Diary of a Woman Who is Dying

From the Washington Post, the first in a series by Kim Fellner about living and dying following a terminal diagnosis: I’ve also had good role models for how to die. My mom, felled by a cancer recurrence at 86, was a dressmaker who continued to work until about six months before her death. She put her affairs in order so my father, my two siblings and I wouldn’t lose sleep over financial paperwork. She also reached out to home hospice, visited with friends, remained in charge of her life almost to the end and died at home. My father died less than three months later, at age 98. Neither of them expressed any fear. They felt as if dying was just a part of life. I’m now trying to approach my own death with that perspective. Like them, I do not believe in a higher being who actively determines the spans of our lives. I am grateful that my illness, although weird and random, is part of the natural world, unlike violence or a death for which there is someone to blame. I consider my disease a colossal case of bad luck. So how am I dealing with this unexpected twist of life? Sometimes help comes from unexpected sources. Last year, I streamed a 2015 film called “Bridge of Spies.” The lawyer played by Tom Hanks takes a Soviet spy to be exchanged back to his country and possible death. “You’re not worried?” the lawyer asks the spy. And the spy responds, “Would it help?” When I start feeling grim about my situation, I’m finding it useful to take a “Would it help?” moment to consider whether my response can improve the situation or help me cope. I’ve learned that feeling sorry for myself doesn’t make me feel better, although I have been known to utter the passing “oy” or bemoan my inability to plan very far in advance.