Death and Those Other Pesky Signs of Mortality
Posted on July 18, 2013
I had a dream last week that woke me up in a cold sweat. In it, I was driving in a car with my brother-in-law and father-in-law, which is already slightly morbid since FIL has been gone now since March. We were all sad and talking about how my husband had just passed away a few hours earlier from choking. I sat in the vehicle with them and cried. It’s bad enough we have dreams like this about people we love, but even more so when it feels as real as this one did. I couldn’t get past the feeling that I’d never have another conversation with him, would never again see him smile or hear his voice. His absence created a hole so deep inside me that I knew if I threw myself down it, it would never end and I’d still never find him. Is that what it is to lose the love of one’s life?
Couples joke from time to time about which one of them will go first…or which one of them will be the cause of the other going first. I think the lucky ones are the ones who go either together (if they’re going to go at all) or who go within a short time of each other. We read about them in the news every couple of weeks. I wonder if the idea of living without their other half is just so overwhelming that their will to live ceases and their body simply shuts down. Or perhaps their souls have become so much a part of each other that one literally cannot survive without the other for very long.
Would it be so wrong to be that connected to someone? Maybe that’s what my dream was telling me. Maybe I’ve become that intertwined with my husband or perhaps it means I’m on the way to becoming that close to him. Perhaps he and I have been together in previous lives and are already joined so closely together that we keep finding each other. Then, too, a dream could just be a dream, right? And let’s face it, these little reminders of mortality really suck.
My family doctor suggested a decade ago that the reason I was limping is because I’d developed arthritis in my foot. Or I was faking it. I wasn’t faking it despite an x-ray not detecting anything. So strong was my insistence that something was indeed wrong that he sent me for a bone scan and it found three hairline fractures. I may have been in pain, but the I-told-you-so look on my face felt damn good.
Kidney stones were the first major hint of my mortality. I know pain. I know pain intimately. I’ve NEVER felt pain like this. It was as if my body decided to give me the middle finger and went on strike for the day. Suffice to say that we had a coming-to-Jesus meeting after the morphine wore off and decided to work together so as not to repeat that situation again. And then there are events of the past month.
I tease my husband about working my ass off at the house in terms of getting it ready for the work we’re having done. I’ve packed most of his father’s things up, cleared entire rooms (including furniture) myself, moved it all back once the rooms had been painted and carpeted, condensed boxes, moved things from upstairs to downstairs and then back again, plus numerous trips to IKEA and carrying some fairly heavy boxes in. I’m not someone who can sit idly by and wonder how these things can be done. I dig in and I get it done, otherwise crap just doesn’t happen.
Unfortunately, sometime in the last couple of weeks, I overdid it. Badly. Someone informed me that I’m not in my thirties anymore. I find that to be extremely impolite. They should have said I was no longer in my twenties, thereby allowing me some amount of face for others to think I’m still in my thirties. Which I am…in my mind. The term umbilical hernia has been uttered, but it’s minor. I meet with the surgeon tomorrow to figure out a course of action that meets with my husband’s approval. My course of action is to ignore it, which doesn’t meet with my husband’s approval. He’s kinda picky. So I’m playing it his way at the moment. Just for the moment, though.
These things that have happened to me over the past couple of years—since I’m still in my early thirties—have forced me to reexamine my initial thoughts of mortality. I used to think I was immortal. Not so. My body is mortal. This just means my mind is immortal. And because of this, I’m now in the process of learning how to transfer my mental self into a form of energy capable of existing outside the body, yet still able to turn Blu-Ray players on, load movies, and use computers to write my books and blogs.
This should prove to be very entertaining for us all once I succeed.
And how is your week progressing?
Kristoffer Gair (who formerly wrote under the pseudonym Kage Alan) is the Detroit-based author of Honor Unbound, A Funny Thing Happened On The Way To My Sexual Orientation, Andy Stevenson Vs. The Lord Of The Loins, Gaylias: Operation Thunderspell, several short stories featured in anthologies (to be combined in a forthcoming book), the recently re-published novella Falling Awake, its sequel, Falling Awake II: Revenant and Falling Awake III: Requiem.
8 Responses to “Death and Those Other Pesky Signs of Mortality”
Katherine T. says:
July 18, 2013 at 12:12 pm
Umbolical hernia? Never heard of that one. I think your hubs is right on this one. Don’t ignore it.
I hate those kinds of dreams you had. I’ve had several similar type dreams in the past and, unfortunately, they turnex out to be premonitions of bad things that happened to people I knew not to long after. I worry about lovex ones when I have a dream like that. But, it could be just a dream, right?? 🙂
July 18, 2013 at 2:49 pm
I think we can sometimes sense upcoming conflict, little disturbances in the future that will require attention. This was just a kick in the ass. Unfortunately and I have no idea if this is because I’m now aware of it, but I’m having a tiny bit of discomfort in the area of the hernia. I’ll know more tomorrow after the meeting with the specialist.
Joelle Casteel says:
July 18, 2013 at 2:05 pm
I believe you meant “now in the process… ” but yeah, I relate- I had vent about my Master at two friends of mine. Mind you, when I first met my Master, I was like 20, abusing mini-thins, soda, and cigarettes. The 35 year old woman I am today, that’s an ex-smoker, ex-mini-thin user, drinks soda in moderation- she doesn’t tend to stay up for days around like the woman He collared; I think for the most part, the changes of maturity are better.
my Master and I, we’re somewhat the opposite of you and your husband, Kris. I try to get us to do a bit better on health; He wants Little Ceaser’s pizza with salt sprinkled on top. Well only somewhat because there’s times I can be pretty hard headed about “No, I’m really feeling well enough to do that, Master” I’ll protest even though He’s taken one look at me and seen how sick I am.
funny to think though- here we’re both talking about change today, although yours is somewhat serious and my blog post is all about finding my inner brat 😀 You may want to come to my blog on Saturday for the giggles 😀
July 18, 2013 at 2:50 pm
I’ll be sure to check it out. lol
The hubby strongly suggested (and I’ve been good about it this week so far) having salads for lunch and then vegetables for dinner. It’s boring, but I’m sticking with it. Figure I’ll give it a month and see if I like/notice any changes.
Little Caesars…damn that sounds good!
Joelle Casteel says:
July 18, 2013 at 4:12 pm
hmm strongly suggested 😀 that sounds serious lol well you’re done there in Detroit, you have access to wonderful vegetarian and vegan restaurants I don’t up here in the arm pit of Michigan
well you know, it’ll probably be hilarious, with all the verbal screams of braaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaat on my fb wall 😀
Patricia Logan says:
July 18, 2013 at 2:06 pm
It’s just a dream. Sort of like the dream about being in your early thirties. Sorry you are having health problems, but that happens with the elderly. I hope they can correct all the outies that should be innies without surgery but having seen it done on two close family members surgically, it’s not a biggie and the recovery is wonderfully fast. Feel better, tootsie <3
July 18, 2013 at 2:52 pm
I don’t want surgery. I don’t want it. And I don’t want to be out if I do have to have it. Every time I think about it and every time I think about having to go to the specialist tomorrow, I start swearing my head off. It’s really fucking stupid. Grrr…
JP Adkins says:
July 18, 2013 at 8:53 pm
All will be well and I will bring Pesto!