to wilt so beautifully it could break your heart ❤️

There's poetry in this post. I hope I can face dying with such clear-eyed curiosity and compassion when death comes seeking me.

As much as I appreciate your eloquence and candor Ronni, boy does this fill me up with sad feelings. You can say you’ve led a good life, and a reasonably long one, but the older I get the more I see that few believe they’ve lived long enough.

Don’t want you to be in pain, but I hope 6 months from now you’ll be shaking your head in wonder and blogging you can’t believe you’re still here, but stranger things have happened.

I read your column faithfully, but have nothing helpful to add. I don't have the ability to write that most of your readers have, as you can see. I hope I'm not over stepping by my comments, but here goes. I saw an interview with Senator Harry Reid, who has pancreatic cancer also. He talked about a new trial to fight the disease. A new medicine only available if everything else has been tried. Senator Reid believes it has made all the difference at this time. I just wanted to be sure you knew about this. I think of you often, and wish you the best.

"Now? Really?" Oh, Ronni, that is so you. Love it. Don't love what you are going through.

Usually, I think we should complain to those who can do something about it; but, there are limits to the applicability of my thinking, dying being one of the subjects that is obviously exempt.

More hugs to you - soft ones, virtual ones that are not painful.

So beautifully put, Ronni.

But then again, I pondered, given some time to prepare and write about the inevitable is a great gift indeed and I believe you are so very much aware of that.

Taken suddenly, like many of my friends, leaves a more massive void. No time for their self-reflection on their lives, just a quick diagnosis followed by death a few weeks later.

You lead the way in showing us the process you are experiencing and sharing it so generously.

XO
WWW

But you do have wonderful insights and pass them on in this blog all the time.

The most important is telling, showing, teaching us that dying is part of normal life. If most of us could learn that early how very different life would be on this planet.

Thank you... again and again, thank you

Wishing you more good days than not so good days! Please envision yourself in the middle of a circle, surrounded by love and caring on all sides.

Well dammit! Is the first thing that comes to mind. I so appreciate you recording your thoughts and feelings regarding end-of-life. It shouldn't be a taboo subject. You bring death and dying to life.

I wish you great moments.

I remember the grief I felt when you first told us you were dying. At that time it seemed imminent, but then you kept posting so faithfully—about your end-of-life experiences but also about other interests and happenings. Gradually I think, it started to feel like maybe you wouldn't die after all.

And now it's suddenly feeling again like you will. And I am grieving again.

I suppose in some very small way, this is a little bit like what you have been feeling these past three years. I'm not saying that as an assumption that I know how you feel; I'm saying it just to let you know that you are not completely alone.

Thank you for sharing your journey—your whole journey—with us.

Not to be flippant but it must be how young children feel when they're being sent to bed while everyone else is still sitting around chatting and having fun. Or being collected from a party by your dad when you're thirteen and he's stricter about schoolnight entertainment than everyone else's dad. Or having to return a fantastic book to the library without being able to quite get to the end, so you end up never knowing whodunit. Always too early. I hope you find the acceptance and, if possible, the joy you're hoping for.

Ronnie, I can't put in words how much your posts mean to me. You inspire me every day to remember to enjoy each moment of the precious time we have on this earth. You have such a wonderful way with words that express feelings so beautifully.
Hugs, Diane

I don’t have much to add, but I do want to write something to you, Ronni. I’ve been about six years now reading your posts. You are the only blog I’ve held onto. I’ve tried others even some people I totally agree with on political matters, etc. But yours is the only one I look forward to and have stayed with. Always have loved your interesting stuff on Saturday too.I read you all the time, but seldom make a comment. I’ve probably commented three maybe six times. Today’s post is so moving. Beautifully written, and poetic, as others have said. I thank you deeply. I’m 80 and doing OK for the most part. I try to be as healthy as I can, but I don’t always reach my goals. Sometimes, I seldom reach them. Thank you. I’ve loved at all.

