In most cases death comes slowly so there is time to prepare; weakness, sickness, diagnosis, downhill slide and death. In most cases there is time to prepare; but not in all.
Keith and Anne rent a house from me. Anne has been feeling sick as of late but wasn’t sure if it was diet, a cold or just a phase she was passing through. She even saw a doctor without diagnosis some weeks ago. This past weekend she was in bed and asked Keith to bring her Tablet to her so that she had something to do. He climbed the stairs to her room bringing her the computer. Within minutes her eyes rolled back into her head and she was gone.
I remembered Tricia Lott Williford and the story she’s lived;
“I can't... I can't... I can't.... slow down. I can't slow down.... my... breathing.... I can't..."
"Oh, God. Oh, God. I'll call 9-1-1. I'm calling 9-1-1, baby. It's okay. It's okay."
I speed dialed my mom: "Mom. I'm calling 9-1-1. Come for the boys. Hurry."
I dialed 9-1-1.
"9-1-1. What is your emergency?"
I scrambled through my dresser drawers, throwing on clothes as I spoke. "My husband. My husband. He has Influenza A, and he cannot breathe. Please send help. Please send help. Please help me."
"Of course, Ma'am. What is your address?"
As I told her, I saw him fall off the bed into a heap on the floor. I screamed to him. I screamed to her. I screamed. "Please! Please help me! He's not conscious! Please help me now!!"
Once in a while, a rare great while, comes the sickness and the diagnosis—and the praise, “The chemo is doing what it’s supposed to do, praise God.” These are the words of my friend Forrest whose battle with cancer is proceeding positively.