Dying to Live

It has been a while since I blogged. The cobwebs are billowing past my face and crusty keyboard keys squeak every time I try to type. Once I dust off the layers of wasted stories and events that have built up and never seen the light of day, it will be easier to get down to what I want to say today.

This year has not been easy. Since finding out about my renal failure and going through the motions to establish some form of new life with the disease/ailment, I have persevered with a positive attitude and fighting spirit. The amount of support and good wishes were incredible, especially since I am an introvert and do not keep in contact with many people. Thank you for that. There’s a quote that goes, ‘In life we weep at the thought of death. In death, perhaps we weep at the thought of life’ – Marylyn Monroe. I hope that is her quote and not something that has been attached to her because of her celebrity status. The quote itself resonates with me as I enter the second year of sickness. My positive temperament is worn and my cynical nature has found a firmer footing. Over the weekend, I had a serious bout of illness – so bad the family decided to call the paramedics. I was terrified. Terrified of being alone in a hospital in the middle of the night. Terrified of dying because I was in so much pain. My terror turned into hysterical tears which is not something I am proud of. I try to maintain some level of decorum even in illness.

Needless to say, I refused hospitalisation and thanked the paramedics for their time and effort. They could only check my vitals and advise me to take paracetamol. Honestly, the fear of having to go with them numbed my pain more than anything else. I can honestly say it was my first real panic attack about dying. When I was first rushed to the hospital and told that I was going to die if I didn’t receive treatment right away, it didn’t phase me at all. I took it all in my stride. But this weekend has shown me how vulnerable my mind is and how quickly panic takes over. The pain has subsided, thankfully, and I am recovering.

I just wanted to share this moment with you because I am caught in a bubble of silence at the moment and feel like I am living on my own planet far from mankind. Yes, I could reach out and make plans and go out and live life and do what everyone else is doing, but I don’t want to. It’s tiring. Watching everyone go about their day is about as entertaining as it gets for me. Apart from my writing classes, of course, which I absolutely love. They keep me going each week. I guess I am weeping at the thought of life. I am counting down the days and awaiting that final moment. I know it won’t be coming soon, or maybe it will; either way, I am ready for it.

Unfortunately, I am not as creative as some of my counterparts who have gone out after doing amazing things. My steps are little and easy to fill. The footprints I will leave in the sand will probably disappear seconds after I am gone and I am okay with that. Now, it’s just the fear to overcome – the fear of missing out!

17 responses to “Dying to Live

  1. Wrapping you in Angel wings and tucking you into my heart dear Eloise! ❤

    Liked by 3 people

  2. Hello Eloise it great to see you there today. Strangely I wrote about pain today. You are being so strong just keep going one step at a time. Sending you love and hugs and healing vibes. 💜💜💜💜

    Liked by 3 people

  3. It is nice to see you here. I’m sorry you were in such pain this weekend. I am sure that there are many who don’t believe your footsteps will be so easily washed away. The impressions you made in work and family are much deeper than that! I hope it is many, many years before that is put to the test 🙂 Stop by our little planet here on the blog on occasion, even if it is just to say “hi”. You’ve made some pretty deep impressions here as well.

    Liked by 2 people

  4. Hi Eloise, I am so desperately sorry to read this post. Adversity knocks on some of our doors more frequently than others and it can be very overwhelming. Both my sons suffer from chronic illness and now, so do my dad and hubby. That is four invalids in the house. I know to some extent how you feel. I especially walk hand in hand with my younger son who has been through so much illness and pain. I am glad you find joy in your writing. Hugs and prayers to you.

    Liked by 1 person

  5. Hi Eloise, so sad to read of your struggles. Thinking about you and please know you are in my thoughts. Much love ❤️ and kind thoughts, Marje x

    Liked by 1 person

  6. Always sending you healing hugs and energy. You have been an inspiration to so many people, especially children. You have had a positive effect on so many lives and your footprints in the sand will linger for a long, long time. You are a wonderful person, admired by many.


  7. I didn’t have the heart to press the like button on this post because of the post’s subject, Eloise. But even though the post’s subject is not one we would want to write, it’s good to see you back in the blogging world. Your smile and kind voice have helped so many over the years since our paths first crossed.
    My thoughts are with you and your family. Take good care of yourself, and know that many friends here care about you.
    Sending you hugs.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s