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Someone I know slightly came up to me today and said, “So I hear you’re feeling poorly… Are you dying?”

 

If I’d had my wits about me, I would have launched into my standard Philosophy 202 lecture about how we’re all fading from the moment of birth because life is a terminal disease, you always die from it. But I was kind of taken aback by the question, so I answered, “I don’t know…” Which is the truth, as I have no idea what small or momentous events are taking place right now in the little ecosphere that is my body.

 

 

When I got back to my car, I suddenly thought, “Jeez, maybe I really look bad!” So I checked in the mirror and no, I looked pretty much the same way I have for the past year or so.  Whatever is happening inside, if anything, has not chosen to manifest itself on the exterior. I’m sort of glad about that; it would be difficult to live in McLean as a leper of sorts.

 

 

The comment, the more I think of it, will join others that well-meaning individuals have made regarding my situation. My favorite to date was the nice woman who told me I was lucky, it could have been ovarian cancer. I wanted to respond that not having ovaries would probably preclude that particular illness, but I didn’t, and I’m proud of it. I also liked, “Oh, my mother had that!  Nothing to it!”  Good on your Mom, dude! Another friend wondered whether I’d started drinking again. I haven’t and don’t plan to, unless they discover that alcohol can cure what I have. That’s never happened in the past so I don’t see it happening now. My second favorite was another lady who told me with great certainty that my situation was due to using too much Equal.

 

 

Here’s the thing, though: Everything said has been with the best of intentions. And for that I’m grateful, so keep those comments coming, folks!

 

About epiphanettes

Writer, songcrafter, possibly the best French pedal steel guitarist in Virginia.
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