Nobody really gets terminal illness until you're either terminally ill, or right on the fringe of it. Even those of us who are one degree away from it only have the vaguest notion of it. It seems like something on the order of 30% of human prose ever written struggles with this notion of mortality [1], yet very few words are devoted to how to care about someone who is terminally ill, and even fewer on how to be there for them, providing encouragement without some kind of cheerleading. Part of this is because everyone is different, and some people really do want some of that. But my experience with it in this day is that those people are in the minority.
Thank you Pieter, for sharing your words with the world on this most personal of experiences.
[1] Totally made up statistic based on my gut feeling, so please don't bother asking for a citation.
The book, When Breath Becomes Air, is about the best thing I've ever read relating to terminal illness. It was written by Dr Paul Kalanithi, a brilliant neurosurgery resident at Stanford.
That might be your perspective but after being in hospitals and treatment for a lifetime condition, I saw enough of my peers die by the age of 10 that I think I have a pretty good handle on mortality. It's just a very uncomfortable subject, which I think hinges on our species not knowing "what happens" after the body dies. Well, there are lots of claims and plenty of options by way of choosing a faith, but I'm fairly certain we simply don't know.
It sounds like you might be on the fringe of it, friend. And I don't disagree with you—it is an uncomfortable subject, and for those lucky enough to have it be merely a vague notion of something I'm going to have to deal with "one day", very few people really do know how to respond to it. But I am sorry that your condition gave you such familiarity with the subject at such a young age.
Nobody really gets terminal illness until you're either terminally ill, or right on the fringe of it. Even those of us who are one degree away from it only have the vaguest notion of it. It seems like something on the order of 30% of human prose ever written struggles with this notion of mortality [1], yet very few words are devoted to how to care about someone who is terminally ill, and even fewer on how to be there for them, providing encouragement without some kind of cheerleading. Part of this is because everyone is different, and some people really do want some of that. But my experience with it in this day is that those people are in the minority.
Thank you Pieter, for sharing your words with the world on this most personal of experiences.
[1] Totally made up statistic based on my gut feeling, so please don't bother asking for a citation.