Terry Fisher called a week ago Wednesday to inform me that his wife, Carolyn, had just passed away.  She had surgery a week earlier, developed blood clots, and they overwhelmed her heart.  I told Terry that I would consider going to her funeral.  He suggested that I might even speak.  Thankfully, though, other more appropriate arrangements were made.  Her funeral is today, and I don't have to make the trip to Ogden.

Jim Fuller came to visit two days ago.  Jim and Terry were my classmates in high school.  Jim is in terrible shape.  He has Parkinson's disease.  He's pot-bellied.  He recently survived double blood clots in his lungs.  Doctors filled the surface veins of his legs with glue.  He can barely walk.  His wife is diabetic.  His phone was frequently beeping to give a constant update on the status of her blood sugar in case an emergency was developing.

His wife, Marilyn, didn't come with him to the visit because she stayed with Chip Eardley to help and comfort her.  Chip had a stroke a couple of years ago.  She's just barely functioning.  She can't cook or do the laundry.  She gets no exercise, and can barely walk.  Kim does the cooking and the housework.  Kim is huge, pot-bellied, and can't feel his feet.  Kim was one year ahead of Jim and I in high school.

These people are all my age.  So are Deryl and Carolyn Leggett.  Carolyn recently barely survived a stint in the hospital.  I can't recall what the problem was, but Deryl expected to lose her.  She and Deryl are both diabetic.  Deryl had surgery two days ago on a broken leg, and is still hospitalized.  I believe the leg was broken by a tractor running over it.

I just turned 75.  Marjorie just turned 74.  We are both in terrific shape in comparison to our friends.  I am grateful.  We are, however, at the age when something could happen at any time.  Our health could suddenly deteriorate, or any number of other things might happen which could lead to our deaths.

I asked myself this morning how I would feel if I knew that my death was imminent or approaching.  The word that came to mind was “excited!”  I do not dread the moment of death nor what follows.  I don't look forward to the suffering that might precede it, but death holds no terrors for me.  What a blessing this is.

I am absolutely thrilled with what has happened to Marjorie in the last three months.  From July to Christmas of last year I was seeing a daily decline in her memory and mental abilities.  In August she asked me 19 times when Nathan and Leslie were to arrive.  She couldn't hang onto my answers for a minute.  On December 24^th I began giving her donepezil and memantine.  I'm careful to see that she gets it morning and evening.  She previously wasn't able to follow a recipe because she couldn't remember whether or not she'd already added an ingredient.

She's back to cooking with confidence.  She taught herself to crochet, and has finished a baby blanket for Emmy's upcoming baby.  She thought her sewing days were over because she wouldn't be able to follow a pattern, but yesterday she finished a blouse that is absolutely gorgeous.

There aren't words to describe my gratitude.  Marjorie says her turn-around is because of prayer.  I'm sure she's right.  Whether it was prayer or medications it is a blessing from the Lord.  I've never before heard of anyone being able to reverse their decline into dementia.

We are both very happy, contented, and healthy in this, our old age.  I feel blessed beyond measure.