“Let those who thoughtfully consider the brevity of life remember the length of eternity.” Thomas Ken
When you are struggling to breathe, life’s troubles distill into one simple matter. Thinking of anything else becomes impossible, as I learned when I faced my own mortality.
The wildfire smoke that obliterated summer’s glory triggered my mild asthma. I’d successfully ignored my affliction for years. It didn’t trouble me much—perhaps a touch of breathlessness on a hike, a sensitivity to altitudes, the inability to tolerate oven cleaners. That all changed when my reaction to the previous year’s wildfire smoke landed me in the emergency room. This repeat made it clear that continuing to live in denial could deliver a death sentence.
On low-air-quality days, I lost the ability to perform usual tasks. Cleaning the house, cooking, and doing laundry lay beyond my grasp. I couldn’t focus to write. My social media profiles languished, as did dealing with emails. I made a few feeble attempts at promoting my books but couldn’t keep it up. Thankfully, they held up on their own during my illness. I gave up putting together my author newsletter, but not without a pang of regret. I love connecting with readers.
The herbal treatments my naturopathic doctor prescribed helped me through the rough period until the wildfire smoke receded. It’s mostly gone now, and I’m no longer short of breath. My strength returns a little more each day. I’ve almost returned to a full schedule. My husband and I are discussing how to safeguard my health next summer.
Slipping back into life-as-usual should be easy. And yet, it isn’t. An awareness of the brevity of life walks with me now.
Hovering a belabored breath away from the end of life changes a person. I’m more aware of time passing and the need to redeem it. I wouldn’t call such a traumatic experience a blessing, and yet it drew my attention to something I needed to notice.
During my illness, it was like the world went on singing my favorite song without me. But like Shae in DawnSinger, I have a song to give. The brevity of life catches up to us all. One day death will silence my voice in this world (and add it to a different chorus). Until then, as long as I have breath, I will sing.