After reading this, I can hardly breathe. Having recently turned 75, with several health issues and a near death experience with a blood clot in January, I find myself thinking about dying frequently. I don't like doing it. I want to push it from my mind - from my life! I am afraid. But recently, I am starting to make peace with it. Knowing I am getting closer to the time I will die has changed my way of looking at life. So much that was important, or on my wish list, is gone. Now, I wish for days where I am a good person and have some value. I take pleasure in the simplest things...... usually Nature and love of my cat. Your article, like so many of them, has made me think and feel. Today's ... I am in awe of your honesty, amazed by your courage and saddened beyond words.

I admire the way you seize the day, no matter that the day is not all you would choose. Then you share your reflections, in spite of the difficulties in doing so. Reaching for the right words and arranging them for the most powerful impact are not easy things to do. Yet you persist. I "watch" you with interest, feel your struggles in my heart and want so much to ease your journey, as I'm sure we all do.

What a gift you are to us!
Thank you from my most grateful heart.

It's hard to read beneath your comments here. Some readers seem to be perceiving sadness, and if that's what you're feeling, I'm hoping it's not constant. Psychic pain can be as bad as (or worse than) the physical. There's at least almost always something to relieve the physical, and so little that can be done for the other.

But maybe it's not so much sadness behind your words as acceptance of the inevitable. As Linda has mentioned, maybe another mushroom suggestion would be helpful. Or maybe you just prefer to experience what you're feeling with consciousness and awareness that it's a natural part of the process. Miserable, but natural.

Whatever you're feeling, again I wish you as much relief as you want and need. Stoicism is highly over-rated. I never had much use for the "that which doesn't kill us makes us stronger" philosophy.

Mentally sending you sunbeams in which you can sit for a bit and soak up their radiance.

Beautifully written, so sad and so powerful. So dignified in its honesty. Brought tears to my eyes

Your comparison with a love affair reminds me that in France an orgasm is called " le petit mort" a small death, so death itself is "le grand mort." I'm not sure if that's encouraging, daft, or inappropriate! Well bugger that.
with love
o/

I am glad you can accept that prognosis. I guess you have to.
But I don't have to. Six months from now you will still be writing.

Please God, inshAllah, Yirtzeh Hashem.

Ronnie,
I don’t even recall how I found your blog @ 3 years ago, but am so thankful that I did. You are incredibly honest, courageous, curious, and a wonderful communicator.

I know you know this, but so often doctors are wrong with end of life estimates. I am an RN, and many times hospice patients dare to live beyond their 6 month time frame, and we are always happy to still have them around! Someone with your curiosity and appreciation of life certainly, hopefully, will be around to write “ What it’s like to be dying: Take 3” !

I look forward to every word you write.

Each of your blog post, Ronni, is a gift to your readers. You are so open in your feelings that you inspire us all, as this is usually a taboo subject. Knowing of your own demise gives you a special perspective that is difficult to imagine. It is easier not to know, or not wanting to know. On a 13-hour flight from Singapore to Paris once, after heavy smoke in the plane the captain told us there was a fire in the cargo and we had to attempt an emergency landing. Unfortunately we were over Afghanistan’s mountains. People started screaming. The guy next to me, who worked in the aircraft industry, told me that if we were successful in landing, the aircraft would explode on impact anyway, and just be prepared for the end. I felt just surprise and thought “is that it?” So I believe when it is a sudden event there is no time to think and prepare.

But you do know, and still share your thoughts with us. Be assured that your honesty and wisdom are valued by us all. You are making a difference in our lives. Hugs.

Absolutely! As I've said many times before, you are a writer without parallel. You're the best, and I wish more people knew about TGB. I've spread the word to the extent I can, but being an introvert without a lot of social contacts, my circle is limited.

Ah, Ronni, I hope you can 'go steady' with death for a long time, getting much pleasure in whatever time you have left! Thank you for being so 'real' with us! Thank you for your openness and your honesty. We love you dearly and will miss you so much if you go before we do. I wish you a happy celebration with us in November! Above all, I wish you serenity!

