I laid out all my tablets this morning while my porridge was in the micro wave, I do so enjoy winter mornings as it allows me to eat my all time favourite breakfast, somehow it just isn’t edible in the summer, as it turned in circles I laid out a neat line on the kitchen counter. It’s always the same, I stop for a few seconds questioning that I have the right ones and questioning further if I should once again try just dropping one from the list. I haven’t done that for a long time now, I guess I am at last convinced that they really all do have a purpose. It’s kind of sad though to see them all there and all totally required, I find myself questioning often how my life took me to a point were the number of drugs I need daily, now out number the types of food I choose to eat. The worst thing though is the fact that those tablets will now only ever increase, I hate to think what the final collection will look like. It seems to be a fact that all of us as we age can look forward to a life filled with different little pills, but it is something I have questioned all my life. How is it that we lived at all before doctors discovered a recipe to make us rattle? I guess it all depended on how you look at life and what it holds for us, but I can’t help thinking that the whole thing is wrong. I actually don’t remember ever feeling that just living for the sake of taking another breath, should ever be our reason for life, life should be our reason for breathing and life is only worth living when we have happiness. There seems to have been a lot on TV lately about the elderly and how they now live separated from family and just hanging on for the next visit, part of me shouts out that it is all so wrong, but part of me, well I know for one I couldn’t manage to live in the same house as my mother for more than a day.
I can only speak for myself, based on my life and my upbringing but there has always been this taboo area around growing old and more importantly dying. Coming from a complete and large family, with more aunts and uncles that I can even remember all their names, I have not once seen anyone ill and dying, or even dead. I didn’t even see my own son once he was dead, I know that was my choice, but I just couldn’t take it at the time. Even more unusual I have only ever been to two funerals, Jeffery’s and a grand parent of an ex-partner. So here I am aged 52 and I haven’t the slightest idea of the one thing we all have to go through at some point, death, other than the glimpse shown on the TV. My family seemed to think it was something that until you were an adult, you weren’t allowed to see, even when my grandfather died I wasn’t allowed to go to his funeral, I was 11 at the time, but neither of my elder siblings, one 16 and one 18, were not allowed to go either. I know it had something to do with my Father as he wouldn’t even let any of us wear anything black as he said we would wear enough in our lives, so there was no reason to wear it as a child. Being housebound has meant that when he died and Adam’s Grandmother died, I was unable to even be there for them, my Father did such a total job, in I guess protecting me, that the result is I am totally ignorant. So when I watch TV and see people who are no more than bodies that are being abused by life, I am left feeling that something is totally wrong with the whole system.
I don’t know how people bring their children up these days, if they too hide death away from them, or if they allow them to be part of it, as it is part of them, but I know this for sure, I am totally lost about what my future will hold. In some ways I would actually like to spend some time on a ward for the terminally ill, just to see and be there, to know what happens and to feel how it works. Seeing it on TV is one dimensional, life is anything but, so I am sure that death isn’t either. I know I still have many years ahead of me, not as many as most but I still have a long time to think about these things, that’s all I can do, think. Even with the best expectations of 10 years, time enough to do almost anything, I can’t learn or understand death. I can watch, I can read and I can imagine, all in themselves to some extent useful, but I wish some where along the road that someone had allowed me to really learn.
I know that some will call all of this morbid, but it’s not, it is far from it. I have always gathered knowledge and worked on understanding what is happening to me and what will happen to me in the future. I can keep popping those pills, those I have now and those prescribed in the future. I can take all the inhalers, the injections and everything else, but when is the point were it is no longer me keeping me alive, or just the drugs. There is so much we just accept without any question, maybe we should question more or maybe they should just be honest with us and tell us when our bodies aren’t able to cope on their own. Part of my education is missing and as time passes it is actually an important part, as without understanding I can’t take with confidence any of the future steps that will appear. Like many things I will be guessing, something that has always unsettled me, give me facts, things that can’t be argues with and I am happy.