Where there is a will, there is a way.

Tonight I'm thinking, 'death.'

It is not the variety of death where angels are singing and I'm coming up to talk to the big 'kahuna' and he's pretty pleased with what I've done and what I've become.

In the real world, however, there are some practical things that also must be taken care of that are of a more 'macabe' nature.

If you've ever had cancer or been around someone with cancer, you know what I mean.

The question of the day is, "What do you do with the body?"

There are a few options available and they mostly include cremation or burial.

I could SO NOT imagine being buried in the ground. It has always given me the biggest shutters late at night when I was first diagnosed.

I do not want ANYONE to see me after I have been declared dead on the table and the forms have been signed and I'm getting colder by the minute. :)

Without a doubt, someone who didn't like me much will be put in charge of the 'clothing' I 'might' be seen in, laying there in that damn box with my arms folded over me. (I secretly NEVER lay that way in bed ever since I was diagnosed. Call me a freak but I am so serious. If I wake up and I'm laying like that, I IMMEDIATELY turn over....)

Anyways, back to the story at hand.....

I wake up sweating thinking that someone would bury me in a dress. Lavendar and up to the damn neck is what I would put my money on.

My hair would probably be blown straight and I would resemble Stephanie Powers. The real me would have the 'she hasn't brushed her curly hair in a week and oh yeah, she's irish' kinda look but I cannot see that happening.

I sat down recently and made a will to 'prevent' from happening what I've described about.

I spelled out what should be done and when. (I did the 'go big or go home' thing again and did a living will as well as one for when I'm 'DONE'. hahaha)

Cremation is in my future and its written in ink as of most recently.

There will also NEVER come a day where I am on life-support obviously losing the battle I'd vowed so hard to fight.

Sometimes we lose the battles we choose to fight. It does NOT make us quitters though. We all have our time when we know we are 'done'. We've fought the fight and we fought it hard but the time has come. (.....the walrus said...C.S. Lewis.....I could not resist)

An old wives tale says that 'if you write your will, your days are numbered.'

Who cares really?

Arn't all of our days numbered really anyways?

Don't I have a 'wee bit' of an advantage knowing that I might die from cancer so I get a chance to do it right the 'first' time?

We all shy away from talking about death as if it were some sort of 'taboo' and yet, we will ALL go through it.

I would much rather just be thrown out of the back of a 'ford f350' into a country field where the coyotes would not be hungry for a few days.

Screw having to pay for someone to burn me. EWWWW....