Homage

http://www.amazon.com/Goodbye-Keanu-multiple-myeloma-ebook/dp/B00CB87K8Y

Whether you are religious or not, it would be infinitely more satisfactory to die having served some sort of higher purpose. Heart surgeons and research scientists, teachers and iPhone engineers, can all utter in their final breath: “It’s okay; at least I didn’t waste my life.” That must be such a relief! But some people don’t have a chance to reflect on the journey their life took. On September 28^th, a small plane crashed in Nepal which killed nineteen passengers. It crashed two minutes after take-off. Residents of the town where it crashed said they heard passengers screaming and saw them waving their arms as it nosedived. I have only seen the names of the seven British men who died and I want to remember them here: Raymond Eagle, 58, Christopher Davey, 51, Vincent Kelly, 50, Darren Kelly, 45, Timothy Oakes, 57, Stephen Holding, 60, and Benjamin Ogden, 27. I give them my respect. They did not expect to die. Now if they had all been base-jumping or rowing across the Pacific well…

      Since then there have been massacres, murders and accidents. There have been too many deaths to count. The BIG GIANT FOOT has been busy as usual. Unlike the death of the famous, only a handful will lament my passing. I didn’t get around to doing anything great. So it is better that I go instead of the heart surgeon, the research scientist or even George Clooney.

      But I am still here. My September doctor’s appointment went well. My blood results were good. I was set to start more velcade, steroids and thalidomide as a last powerful hit to my body to show it who was boss. I sleep well and am only reminded of my disease once or twice each day.

I don’t know how much longer I have here on earth. I don’t know how much longer my voice will be heard by those I love. I don’t know if anyone will care that I was here at all. But if you have a notebook and you hear of my death, write my name down. It will make me feel special.