I’m now 86. Seriously and joyously preparing for my demise. This, the very end of my life, has brought unexpected fulfillment of my dreams – in particular the one I “married” and tried to give up years ago. If you’ve read my bio, “Getting Lucky at Eighty,” you’ll remember that at the end I “divorced” my hope of ever getting out a cassette-taped message about male/female relationships, an epiphany, which I had had. It’s hard to imagine how much of my later life I have given to that dream. I was only 50 when it happened.
The fact is: I was way ahead of my time by doing what would later become an audio book. It went from cassette, to cd, and now to an mp3, so that you can hear my conviction in my actual voice just as I intended and recorded it in a Hollywood studio in 1981. And NOW, I have transcribed it, and so it’s also available in pdf to read on line, print or download. Amazing! Unbelievable, but true. I’ve contracted with Amazon for the audio version of “Gentlemen Prefer Bitches” and it should be on Audible any day now. Print versions (the pdf) are already on Kindle, at my own website and two others coming soon.
So, yes I’ve done what I came here to do. Last year, because I had borrowed some money to stay in real estate, not accepting that it was over for me, I had to file bankruptcy and give up a profession that I’d loved and clung to for 50 years (1961 to 2011). Because I’m a Scotch/Irish Oakie and a proud Aries, that decision and the stressful months of waiting for it to happen cost me my health. But even at that, God has been good.
I have a rare disease called Avium Complex. It’s an incurable, slow-growing bacterial infection that had already eaten away much of my right lung before they found it. The stress of giving up work in 2011 brought an immediate loss of appetite and constant nausea. I lost 47 pounds. I guess that’s good for my overall survival, but I’ve been prettier. I have now opted out of taking the recommended three, powerful antibiotics that MIGHT help but would not cure. Why would I do that to an already compromised body that I owe such a debt of gratitude? I have loved and appreciated my body since I was thirty-five.
This infection has REALLY slowed me down – won’t let me walk more than a block – chase boys, or even talk for extended periods of time. But I am not in any pain at all; just have to sleep a lot and rest often and hire help for almost everything that takes energy. I mean, is that a blessing, or what? To have ample warning that it’s all going to be over, and probably without that end-of-life suffering that so many people endure? I’m not good at pain; never was.
Every thing material is now just something I get to need to rid of or to worry about how I’m going to get rid of it. I’m trying to complete my preparations. I have help; so it’s actually fun. Years ago I signed a “Do Not Resuscitate” and filled in the book, “A Graceful Farewell” (Maggie Watson), to save my beloved family all the trouble I can.
But the greatest joy is knowing that my gift will always be available to bring transparency to male/female relationships and the possibility of leaving my kids some pocket money. We really can’t improve upon how the universal laws work, can we?