Morbid thoughts

The title here is a heads-up to the followers of this blog. If reading a rant about dying isn't your cup of tea, exit now.
    I just returned from a two and a half week visit to Gabe, Robin, and Neva Jean. The trip involved about 8 flights in all and during these flights I had some compelling thoughts. First of all, it seemed so alien to NOT have Willie G's shoulder next to me. I don't know why, but the absence of his shoulder  was what I noticed most. That's probably symbolic, you know, the strong shoulder to lean on. I know I drop all my burdens on him.
     And being with Gabe-Robin-Neva made me wish so hard to be around many more years to see how things develop with them and to be a part of their lives more. We'll be living with Za for the next year, and I'm really grateful that I get another year to live together. I want to be healthy during that time too. And I really want to have lots of new experiences to share with Willie G. But my markers went up just a tiny shade this past month. It probably means NOTHING, but still....you can't help but wonder, "Is this the beginning of a recurrence?" Ovarian cancer recurs in about 80% of all cases, so the thought (fear) is always there.
     Fear is what I battle with the most. I ask myself what exactly I'm afraid of, and there are a number of things probably, but most likely I am afraid of dying. There. I've said it. I hate that I'm such a chicken-shit, but I cannot bear to think about watching my loved ones be saddened and burdened by my care as I become increasingly unable to care for myself. Cancer is a shitty way to go. I don't want to live forever, but I'd like to choose how I depart, and it seems that a choice is just not possible. I wonder, too, am I afraid that nothing of me will endure after I'm gone? Lately I hear daily news stories of people dying - Japan tsunami, bin Laden's compound - and a voice inside says, "See there? People die every day. You won't (can't) be any different."
     So while I was on an airplane this week that had braking problems and had to return to Detroit instead of landing in Charleston, a part of me thought, "Now THIS would be an ok way to go. Crash! and it's all over." I totally couldn't emphasize with the young woman crying in the seat beside me. She was afraid the plane wouldn't land successfully.
     I'm absolutely NOT going to have another blood test until I meet a new doctor in Boston in July. I'm going to force myself to assume that everything's fine. Even if this is the start of a recurrence, nothing would be done until there was harder evidence. I'm trying to get connected with Dana Farber Cancer Institute in Boston, a very progressive, research-driven clinic. Most of the gyn/onc there are women, which is refreshing, and they are at the top of their fields. Getting the insurance on board and all my records forwarded to them is my current challenge. It's good to have something to work on.
     So I think I'll try to get a copy of Stephen Hawking's The Grand Design  and perhaps, come better to grips with my brief stay on the planet. I'd be glad to hear anyone's theories on death and dying apart from the Christian-We-are-all-saved premise. I think I've heard all of that theory necessary to make up my mind that it just doesn't ring true to me.
     This past winter, during one of our many snowfalls, it occurred to me that each snowflake could be a departed soul. You know, how each one is unique? And that comforted me some. I'd like to be a beautiful snowflake. And of course, I'd fall right here on our ridge top.
     I DO get the "Live each day as if it's your last." and I'm trying to do just that.