I always thought if I ever had a disease like cancer, I would know it, feel it like an alien in my body.
It hasn’t been that way at all. The symptoms crept in one small twinge at a time, one extra cough at a time, one afternoon nap at a time.
One day, I was willing to bet I had a touch of COPD. I would have lost that bet the next day.
The medical machine crunk up slowly, idling for a scant week. Then that machine, that infernal machine, kicked into gear and started rolling toward an end I cannot see or fathom.
I’m not sick-yet. I’m not at the finality of the diagnosis-yet. But, I am paralyzed on this new road. It’s not familiar and it looks dark up ahead. The steering wheel is in a white-knuckle grip.
So, tomorrow, the machine picks up speed. Someone said, it’s like being handed a grenade with the pin already pulled.