We all have them. Memories we don't want to remember...but do. One of my worse I remember is the day I told the doctors I wanted to die, and I was serious! The ambulance had taken me to the hospital because I was having a respiratory exasperation. I've had them before. In fact, this was the 3rd time this month I was in ER because of it. But this time was so much worse.
Now I love my sons immensely and will do anything possible so they do not have to suffer or experience deep sorrow. I know. It's part of life and I shouldn't try to shield my children from it but it's the parent in me that doesn't want to see them hurt. My youngest son wasn't even 13 yet and the other was almost 24. That previous summer we had experienced the sorrow when our life-long pet dog had died, but how do you prepare them for your own death?
But I was gasping for air. It was taking every little bit of strength I had just to inhale one tiny, little, wisp of air. And again, every ounce of strength I had to exhale a short puff of air. I clearly could not breath and was suffering more so than ever before. I was getting weaker and weaker and profusely miserable and getting worse every minute. I'd like to think the doctors had everything in control but I didn't see it. I'll never forget the moment the words came out of my mouth; "I want to die. Please, help me. I can't take it any longer. I just want to die!" I was scared. I chose dying as being less painful than seeing my boys suffer.
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