Bugger that is right! You're the one, a long time ago who said to practice using the word "old." I thought that was great then, and I think this is great now. I am so glad that you live where Death with Dignity is available to you. I'm sorry about the physical pain. And yes, the sadness..............how could you not feel that some of the time? My prayer for you is that you "be well," "go well," in the 14th century way......that whatever be your condition, your mind and soul are well.
Since the pandemic, I've been bringing up death with friends, with, of course, different responses. At least now they know it's okay to bring it up with me. You have definitely been an influence on me in this regard, and I'm ever grateful. Thich Nhat Hahn writes beautifully about birth and death being "continuances" rather than bookends.

My thoughts are with you. I hope that you can find peace and balance at this time in your journey

Dear Ronnie, Remind away...your blog, your decision. Guess if people don't want reminded of the inevitable, they can go read someone else's blog. Anyway, am praying that you find "the narrow road" (if you haven't found it already) that leads to life eternal.

It is the great joy and the great sadness of life, isn't it, how daily life goes on. It goes on regardless.

I witnessed Dad's dying process. He survived a stroke and a heart attack. Six months before he passed away, he was diagnosed with lung cancer. He was angry. And, then he was very sad. He didn't want to go. He loved music. He listened to the theme of "Chinatown" over and over and over. The dying process was not something we could share with him.

You are a terrific writer.

I hope you make it into Nov. at least.
If decency and normalization wins, you can then be at peace in your mind that America will recover from the past 4 years. It will make going easier.

And if the worst happens, you probably wouldn’t want to be alive anyway and see the further damage and destruction and just plain awfulness that will then increase.

So hang in there! Do whatever it takes!

One of the scenarios I’ve entertained is that after our death our spirit is able to see, or at least be aware of what is going on with life on earth if we choose to know. That helps satisfy one of my major laments about dying — that I would miss not getting to know what happened with certain important matters to me after I died. Of course there are other scenarios — to each his or her own.

So, the waters on which this ship floats are beginning to get a little rougher with the waves higher at times, but I’m still aboard.

Thanks for all your sharing and you know how much I have valued your writing all these years — the laughs, thoughtful ideas, moments of anger, just as friends experience, and of course, caring and affection.

I want to thank you for sharing these intimate experiences and thoughts. I admire your bravery In your candid statements about something we rarely share. That I know you is such a gift. I feel closer to you than many people I see in person. You are enriching my life and I’m so grateful for all you have written and for all that is to come. ♥️

A close friend of mines husband passed away very suddenly a few weeks ago . They were sitting on the sofa talking and he just touched his chest and said "something is not right" and then his head flopped back and he was dying. His breath became ragged and then stopped all while she was frantically calling 911 and attempting CPR. He was 63 with no previous heart symptoms.
It has devastated her because of the unexpectedness of it.

My own husband is dying slowly from congestive heart failure. It is hard to watch him decline from the once very energetic person he used to be. It is hard to watch him struggle each day just to walk across a room and have to rest every so many steps. We don't know how much time he has left. I imagine not too long due to his worsening symptoms. He is 67 years old.

I don't know which is worse. The unexpected death or the slow decline. It is all terrible for us. I pray you have peace during this difficult time and that you last longer than expected. Blessings.

What can I say that hasn't already been said. I am sorry that your body is letting you down. But glad that you can share your thoughts about all of this darkness that will soon happen when the lights go out.

I am 80, in good health, but I still think about death and how it will happen for me. What would I chose ? My younger sister just collapsed a month before her 73rd birthday and died. That would be preferable, I think, rather than lingering over several years beset by TIA's like our mother before she died from a major stroke.

Yes, I have aches and pains from arthritis, but I can keep moving, gardening, exercising. I stop more to smell the roses, both literally and figuratively, and believe me, I am grateful for all I can still manage to do. physically. You've given us all, your fans, Ronni's groupies, much to ponder. Thank you.

I am sitting here absorbing the impact of your words, "dying is my daily companion." You have such a courageous heart to both own and share this knowing with we, your fellow travelers. You continue to inspire and enlighten me...and I am forever grateful.