End of life stage observations

I’m not planning on dying anytime soon. I’m 81, past the longevity norms for my generation of Canadians. I’m on bonus time already. I know it’s boring hearing others talk about health. I can’t help myself. I’ve been working on my story telling all my life. The oldest news story in the world, lead (lede in editor jargon) is,’’Hey everybody, look what I found out!’’

I don’t intend to whine about my health. I smoked and drank heavily and was 100 lbs overweight much of my adult life. I feel a bit guilty about having known so many people who took much better care of themselves but are gone. I am embarrassed for feeling a little sorry for myself to be losing my doctor although missiles and bombs, and all the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse are not between me and food, water, medicine and heat. I will even still have access to local clinics and my records.

End of life is new to me and has brought several unanticipated side effects. It is a unique although universal life stage. If some of the things I learn on my journey, can smooth the way for you, this butterfly scribe will have successfully completed his leg of the relay. I don’t intend to whine about my health. I smoked and drank heavily and was 100 lbs overweight most my adult life. I feel a bit guilty about having known so many people who performed their personal care much better but are gone. I am embarrassed for feeling sorry for myself to be losing my doctor although missiles and bombs, and all the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse are not between me and food, water, medicine and heat. I will even still have access to local clinics and my records.

I hope some of you see it as my attempt to chip in a bit to pay for all the kaleidoscope of photographs, information, art, and community service you feed our community every day.
And, of course, you don’t have read one word. :-)

I’ve noticed most of my contemporaries get most of their excited delight from giving and doing things for their family members.
We also gradually realize we had our turn to build and lead and serve and reproduce and seduce but it isn’t now. I like Bill Clinton’s label, ‘’Those of us with more yesterdays than tomorrows.’’
We couldn’t function if we thought about the fact, of which we’re well aware, that our lives will end.
As the film reel spins faster and faster as the movie nears its end, it’s harder and harder to ignore.
Most of my class mates, many of my closest colleagues and many family members are gone or isolated. Having lived with same tidal river view for 39 years, I’ve had it thoroughly, regularly re-emphasized what an insignificant mote I am in both space and time.
Someone said we don’t stop dreaming because we’re old. We’re old when we stop dreaming. My dreams are to see as much of my grand kids lives as possible and leave them happy, healthy and with warm and amusing memories of me.
My personal, daily, ambition and chore is to fend off vascular dementia. I have A-fib and sleep apnea. If my devices are at all accurate, my heart rate drops to 34 bpm several times per hour every night and I regularly just stop breathing. I’m on blood thinners to help avoid paused blood from clotting moving to the brain but they also mean my circulation doesn’t take as much oxygen to my brain.
My mother told me her friends’ greatest fear was to be physically alive but pathetic mentally. I agree.
It’s hard these days to get guidance on how we’re doing and how much exercise is enough to move enough blood and oxygen but not so much as to trigger the heart attacks or strokes A-fib makes more likely.
We all know heat stroke can knock us down, put us in spasms and helpless. Hydrations and IV electrolytes are sometimes required to bring us out. I wasn’t surprised when high summer temperatures and humidity drained my energy and triggered cramps. I even learned that keeping a heating pad on my feet at night and extra hydration helped with that. More recently, I started having heavy shuddering shivering soon after the sun goes down at home. I’d load on fleece. An hour or so later, I’d be too hot.
Eventually, I deduced the same inability of my thinned circulation to cool my blood quickly, works in reverse. It seems to take about two hours for my body to adjust to a two-degree C drop in ambient room temperature.