Death!
I reek of death.
As I walk past people in the shoppes I wonder if they can smell it on me. I wonder if they wonder what kind of bad perfume I use. Is it like garlic? Something that attachs it's odour to you and sticks? Perhaps there is no smell but I reek of it all the same. I come home to change my clothes and my attitude and put on some life.
Today, I came home to forget the tiny lady way out in the back of beyond who is dying from bladder cancer. I came home to forget the gentleman wasting away from disease and confidentially asking me if I know what he can do. You know: as in "what can I do...?" He isn't asking about someone coming to clean the rugs. He wants to know how he can make a gracious exit. I pretend not to know what he means.
As I pull into my parking spot I see my neighbour, in her early 50's, who has been off work with a bad back for six months. Now it seems that bad back is really a cancer that has metasicised to her spine. The primary went undetected despite examinations and regular mammograms. Her Doctor has told her anywhere from 18 months to 5 years. I downplayed it completely of course but I know very well if she could see what I see she wouldn't want those 5 years. Better to pop off quickly! The best thing I can think of to say is that we all get something but she and I know the names of our somethings.
Although she is very shaken, she wants to be strong and tells me quietly about our other neighbour who she feels very sorry about. Neighbour #2 has been given medicinal marijuana to control her pain and boost her appetite. She has ovarian cancer. Palliative.
My goodness--- it is everywhere.
We live in Paradise. We die in Paradise.
And I reek of it.
