Tag Archives: getting old with a terminal illness

Worn and worn again

When I was younger I hated losing anything. I feel this had something to do with my high level of anxiety—and a fear of the unknown. I actually preferred breaking an object to losing it—because the outcome was not an uncertainty.

Life has dealt me a hefty dose of apprehensive scenarios. I am almost comfortable with unknown outcomes.

However, when it comes to living, I have some definite preferences. Not lost, not broken, but rather worn. Ridden to the bone. Worn out—all the way out.

That is my goal.

Yes. I have made it to sixty—once unascertainable. With any luck (and some formidable science), I shall be here for a few more years. Five would be most excellent, ten splendid, twenty, well…one can dream. Age is not an issue, rather it is most decidedly the objective.

Gray hair, wrinkles, jowls…bring it. All of it. My body is a vehicle and I intend to run that odometer right into the ground.

xo