THE WIND PHONE
An Expected Death Is Still Devastating
I knew my friend didn’t have long, but I was shocked by her death
My friend Deb’s last text to me read, “Decided to go off dialysis. Have 2 weeks to live. I love you so much.”
Nine days later, she was dead.
Although I’d known her death was close, I hoped she’d get some extra time. I’d forgotten that hope is a trickster and the ultimate con. It spins whatifs and it could happens and makes you believe in things that will never occur and have no business transpiring.
I told myself no one can ever predict an exact day of death — even the dying, so surely, she’d get longer. She’d been robbed of so much that maybe she’d get an extra three weeks, a month, or several months. Selfishly, I wanted more messages, phone calls, and texts.
My optimism was built on fantasy.
For the last few years, every health issue that could go wrong for Deb did, but like Charlie Brown and the football, there was always a glimmer of hope and a belief that something would go right.
The odds had to be in her favor. I believed she’d beat cancer, get a new kidney, be approved for open-heart surgery, and then, finally, her new dialysis would be successful and give her…
