Farewell

Saying goodbye and thank you to your hosts is just good manners. So, any reader who stumbled across me over the years, consider this that. ~Duane Dudek

Henry Sheppard
circa 1988

That time has come for me, as it must for all. Over the last ten years I have struggled with declining health. Included on the roster of my enemies have been asthma, diabetes, leukemia and eczema. I have had 24 separate operations for skin cancer, not counting hundreds of applications of nitrogen spray. I cough almost constantly.
   I haven't been able to sleep lying down for months; lying down triggers more coughing. What sleep I do get is taken while sitting upright in an armchair. Or while dozing in front of the computer.
   I stopped going for checkups with the oncologist years ago. If I'm out of remission now, I won't be going through chemotherapy a second time. Once was enough.*

I'm not complaining. I consider I've been blessed. Knowing that my time is coming to an end is a gift. I know so many who died suddenly; no time to put things right before departing.
   Over recent years, I have used the mornings to publish this blog. It's been fun. I've met so many delightful people! Thank you one and all.
   But now I need the mornings for other things.
   When I first learned about the leukemia and the chemotherapy, I prayed for five more years. That passed in September 2012. Everything since has been a bonus.
   When I completed chemotherapy and learned I was in remission, I set myself to do as much as I could, as well as I could, for as long as I could. I tried to be helpful. My apologies for all the things I am leaving incomplete. And my thanks to everyone who befriended me via this blog.

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* Ah, such brave words! The reality is that once the discomfort of the symptoms outweighs your horrible memory of the treatment, you buckle under. I started chemotherapy (take 2) in September 2015 and graduated in January 2016. The leukaemia is in remission, but the damage to my bone marrow almost outweighs the gain.