5 Stages I Went Through After A Terminal Diagnosis
Death, much like Santa Claus, is coming to town but in my case he's rather early.
I am going to die.
Of course you'll die too, in fact we will all die - it's just the way of things. Yet the difference is I have a timetable, a death clock, and it's been ticking since 2013. Soon my time will be up and I'll bet that compared to most of you, my fancy mortal coil shoe-shuffle will be performed before your final departure dance.
At some point I'll eat a last meal, use the toilet for the last time, enjoy a last night's sleep and finally take a last breath. Not necessarily at the same time.
However, with that terrible disclosure comes a remarkable level of freedom; freedom to enjoy any remaining time without being anxious of everyday worries like a bad hair day, petty arguments with friends, paying silly bills or attending awkward family gatherings at Christmas. You are fearless and it's a freedom beyond anything you could imagine - it makes you... immortal!
Of course I'm not immortal, as my USA hospitals bills can prove, and so I did indeed go through the various throes of emotion that's often described in books, movies and television. Those five stages; denial, anger, bargaining, depression and ultimately acceptance. It's worth noting that these feelings don't come in a linear fashion, choosing instead to dart from one sensation to another at the bipolar whim of time and space.
But I did experience them in my own unique way - so let's countdown the five traditional stages I went through after being told the rather bad news of imminent death.
5. Denial. Not Just A River In Egypt.
My denial formed itself into total and utter refusal to accept the status quo. I don't mean that I chose to rock back and forth in a corner lamenting my life. No, I left the hospital and went to the pub and played pool with some mates then I went home.
I didn't tell anyone including my wife, I didn't cry or go to church looking for salvation. I didn't do anything unusual and I awoke the next day and got some work done and had lunch. In fact I didn't go back to the hospital for my follow up, didn't finish my treatment at that time (including the lovely chemo, which is definitely worse then people tell you).
My denial manifested itself into complete and deliberate ignorance of my plight. It was like the last few days just didn't exist and that my doctor delivering the news was on some TV soap. The god-awful situation was always there mind you, gnawing at me, pleading with me to do... something; scream, shout, wail like a baby but I did none.
It's quite the most remarkable feeling, denial. Absolute refusal to accept something so significant despite being very consciously aware of it. I just tabled it for another day.
It was future Vynny's problem and present day Vynny went about his business as usual.