What matters is living as long as you’re breathing

An older woman had a husband who was in surgery when the doctor came out and told her the prognosis wasn’t good. He suggested prayer. The woman went into the chapel, bowed her head and began praying. She told God what a good man her husband was, how much better a person he was than her.

A man like him should live longer, she said.

“So if you must take someone, Lord, don’t take him. Take the doctor.”

I first saw that cartoon — a six- or eight-panel job — sometime in the 1960s. I’m pretty sure it was the first cartoon I saw by the wonderfully funny Jules Feiffer. It was one of the first ones I remember that put a hilarious twist on a joke, for for the longest time, I searched out Feiffer cartoons when I needed a laugh.

I thought of Feiffer when I received a message from a friend the other day. I have known her for more than half a century and she is two years younger than I am.

It’s funny. I have one friendship that goes back 60 years, several that go back 50 and quite a few that go back 40. Several people I have known a very long time have died, some unexpectedly and some less so. One of the nicest things about Facebook is keeping up with so many old friends.

Anyway, this particular friend said she had been having pains in her midsection, so she went to the doctor for some tests. The doctor said she had Type 2 Diabetes, a tumor on her thyroid and … pancreatic cancer.

I didn’t need to tell her that pancreatic cancer is one of the scary ones. My paternal grandfather was diagnosed with testicular cancer at age 81, but he lived to be 89 and that wasn’t even the cause of his death.

My mother had breast cancer, but got treatment and lived more than 25 additional years.

One of my two best friends in the world was has two bouts with throat cancer but is 70 and has been successful battling it for more than 7 years.

But pancreatic cancer?

Jeez Louise.

She told me she is undergoing tests and should soon know what stage it is at and what if anything can be done.

I don’t know what my friend believes about what comes after this life. Heck, I’m not even sure what I believe sometimes.

I suppose it comes down to four basic choices, the first two involving a supreme being and the other two not.

First is the afterlife of heaven or hell. This is like Santa Claus with the naughty or nice list, the one most Americans profess to believe in. It’s also the one designed to keep people in line.

Second is reincarnation with upward or downward movement. Another be good or else choice, but one without the easy heaven or hell choice. This is one that seems to make sense in that it doesn’t require another level of reality. It might be nice to see a nasty weasel and think that it was once Donald Trump.

Third is reincarnation without reward or punishment. This would basically just be recycling.

Fourth is, well, nothing.

That’s why it matters not to live like you were dying, but to continue to live while you’re dying.

It’s why if I were in the Feiffer cartoon, I would say don’t take my friend. Take Trump.

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