When I was first diagnosed, I feared death.  My busy head filled with ideas of bargaining and attempting to finagle my way out of it.  I was focused on doing what is necessary to put that thing off. The idea of going on a ventilator, etc.?  I’m tough, I will fight to do whatever it takes, I’m going to go on for a good while.

My thinking has changed.  Truly becoming incapable of accomplishing things, no matter how hard you try, changes things.  Plus, time to mentally evolve changes things.

The things I now fear are losing control,  losing independence, losing the things I enjoy, becoming a burden, losing the ability to choose the end.

Perhaps one of the most pressing problems on my mind is the prospect of overwhelming my wife, Mary, tiring her out, or the sad, nagging idea in my head that she would have been better off to not have fallen in love with me.   Death has actually fallen mostly off the radar.