Listen to Elaine speak this entry.
I probably have a year to live. This time last year I had two years to live. This time next year I might be in the ground or frailly existing a yellow, swollen bellied skeleton, literally a shadow of my former self. â€œLiving and yet not living, dying and yet not dying.â€
Though the worst of the anger has subsided, I havenâ€™t and still canâ€™t accept it. Everyone thinks I am being so brave but they donâ€™t know Iâ€™m still screaming internally at the injustice of it all. Itâ€™s not fair, itâ€™s not fair, itâ€™s not fair.
Apart from my maternal grandmother who died tragically young at the age of 37 from breast cancer and my parents who died unnecessarily of suicide and manslaughter at the ages of 38 and 37; at 55 I shall be the youngest person in my extended family to die so young. Why even 21 stone Uncle Cyril, with his 40 a day habit, 6 pints night and penchant for fried food at every meal lived until he was 67. Whereas never smoking, vegetarian, 40 laps of the swimming pool daily isnâ€™t even going to live as long as the average Glaswegian male.
I am trying to die â€œgracefullyâ€ I canâ€™t help these waves of anger and injustice which engulf me whenever I see a smoker or a person I know whoâ€™s lived a dissolute life.