I am going to give you a link to an article that I want you to read. I am crying as I write this post, crying because of the poignancy, urgency, and truth of it.
I’m in my early 50’s. I hang out with a lot of younger people because of my late-bloomerishness. Life has led me to have kids late, to start my career late and to take longer with it. I feel younger because of that and also because my life has gotten better with every decade. My childhood was dreadful and the further I get from it the happier I feel, now in the best shape I have ever been, physically and emotionally.
Sometimes I feel like a little kid, sometimes a teenager, sometimes an adult in full power, and–occasionally–when my knees hurt or my period gets weirder (when it comes), my chronological age.
And I realize my time is limited.
None of us know how much life we have left. But our culture encourages us to imagine that there is no limit, and it doesn’t provide any of us with the skills to face ourselves with the reality. How do we talk about death and dying? How do we love each other through it?
In “Letting Go,” Dr. Atul Guwande, a surgeon and an associate professor of surgery at Harvard Medical School, writes with honesty, courage, compassion, and self-examination about the reality, not only from the patient’s point of view or the patient’s family’s, but also the doctors’.
I’m not quoting from this article because it is too hard to extract a single paragraph from an essay so thoughtful, moving and thought provoking. Read it for yourself. Let me know what you think.
h/t Ed Yong