by. At 75 I will risk the injury. At 85 I will be grateful for the run. At 90 I think I'll be tired enough to welcome the idea. It is all up to the big guy.

I do know this. Every Day is a GIFT! The other day I heard a woman on TV say that as long as she is walking on this earth God has something for her to do. I like that. I will help my fellow man in between the pot pie and Sanford and Son. I do live my life to the fullest. I do live each day like it may be my last. I try to leave each person I encounter on a good note. I will help people in recovery as long as I can, I will make people laugh as l am funny and I will give thanks each morning when I know I have been granted one more TODAY!