I’m Not Afraid of Dying - Are You?

I guess most people approach their birthday with joy and excitement. A time to celebrate and share time with family, loved ones, or friends.

For me, it has seldom been this way, and this year, more than ever, I want today to be over. Yes, it is my birthday, and I am also closer to seventy than I was in any other year.

So why such a glum approach?

It is not a play for sympathy; rather, a hallelujah moment I woke up to.

Just like every other morning in my groundhog lifestyle, I woke with the sun. Normally, I would be up straight away and take my two little dogs for their walk. Creatures of habit just like me, they are consistent. Today, however, it was pouring with rain when we woke up.

I actually love walking in the rain. There is something quite cathartic about it. My two little girls don’t share my thoughts. They hate it.

I thought it was my birthday; I was going to make a cup of tea, sit in bed, and watch the rain fall over the ocean; big mistake!

The trouble is that when you do things like that, which are out of the ordinary pattern, it invites change. I started thinking about what an exciting day I didn’t have to look forward to. No family, no friends, just my two little buddies.

All my family and friends live on the other side of the country. I left them all to come back to Perth for my wife, who was born and bred in Perth. Being away for 11 years, she was getting homesick for Perth. She became very ill, and I became her carer. Less than a year ago, we were separated.

One thing led to another. Soon, I found myself living like a hermit. I rarely went out and was happy just staying home, watching the days pass. It is not so much a fire as an existence. I am not blaming anyone; it is my own doing.

As I looked out on the dreary day, my eyes started to lose focus. I only have one good eye. My right eye has been blind since birth. After three laser surgeries for retinal tears, it is now cloudy and has poor vision. Its sole purpose is to make me look balanced and healthy like a normal human being.

Three weeks ago, I had two rounds of laser surgery in my left eye for the same problem. Although I have been reassured that it will improve, my vision is not what it was before the tear. It affects my favourite pastime, which is to write. I started thinking I could not bear to go blind.

I think going blind after seeing all your life would seem like a cruel twist of fate. It would be worse than never having had vision at all.

I then had to admit that I was not getting any younger. It seemed that in the last 3-4 years, things had been deteriorating quickly. Two prostate operations, a blood cancer diagnosis, a liver condition, COVID, eight weeks in plaster, and now an eye issue.

Then it happened. My eyes filled with tears as I saw my two little girls curled up on the bed. I realized, "I'm not afraid of dying."

I am not saying I want to die. The only thing I worry about is my two girls. I want to make sure they are taken care of. I also hope there’s enough to help my ex-wife recover.

It was a sobering thought. There is not so much in my life that I would miss, except for them.

I watched my father fade away to a life where he had to have everything done for him. Towards the end, it was not a life; it was an existence at best. My mother, who is 93, ironically is now almost clinically blind in a retirement home and has lost her zest for life.

I told myself I never wanted to be in that situation, waiting for God. My life is not that fulfilling that I want to hang on with every fibre for grim death to live it out completely.

No, I am not afraid of dying, so tonight I am going to cook myself a grand dinner and share it with my two little friends. I will have a bottle of wine and hopefully fall asleep. Tomorrow will be a new day. Probably just like every other day, but it will be 355 days before I have to face another birthday, assuming I make it.

I feel better getting that off my chest. There are many, many more people who are far worse off than me. I understand and appreciate that. But, as I lay in my bed, they were not there with me, so these were just my thoughts, no one else's.

It doesn’t change anything, but that is the power of writing. To let it all out.

Till next time,

Calvin