Kevin's post and article reminded me of something I didn't talk about much at the time.
At the beginning of May I was bitten by a squirrel.
I went through the logic.
Rabies shot isn't a shot; it's a dozen in fatty tissue, makes you so sick it's a week in the hospital. I had just started a new job. I hate needles, and I hate being alone, and I especially do not care for being alone and ill.
And besides. Squirrels can carry rabies, but there hasn't been a case in Illinois for more than 50 years. And the squirrel was young, healthy, and just in shock from being clipped by a car. (I was holding it. Only moderately foolish; I am used to handling rodents. But I was wearing a sweater, and claws and sweaters are like velcro; shaking my arm only made it clamp down - with everything - until I flailed it to the ground. I had control of the situation for five minutes before a moment's inattention lost it. That's how the best of them go down. No shame there.)
So there was nothing to worry about.
Symptoms within 3 days, if any. And once you become symptomatic, you're gonna die.
But there was nothing to worry about.
Ha.
It was a long three days; four, just to be sure. Only three people knew, none of them family; they would worry more and that would worry me more. Managed to keep my mind calm after the first day and a half, but wasn't totally at ease until it had been a week; what if I missed the symptoms?
I knew what I'd do. Post asking everybody to tell my family about me. Arrange for somebody to take my animals. Tell them who to give some of my ceramic work to. Tell a few people that I love them, even though the relationship wasn't there yet. See a couple of beloved friends. Go be with my immediate and extended family. Die.
Dying, I found, is not a big worry. Dying painfully and alone - that would bother me. People talk about regrets. No regrets here. I was as good as dead; it occured to me, getting out of my car, that it would be fitting to die now; I'd experienced so much; hadn't gotten "there" but was so close, and so far ahead of the curve; it was a full life; incomplete, but full.
But I'm not dead. And I have the scars to prove it.
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4 comments:
Most glad to know that the rumors of your demise are greatly exaggerated.
Seriously, very glad that the squirrel wasn't rabid, and that you have no fear of death. Why should anyone fear taking off the body for a while?
I thought I was dying once -it felt O.K. -just like drifting off to sleep.
Jon; there have been rumors! Why didn't I think of starting some? I'm glad, too; things have gotten better since then. Death might just be trading one set of problems for another; given uncertainty, I'd as soon keep my own and work this way, until a natural death forces the issue.
Rob; were you sick? Or just thinking? (I've had some rather absurd fantasies where I'd have been unsurprised if I died in my sleep... generally I still just went to sleep, and gladly.)
I would like to direct the reader's attention to a really lovely comment on death that Larry made in response to this post. Larry, I still deeply appreciate it.
I was sick!
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