I awoke with a start at 4 a.m., a searing pain tearing open my chest. I imagined being stabbed with a steak knife couldn’t feel any worse. The pain sat there above my left lung for a while, demanding my full attention, and getting it. It moved down to the top of my stomach, then over to the right side of my chest, where it crept into the bottom of my other lung.
It wouldn’t have taken a genius to know that what I was suffering was a sudden attack of lung cancer, and not being a genius, that is the diagnosis I immediately arrived at. Though I’d given up smoking almost 20 years before, I had read that cancer can still sneak up on you many years later as a result of your earlier addiction. And I hadn’t yet given up wandering into the odd smokey coffee shop or pub, to take in my share of the good old secondhand stuff.
[the_ad_placement id=”top-of-page”]
As I lie there in my bed, things got very clear for me. By 4:30, l was being wheeled down the hall of a hospital, with a lot of worried medical people buzzing around me. By 5 a.m., with the pain as pronounced as ever, I was saying mournful goodbyes to members of my family. It was quite a scene and as I went over it, a tear escaped my eye and ran down my cheek.
At 6 a.m., my wife was over at the funeral home picking out a casket. By 6:15, l was resting comfortably in her acquisition, people milling past me for a last farewell.
At 6:30 a.m., a crowd (a very large one, I believed) was gathered by my graveside for the final ceremony. It was a very moving affair and I was getting quite upset by it all.
It didn’t take that long, this trip from chest pain to treasure chest — in my case, two and half hours. All the while, the pain never let up and my mind went on a sentimental journey back and forward many years.
[the_ad_placement id=”top-of-page”]
At 6:45 a.m., during one of these free-floating trips down memory lane, I suddenly remembered something: My wife had made rhubarb pie for supper the night before. I never eat rhubarb pie. I had eaten two slices after my meal.
“Aha!”, I said, aloud, rolling over and going immediately to sleep. A long night’s worrying about how my life had turned out and whether or not I’d made the most of every moment, was gone.
Nevertheless, the next day I felt very good about the extremely large crowd at my funeral. And the incessant weeping was a little dramatic. But nice.
It was also made me feel good that three of my old girlfriends showed up.
I knew they’d miss me someday.
©2004 Jim Hagarty
