Over the past day or so, something has shifted. With the war temporarily on hold and my anxiety medication transition apparently back on track, I find myself enveloped by a tremendous sense of calm.
I am profoundly immobile now, limiting my movements to avoid freezing episodes, steering clear of crowded places. It is, in its own way, spooky. I almost feel as though my bags are packed. I accept what is coming.
Not for one moment should this be misconstrued as wanting to check out. I simply feel ready for what is likely to be thrown at me.
I want to see so much more of life. Future weddings. Grandchildren. These were my dreams, and it is now highly probable they won’t be mine to witness. I am at peace with that.
The fight has not left me. I published four articles today on four different topics. With a full-time carer, things are more stable at home, and I remain as I have always been: blessed with the best family, great friends, and a career that has somehow ensured my family will not face financial distress when I am gone.
Today I had a text conversation with a woman who very sadly lost her husband, also an international consultant, three and a half years after his diagnosis. It was a very tough end. And yet, speaking with her, I found myself thinking: I am getting ready as well as anyone possibly could.
I am not bitter. I am not angry. I feel tremendous fear about what comes next, but so far the fear has proven greater than the reality.
What worries me most is not my own journey but the journey of those I love. I pray they find it as least painful as possible.
I trust in G-d and my loved ones to help me through this journey, however long.
2 Responses
Ben, you’re an extraordinary man and I feel privileged to have spent some time with you. The last series of posts have touched me deeply and I thank you for them.
Thank you Ben