It’s the day I’ll be the exact same age as my dad when he died.
I figured out the date 10 years ago. It’s been on my work bulletin board ever since.
Now it’s less than a year away, 47 weeks to be exact.
It’s not a day to worry about, just be aware of.
Maybe I’ll take off.
Maybe I’ll go fishing at a nearby lake at the dam, a place where the turmoil of the released water churns up choppy white waters until finally slowing to a gentle roll farther downstream.
Maybe the day itself will feel like that. I don’t know.
Is it any coincidence my thyroid is acting up now? Possibly the beginning of a hypothyroid with a plausible diagnosis of Hashimoto Thyroiditis.
That’s what’s on my dad’s death certificate. The doctors tell me Hashimoto’s doesn’t cause death.
Continue reading April 4, 2024