BEFORE THE PERFECT STORM OF ILLNESSES.

     In the beginning of my youthful years in which I never thought far enough ahead to realize they would someday leave me, I was of the foolish notion that they would never end. Simply because the last years of my life seemed so far away to waste time thinking about it.
     I glided through each year day by day, and although I lost friends along the way to accidents and illnesses, it never happened to me. Sometimes I wondered if for some unknown purpose, I was being kept immune from all that stuff. Why not me?
     Although I saw other friends injured or killed in accidents, I was always the witness and not a participant. My second oldest son for example, climbed aboard an offroad motorbike at the age of 17 after being asked by me to not do it. He had never been on one before in his life, but he did it anyway and it resulted in him hitting a house, smashing his head in and setting off a chain of disastrous events that, later in his life would haunt him and eventually kill him by means of a brain tumor at the age of 49. The doctors determined it was that very serious accident that started the benign growth. But I went on, thinking why not me?
      I had two friends along the way who loved to drive their cars on 2 wheels around sharp, dangerous curves and with whom I rode many times when they did. They both died in separate accidents at different times. I wasn't there both times. Why not me?
     I took more than my share of chances in my life, but always came away unscathed. I worked in the hard rock mines for three years in Butte Mont. in 1963, '64 and '65 alongside my older brother John, and although I had a partner killed in an explosion, I came away uninjured throughout those dangerous years. I saw others injured, but not me!
     Sometimes I paused to wonder again, why not me?
     In 1987, I lost my oldest son at the age of 30 to a deadly encounter with the Hell's Angels in Cranbrook, B.C. Canada. They robbed him of his prescription Demerol for his arthritic knees. They murdered him. No one was ever charged. But I went on, wondering, why not me?
     Then at the age of 73, I decided it was time for me to find a doctor of my choice and have a general checkup. I had been treating myself for mild Diabetes over the past years but suspected nothing else. It was discovered I had stage 2 prostate cancer and radiation was administered for the next four months with the latest in cancer treatment technology. The treatment has proven to be successful. Approximately three weeks after the treatments concluded, I was affected by dizziness and after being treated at the Skagit Valley Emergency Room, it was determined I had 4 four major blockages in my aorta and heart. Three total and one 90%. After considering the seriousness and the delicate condition of my veins. I was transferred to Providence Hospital where I received stents to correct the condition. That also seems to have worked. Eight months after and just two weeks ago, I awoke having to go to the bathroom and to my surprise discovered my colon had released a heavy amount of blood. 8 days followed, during which time I came dangerously close to passing on. They were simply having a hard time keeping me supplied with blood to keep up with the amount I was losing. I have gradually recovered with the determination that I am afflicted by Diversiticulitis. A thinning of the sidewall of the lower bowel. (Colon). Treatment will continue as I speak. But now the question arises in a different respect. Why not me?   Just sayin'.