In the Moment

THE DOCTOR’S TONE WAS GENtle, but his expression was serious. “If you keep going at this rate, you’ll have only another two years left,” he said. “You have to slow down.”

It was a few days into 2018. I had just awoken from a coma in the ICU. My third in two years. I was strapped to the bed with a ventilator tube down my throat. I couldn’t move my arms. Couldn’t speak. His words sank in.

I had done everything the doctors asked. As hard as it was to give up a 40-year, pack-a-day habit, I had quit smoking. I had worked on pulmonary rehabilitation techniques and mindfulness. But it wasn’t enough. I thought of my daughter, Kathleen, pregnant with her first child. I’d been praying for a grandchild for a long time. She’d recently told me she and her husband were having a boy. Tears welled in my eyes. I was only 62. Would I live long enough