Getting the Wife’s Permission to Live
You know it must be an odd kind of day when in the fog of yesterday’s anesthesia, I open my inbox and there it is. The message I’ve been waiting for. I was finally being offered a deal on burial insurance. Well, it is about time. I mean, you’d think with all I have been through and all I’ve put my body through, someone would realize this was the offer I had been waiting on.
With the latest procedures almost wishing I was dead, I took the odd email as a sign of hope. The truth is that the pain will end one way or another. Fortunately for this round the pain ended because of the skill of the doctors and nurses who took care of my ache.
But it all seems at times to have the same luck as having the roulette wheel ball land on the one number you selected. But again, I’ve been blessed. Or had God’s hand on the wheet. Or just been plain lucky. I’m still here kicking and screaming even twenty plus years after a doctor pronounced I had maybe a couple of years left on my warranty.
So for today, I laugh off the burial insurance. I might mention it to my wife later, but she probably won’t find it as funny as I do. She keeps saying I don’t have enough insurance to try the fun things left on my bucket list. You know, like drag racing or sky diving.
Since we did find out lately that I also have some possible malignant bone lesions and a little heart failure to deal with, maybe it is time to check out the burial insurance. Maybe then she might be satisfied with the amount of insurance I have. Then maybe I can run off the face of the earth on my own terms – hair on fire and everything.
So here’s to finishing that bucket list and finishing it with a smile on my face. And here’s to choosing joy each and every day, no matter what that day may bring.