My uncle had two stints put in his heart last week or the week before. My other uncle died of a heart thing. My grandpa on my mom’s side also died–twice–from a heart attack. The second one they couldn’t bring him back from.
My dad is going in today to have electricity shot through his heart in an effort to scar it in such a way that it deadens the electrical impulses that are causing one of his valves to misfire.
He is dying. His heart will kill him. I’m trying to wrap my head around that. I haven’t even begun to process that this is how I’m going to go. I always thought it would be pneumonia.
So much of life is deeply stupid. And hard. And in the end, we all die. And yet, we seem to do what we can to make it worse and harder, to make sure that other people suffer. And for what? It doesn’t get us out of death.
There’s no sacrifice you can make that lets you stay here. And, when this is the human condition, I’m not sure why you’d want to.
But I hate watching him miserable. I’m sad.
And I’m pissed that it’s come to this and they’re still so far away from everyone.