Not knowing one is supposed to die.

My Alzheimer-riddled friend Ron refuses to die. Doesn’t matter that he’s got a broken neck. Surgeons fused the break together today. And they expect Ron to recover. Physically, that is. He’s an 86-year-old wonder.  His vital signs are like those of a teenager. If Ron didn’t have Alzheimer’s, he’d probably live to 100. I was a pessimist. Thinking that Ron’s number was up. No way would he survive the delicate surgery. But what do I know?  Not much, apparently.  I also assumed that Ron wanted to die. But his primary care-givers, daughter Julie and son-in-law Rick, have always thought otherwise. They say that Ron instinctively craves for life. No matter the difficult and painstaking circumstances. Could be, they are right. And that Ron has learned to live with Alzheimer’s. That it’s better than being dead. Indeed, a hard concept for me to fully buy into. But then, maybe that’s an advantage that comes with Alzheimer’s. Not knowing that one is supposed to die. –Jim Broede