When you are dying it opens your eyes in ways you don't expect.
While it is true, in a philosophical sense, that none of us is guaranteed our next breath, believing you have very few of them left changes your perspective.
I mentioned in the last article that family came to assist in general cleaning of my home which I hadn't really been up to par to do for a solid six months.
Unbeknownst to me was that my sister would be emptying cupboards and china shelves.
Again, it's been a while since I posted, and I doubt this one will be of my usual length, so I apologize in advance.
This month has been challenge filled to say the very least. I've spent five days in the hospital and a couple of days in the emergency room. Yep, days.
If I look back, the trouble really erupted, much like the two hot volcanoes spewing right now, about six months ago. C and I had just come home and I took my little Chihuahua out for his evening stroll. A path we routinely take minimally twice a day. The route is paved and fairly even; there is nothing remarkable or strenuous about it.
