Living or Dying: There is a Difference

Living has crippled me. Whether it’s been circumstances along the path of life, my own mistakes, random misfortune, fear, ignorance, or physical malady, a good many things have gotten in my way of living life, let alone an abundant one.

It wasn’t until this week, when I honestly started giving frank, analytical consideration to dying, that I discovered how little I’ve been living. Don’t get me wrong-- my life has been rich in a multitude of ways. I have the two greatest kids on the planet, I have indescribably wonderful friends, and I’ve been afforded a life full of experiences that leave me indebted for their inestimable value.

I do not fear death. When I was young, I think I was rather anesthetized to it. I saw a few dead and near-dead people when I was very young, growing up in an urban area. By the time I was 14, my grandparents and mother we all deceased. Death was a fact of life.

When I got older, I came to know God, and grew in the belief of a heavenly afterlife with a joy far greater than what we live here on earth. Death is just the final transition in a life that’s been filled with them.

As I have been working with my medical team over the past week to decide how to proceed from here, I have had to face some harsh medical opinions. The options I want to pursue are, in my doctor’s estimation, going to lead to death more imminently than the ones he recommends. I, with just my fair (yet unprofessional) amount of intelligence and my “gut” instinct, believe the outcomes will be just the opposite.

I called my old doctor in Denver, and he agrees with me. The cynic in me tells me that it wouldn’t have taken many more calls to find someone to say what I wanted to hear, had the call to Denver not panned out. Everyone has an opinion for sale these days.

I drained every dime of the money I’ve made in the past two months on the series of consultations that ensued from that one phone call. Insurance companies, apparently, aren’t big on expensive speculation when it comes to managing my health care needs.

I’m quickly learning that whether this is a path to better living, or a path to quicker dying, the trip ain’t cheap.

Friday, while weighing all the pros and cons with my local doctor, I went ahead and asked him to show me the costs associated with each of the options we perused. I figured that the moment I was absorbing the shocking news of another round of not-completely-successful treatment, I may as well deal with the sticker shock of what lies as well.

It’s all expensive. Surgery. Chemo. Radiation. More meds. Even doing nothing will inevitably be expensive as I just wait to literally fall apart. Over and above what the insurance will pay, I am looking at another $1900-$15,500 out of my own pocket, depending on the treatment I choose.

I have been thinking, talking, seeking advice, reading, writing, praying, praying, praying, and waiting for that guidance to come. In considering things like, ‘would it be better to live or die?, I have realized that living has been a fearful, subsistence kind of thing for me in a lot of ways.

I am afraid of disappointing others.
I am afraid of being hurt.
I am afraid of hurting others.
I am afraid of failing.
I am afraid of trying.
I am afraid of succeeding.
I am afraid to take authority of those things that are inherently mine.

Good Lord, could I be any more of a mess?

Friday night, I awoke, scribbled some things on the pad on my nightstand and trundled back off into a troubled sleep. In the morning, I read the notes I’d written: “$9,728” and “Know the difference between living life and a life lived.”

I’m still meditating about the latter scrawl. The former, however, became much clearer today. I’ve been praying about that number all weekend, asking God to bless it, to let it be a number of blessing to me and to others; to let it be a harbinger of comfort and peace.

This morning, I spent a good deal of time getting all the logistics in place to do another 30 days of drug treatment. In between a litany of work calls and emails, I was getting bombarded by calls and texts from the doctor’s office.

At noon, I made arrangements to personally go into debt for $9,200 to cover additional treatment. That was a difficult thing to do, as I am adamant about trying to stay debt free through this situation—so much so, that I requested that the loan not be formalized until this Friday, so that I could try and settle the total unrest I had about my decision.

At 5:30, I was really ready to turn the phone off on everyone. Because I have a busy day tomorrow, I decided it would be more efficient to take the one last call from the doctor’s office rather than have to return the call in the morning.

I answered the phone and was greeted by the billing manager at the doctor’s office. I began explaining to her that I would have the money she must surely be requesting by Friday. She listened patiently as I rambled on.

When I stopped, she chuckled and said, “You have to be one of the most operationally savvy people I’ve dealt with,” so impressed was she by her perception that I’ve been handling the long list of medical to-do’s efficiently. Then, she told me that I needn’t make payment arrangements, but only stop by to pick up a letter.

I stopped for a second as I thought about that, and then I asked her, “Do you realize that I engaged services for the next 30 days?”

She laughed again and said, “Yes, and someone has made a payment today.”

She asked me how I would like to handle the $272 credit that I currently have on account. I asked her how much had been paid toward my account, because I couldn’t make sense of the $272. The office manager told me that $10,000 had been paid on my account. I did the math. Between the $9200 for new services, and the $528 in miscellaneous charges that had accrued, my bill was $9728.

I told her to hang on to the change… I’m sure it’ll get spent before it’s all over.

And once again, I am left here speechless, feeling too many things to even wrap my own brain around. Someone, something, continues to speak life into my circumstances in ways that are incomprehensible to me.

Dear Amazing Person Out There: I can’t wait until tomorrow when I can pick up your letter. In the meantime, please know that I am going to do everything in my power to bring dividends to your investment, and to live life in a way which might somehow make my gratitude seem like it could be enough.  In the meantime, know that I am praying for you, and for God to show you a hundred-fold what you've helped show me.