The Benefits of Being Dead

I’ve never been afraid of death. Dying, maybe. Because how can we know in what fashion we’ll shuffle off this mortal coil? Trite, right? Sigh… If my death is sudden and tragic, I hope that it is at least interesting. Something like “Woman Struck by Cow on Bike” (I’m on the bike, not the cow, but a cow on a bike would make it much more interesting). But actually being dead, I imagine it is utterly peaceful. My life is full of stress. It goes something like this:

  • Insulin pumps
  • Needles
  • Deficiency injections 
  • Needles
  • Glucose monitors (2 kinds)
  • Needles
  • Medication
  • Needles
  • Carb counting 
  • Needles

I’ve been afraid of needles puncturing my skin since my inaugural cognizance. It’s like some genetic fear (thanks mom). But more realistically, it probably came about with my early rounds of vaccines.

And then there are all the “normal” things like I just found out I’m losing my job (very small chance that I might not but all signs point to yes) and the pay cut I’ll have to take transferring to another part of the company, threatening my ability to make my mortgage payment. Family members with health issues. We’re still in a pandemic, of course. And I have the MOST obnoxious neighbor who seems to enjoy harassing my dogs with a whistle that I want to relocate to a darker, more hidden destination than her lips. 

So, let’s talk about the benefits of being dead. Don’t mistake my intrigue for a desire to die. Suicidal thoughts are extreme and serious and terrible. And anyone experiencing them needs and deserves help to deal with them. I’m talking about the peace that I expect will one day come and my curiosity about it. It goes something like this. 

  • Complete, deep, restful sleep. Forever.
  • A place where I can spend time disease free with my pups (and a groovy cat) that went before me.
  • A place where I can visit with friends and family that preceded me.
  • Pups and family and that cat are all pain and disease free. 
  • Never needing tampons or having to pay $4 per gallon for gas again. Because if transportation is needed, I’ll be riding that bike. It’s not like my legs are going to get tired when I’m dead.

At the very least, it will be calm and dark, I won’t have to wake up to check my blood sugar, and my neighbor won’t be blowing that damn whistle. 

Tell me that doesn’t sound wonderful.

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