Thoughts on Mortality

November 25, 2001

by Charles E. Perry

The Friday night before Thanksgiving, I found myself pretty much unable to
breathe. Just sitting, I’d have to gasp for air. The feeling had been building for a few days, and I thought it was pneumonia, which I get at least once a year. I did the wise thing and called for an ambulance. Not the first time I’ve had to do that, either.

On the ride to the hospital, it became obvious to me that, whatever it was, it wasn’t pneumonia. I heard comments about my EKG looking odd, and they asked some question about heart disease in the family history. From watching TV, I knew that some of the drugs they were giving me were specific for a heart attack. Strangely enough, despite the fact that I knew I could die on the ride in, I was calm and accepting of whatever was going to happen.

There’s a reason for that. Some people will read this and scoff, and probably call me a superstitious fool, but I feel sorry for them. You see, they’re missing out on the single greatest source of courage available to mankind: faith. I wasn’t alone in that ambulance. Standing beside me, unseen, was the presence of my Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ. He was there to welcome me with open arms if it was my time to go home, and to lend me strength to get through the trial I faced if my time here wasn’t up yet. Laugh all you want, the ambulance crew was amazed that I joked with them as they worked on me.

As it turned out, it wasn’t a heart attack. It was Congestive Heart Failure, compounded by degenerative lung disease. There’s no doubt at all, I was still close to death. But the fear of death was missing, and that helped. There’s no cure for what I have, but it’s managable. I have to limit my fluid intake and go on a fat and salt free diet. There are now pill bottles on my desk with the drugs I now have to take. I’ll get through this too. Faith does that for you.

Anyhow, while I was in the hospital I engaged in my favorite vice of writing poetry. I don’t usually inflict my poetry on people, but this one I will:

When my last hour is over,
when I’ve fought my last good fight,
when you’ve laid me in my sepelchure,
this on my tombstone write:

I have conquored my Mount Everest,
my Trojan wanderings done.
I have danced upon the hillsides,
I have soared beyond the sun.
I take my rest, not striving
to live a longer time,
for I know that I’m but passing
to a more congenial clime.

We all die, folks. Some of us die comforted. Faith, learn its benefits.

_________________________________________

Charles E. Perry is a freelance writer living in Michigan. He has done a variety of things in his life, including Ward Supervisor at the State of Michigan's Maximum Security Mental Facility. His degree is in accounting, but he discovered writing and now spends his time hunched over a keyboard, hollow-eyed, looking for just the right word. Perry is the author of "How Government Should Work: A Look at the Federalist Papers and the Constitution of the United States," currently pending publication.

Send the author an E mail at Perry@ConservativeTruth.org.

For more of Charlie's articles, visit his archives.