Obligatory post on the fact that neither my life nor yours will go on forever

I'm not going to die. Or perhaps I should say, I won't be the only one to die. Most likely, under ordinary circumstances, everyone will die somehow at sometime, and I too. I'm more certain of this than Harold Camping was certain of the date of the Final Judgment! I've always been an extremist! It runs in the Bonner family. Dad Bonner is certain of a global government conspiracy. Brother Bonner is certain he can solve all the world's business problems. Niece Bonner is certain she needs more chickens. . . Point made.

This I use to usher in the bad news that I will probably go sooner than most my age. The doctor wasn't too optimistic when I saw him three weeks ago. Yes, I'll chug on for a few more years, and hope is that more treatments will become available as I exhaust current treatments. But current treatments are not too plenteous. My disease has metastasized, meaning that it has come back in various other parts of my body. Metastatic cancer is somewhat hard to treat, and I emphasis that “somewhat” is an understatement. Fortunately, I have no symptoms, no pain, no distressing annoyances associated with having large masses invade my body. The only side effect of hearing this news is some disheartenment, which does not last long, and does not come often.

This prompts my thinking on death, for which none would fault me, and all should thank me. I shall try not to write too frequently on this subject. But I thought it important to get it out there since it is the present reality. To emphasize, I present you again with the fact that all will die. You can't exclude yourself, and only for a little while can you avoid thinking about it. So go ahead and think about it. The least it can do you is good.

The next more pleasant topic: I don't fear death. Why? Because death has been conquered. Death has no more sting. Death has nothing in it for me to fear. “To die is gain”. Do you see my black cloak, my nails and hair died jet black? No. I don't speak as some depressed, headbanging, blood obsessed goth. My hope doesn't lie in the treasures I have on earth. Certainly I love my family, my dog, and all my valuables. But they aren't everything to me, and I don't mind leaving them behind (I do plan to use Latin dancing in heaven – I'm sure it will be a useful skill). Other than that, though, I'm not to obsessed with what I have here. You probably know why I speak in such a way. If you don't, please ask. I'm happy to give an account for my hope.

Ah, I was going to leave you with a reenactment, as promised in previous short post. Here's how a bad visit with the oncologist goes:

Enter Doctor

Doc: How's your energy been? Any problems sleeping? And your appetite?. . . .

Doctor pauses, hesitantly

Doc: These are just my usual questions I ask. . .

Adam: (Interrupting) No they're not. Usually you come in and immediately tell me my scans are clear. . .

Here's how it usually goes, and how it was supposed to go:

Enter Doctor

Doc: Adam, your scans are clear!

Adam: Great doc.

Doctor Examines patient

Exeunt Adam and Doctor