Not done yet

When I was young, a child, the view I saw was the Cypress Mountain amidst a sky of blue. I always associated that blue with my dad’s Nova. It was sky blue. It was also a car he seem to have been proud to own. So I wondered how he felt when he had to get a cheap second hand green Pontiac to replace it in the late 1980’s.

When I was growing up, I often thought about my life ahead of my time. It worried me. When I was still in elementary school, I saw at my desk in my room and looked out the window. My view was very limited, but I could see a part of Cypress Mountain and little of Grouse Mountain. I often thought what high school would be like and what life would be life after high school. It terrified me.

Of course, life went on and I went through high school. It wasn’t a nice period of my life. I was bullied from as early on as my elementary school years, to as far as into grade 10. However, I never felt like I was a victim because I always stood up for myself, even when they tried to put me down. This pissed many of them off, but I didn’t care.

Life always felt like it fit for me up until 2009. From that moment onward, I felt that something had changed in ‘the system’. It felt like the heavens gave me my freedom and left the elements of choice in my own hands. While I ‘made mistakes’ through life prior to that, from that moment onward, the mistakes I made felt doubly more bothersome. Which eventually affected my mood and the other aspects of my psyche.

Since early 2014, I have learned and conditioned myself to calm down, but I felt it was already a bit too late. I wasn’t sure at the time, but I just felt like things were already too late.

Today is 2016, May 6th. It’s a Friday. I have pain in my right abdomen, with elevated liver enzymes. I feel light headed since Tuesday night, after a hot flash. I feel lethargic since.

Since half a year ago, I constantly thought to myself, “I only want one thing: to not have a terminal illness.” Over the last six months, I have repeatedly told myself:

– I hope it’s not terminal.
– I hope it’s just IBS.
– I hope it’s something that is treatable.
– Even if it’s not curable, at least I hope it’s not terminal.
– I don’t want to leave things partially done.
– How should I move responsibility over to someone else to look after my projects?

Many other things have gone through my head too:

– Blogging my day-to-day thoughts.
– Make videos addressed to my wife Amber.
– Create letters for my parents to read afterwards.
– How to responsibly pass instructions on to close down my accounts and move websites appropriately.
– Things I want to tell various people in my life in a way that they will understand.

However, regardless of all of these things, I am:

– Not afraid of death.
– A bit stressed about Rudi’s journey coming here.
– Worried that Amber’s flight is delayed because of the Lufthansa strikes.

The one thing though that keeps being repeated in my head is:

– I hope I can last long enough for Amber to come here.

I know this sounds like I am over thinking, even without the test results, even without the specialist yet, but I can feel it. It’s not something that just happened over night. It’s something that has been happening for four years and it got worst recently.

“Am I dying soon?”

The thing is, I ‘knew’ this was happening sooner than later. I knew it when I was that child, looking out at Cypress Mountain afraid of living life. The sad thing is, my mom holds it all inside of her.

“Will she have to bury her own son, before her own time comes?”

Prior to this and the last blog entry, I had another post up that I unpublished soon after I published it. I read it once over after I published it and decided to unpublish it because it made me tear up harder than ever.

It isn’t so much that I don’t want to leave things behind or that I am afraid of leaving. It is less about me and more about others. My mom had a lot of hope and my wife went through so much. If this is the end of my journey, then I feel sad for my mom who put her entire hope on me. I also feel sad for my wife for having such a shitty life, to find me through billions internet entities and thousands of kilometers away.

We’ve been married for two years and eight months and I have seen her for two years and eight months in person. Skype can only go so far. Yet if this is indeed terminal, what bad timing this is. The heavens are punishing me for a crime I did in a past life? The butterfly effects of something that happened somewhere, now hitting me hard with a hurricane of uncertainty, stress and pain? But why are my parents and my wife punished in the process?

Maybe I am just a platform, a launch pad for people to leap off of into greater and better things? Sometimes, I think my death would bring about a series of changes in people. Andy would no longer be held back and just go into a company that will make him grow fast. My partners in Bang can find someone that is more technologically suited for their projects. My friends will have less of another burden. There is a nearly insignificant strain on the tax payers for my health and welfare for the years to come.

But what about my mom and my wife?

My wife is going to live in Canada, a completely foreign nation with my parents who they will have met for the first time next Wednesday. The only familiar thing she has is our dog Rudi. Is this just me passing off my responsibilities to my wife, who will then take care of my parents, as I ‘retire’ early from life?

I need to go back to bed.

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