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 28th, 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.
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