Thank you, Ronni, for being so open and honest about something many of us fear.

Have a sweet day Ronnie.

Thank you for sharing this journey and all its touchstones with us, your readers.

I, too, have contemplated death, knowing it will come to me eventually. When I was younger and a mother of young children, I made "deals" in my head with death: Just let me stay alive until my children don't need me anymore - then I'll go willingly. Well, either my children (and now with grandchildren!) will never stop "needing" me - hah, that's all in my head, I know ... or I am reneging on that deal. I'm not ready to go - don't know when, if ever, I will be okay with it.

I am going to continue to follow your blog, but not without trepidation. It's quite a challenge to look this in the eye, isn't it?

Any regrets?
Lots of people who lived on the "wild side" in the late 60s, early 70s are going to that big turntable in the sky these days. Many of my radio friends are gone. Several didn't want to be around to have a long life.

Especially if they couldn't practice their art form. One of my dearest friends died 3 years ago of Hep C in Florida. He couldn't adapt to not being on the radio.

You have Ronnie by embracing the internet thru your blog which many of us enjoy.

Fred from Cleveland

Your description of how you are facing your 'terminal' status and eventual death is how I hope to face my own. Good stuff here.

Perhaps as you have always done, take what joy you can from each new day.

You're in our thoughts!

Fear:
Fear is a "big one" for me also, Ronni. While my situation is not as difficult or imminent as your own, I clearly recognized the feeling you described so accurately...cold, quick and unrehearsed. I am alone so much of the time it can feel very unsettling with rapid pulse etc. My own coping method came to me as pure serendipity or plain old luck.

When I was still actively involved with teens and troubled young couples 20 years ago, I came upon this in the endless reading I was doing at the time...I regret not remembering the source. Now, while sorting and clearing old files a couple of months ago, I came across it again in a letter I had written to a frightened young man. What's that? Reaping what we sow? Karma, if Buddhist thought appeals? Just lucky, works for me. It may seem overly simplistic to some, but I never argue with success.

Now when that 'fear' feeling comes running at me, this literal 'mental trick' helps. I remember to look at the word FEAR as one of the many acronyms taking over our language today. Fantasized Expectations Appearing Real. Different for each of us, of course, but in truth, that is what fear actually is in the brain (...that aging body part supposedly running the show). It is known as an inculcated emotion. Perhaps it just alerts me to look again at the reality of the moment at hand clearly... and move forward with "whatever" I was about 5 minutes earlier. I am grateful to have re-discovered it.

Thank you a million times.

Hmmmm...apropos 'Do you think we know we have died?'. Like Darlene, my assumption is that yes, we can know that we are dying, but that once the body, including the brain, has stopped functioning, I don’t think we will ‘know’ anything. My concept of a ‘soul’ and ‘consciousness’ are that they are a function of brain function. A close relative had a ‘near death experience’, in that his heart stopped; but he was in the hospital, with medical personnel near, and a physician got his heart going again by doing chest compressions. The patient’s experience of that period was just of being ‘gone’…no awareness…like when we faint. I worry about ‘dying’…going through the process, potentially unpleasant…but not about ‘being dead’ except what it may mean for those left behind.

Thank you Ronni for inviting us all in. "We are all terminal" doesn't cut it for me either Ronni.

In my 30's, a single mom with 2 pre-school kids, I nearly died of a servere asthma attack. After I lost consciousness I did see a white light, it started as a pin point and expanded to fill my in-my-head vision. Saw nothing else. It had been quite painful and I was terrified; then I wasn't. I was just peaceful and grateful for the relief. My experience that changed my view of death and it's still vivid after all these years. I now have lung problems that make me high risk for anything involving anesthesia but that experience allows me to be peaceful and pragmatic as I go under not that I don't still twitch the night before. I still don't wish to suffer.

Ronni will leave a lasting and great legacy which is a tremendous human accomplishment. One regret I have is that I will just depart when the time comes, with nothing of significance left behind, but it is what it is.

As far as "the conditions of dying", I've learned over the past year or two that I don't much like pain, so if my end condition is anticipated to involve a lot of that, bring on the good stuff! I'd rather go out unconscious than in serious pain.

I too have looked directly at sudden and certain death ... looking down the barrel of my own loaded handgun in the shaking hands of a drunk and deranged husband. I knew then what facing sure death felt like, and it was completely out of my hands to stop it. Fortunately, somewhere out of my frozen brain I said something to him, and I still don't know where it came from, but it brought him to a full stop. I told him very calmly that I wasn't afraid to die, which I realized at that moment that I truly wasn't, but that he should remember that he would have to face our children in the morning and explain to them why he killed their mother.

Let's give ourselves a good long phone conversation when I get off this excruciating but necessary political campaign. Thinking of you.

I can only say I wish I knew everyone in this community of yours personally, Ronni. I wish we could all get together, perhaps a few at a time, and talk and talk, and talk, and then hug. We're doing the next best thing at a distance.

I have interstitial pulmonary fibrosis. The usual drugs aren't working. I just underwent a week of tests to see if I'd be a suitable candidate to go on the waiting list for a lung transplant. If not, there is no other treatment. And if they say I am eligible, I will have to decide if I want to be on the list.

I'm not at all afraid of being dead. What matters to me is how I die. I only get to do this once.

I echo Laura's comment, ronni, and thank all who commented contributing to our group and the love we share for you.

I'm just seeing this now. Thank you for answering my question. Sorry I didn't acknowledge it sooner. I hope your palliative care people will be able to insure these your comfort all along the way.

Thank you for your candor and the example you're setting, Ronni.