The hype about Krukenberg tumours aka fibrosarcoma ovarii mucocellulare carcinomatodes (for those of you who know about my fascination with latin) is all over facebook and the chat rooms, but it is not this that actually bothers me.
The time is now 10.30pm, 6 1/2 hours after we finished our last paper, and I lie here on my bed pondering where time how the time has gone past so quickly... It hasnt felt like 6 1/2 hours.
Neither has it felt like 2 1/2 years... with each passing minute the realisation that my time here is about to end haunts me. It is as though Lou Gehrig's is slowly paralyzing me leg upwards, letting me know that death is near at hand, but taking it's time to slowly crawl up to my lungs, where it will suffocate me. Thus, as each day passes, so too am I reminded of my limited time left here (currently 44 days).
And yet, as though one prepared to die, prepared to "go to the Father's house"- a vision of heaven awaits. I too have to admit that I do have some sense of joy to be going home, to be amongst my friends and family once again... in a familiar environment, doing the things I have enjoyed doing since my childhood days, eating at my favourite stalls, visiting my favourite sites...
Oh well, quoting Cicero:
“Saepe ne utile quidem est scire quid futurum sit”
...it may not be wise sometimes to know the future
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