From Plato’s Apology
Socrates taught Plato who taught Aristotle. Plato's Apology is basically a transcript of Socrates speech/defense at his trial where he was found guilty and sentenced to death by drinking a cup of poison (hemlock). The following is an exert from that speech (towards...
Quantum Indeterminacy/Observer’s Paradox
Death came calling the other day, a soft tentative knock from the other side so as to not disturb the small children, or anyone else but me, and it did; a soft ripple across the pond, subtle but distinctly sharp, a shiver when I saw the value, and I knew it was not...
Contact, for real
My last contact didn't pan out. I guess it was fake, but I think I had a real one, which was cool. A voice talking back from the ether. A voice called Miriam.
Contact
In less than two months it will have been 4 years since I first thought I might be actively dying for the second time in my life, and a few months less than that since I last wrote a post. One thing has remained the same, and three things changed in the interval: I am...
4 November 2018: On Dying
I've been dying since I was eighteen months old; however, this latest rendition seems the real thing. I had a glimmer of it seventeen years ago during one of my other attempts at dying, a premonition at the time that perhaps I'd not seen the last of it. It came back,...
8 November 2018: I Know what is is now
I know what it is now: --my Burden; or, at least what I think it is; or, I should say, what I hope it isn’t. Cryptogenic bilateral fibrosing pleuritis is, or may be; or, I pray, not be my burden. A string of not overly large not overly confusing words. Quite simple;...
9 November 2018: Resignation
The advantage to being a physician, especially a surgeon, when you know you’re going to die, is that you can skip all the preliminary stages of grief as defined by Kubler-Ross and go straight to acceptance. It’s much more efficient, because you know how things work,...
10 November 2018: Embarrassment
Frankly, I’membarrassed. It’s like I failed at what matters most. It wasn’t supposed to happen. Naturally, that’s what most think when in a similar position; however, in my case it really is true. I followed all the rules; never smoked, didn’t even try marijuana other...
15 November 2018: From Prufrock to Rage
From a letter from a friend titled, Letter to our Fate: Don’t you dare, cruel fate. Stand down. You stay away from my friend, a rare man among the only half, a handful in my entire life whose kindness and sweet-heartedness exceeds all others. A man so loved that the...
20 November 2018: My angels, mother and Catholicism
My grandfather, second from the left in the back, immigrated from Odessa, Russia with his family in 1917 when he was seventeen years old. This was the period of time analogous to Fiddler on the Roof. I never spoke to him of it because I was too young to be interested,...
This blog is a journal of thoughts on dying, more than once. The progression of thought is chronological the first time. These posts start 4 November 2018.
The posts subsequent to the thread of Nov. 2018 through Jan 2019 are exclusive to that experience.
WordPress does not allow the option of ordering the posts from oldest to newest; therefore, I’ve ordered the posts manually, which is why the date in the title (accurate) does not match the technical date of the post.
I am six years removed from dying more immediately; however, the process has been once again accelerated with a diagnosis of CLL, but, that’s not so bad, until it is I suppose.
The purpose is to perhaps increase one’s appreciation for each day, in effect, to experience what I am myself; but, without dying.
This is private, anonymous. I have shared the url with a few close friends and family, all other visitors are accidental, or possibly referred.