Nearly four years ago, Kathleen was being told by a doctor that she might “have to make some tough choices” while I lay in a hospital bed drifting in and out of consciousness. (I spent ten days in the hospital and only really remember about several hours of it.) I should have packed it in at age 56.
Instead today I turn sixty.
I cannot fathom why I’m still here. I’ve had friends much younger and in much better shape than I am drop dead with no warning. I can’t understand why I’m still sucking oxygen.
Maybe it was to welcome a new generation of children into the world, with the birth of my two grandsons, A.J. and Orson. Maybe it’s to see Caroline through to her goal of becoming president. Maybe it’s to provide company for my beloved Kathleen. Maybe it’s to finish the third “Hidden Earth” novel. Maybe it’s to see the next “Star Wars” movies.
Whatever it is: I’m still standing.
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