My Last Visit, Never A Good Time To Die.

Somehow it doesn't terrify me like it did exactly five years ago. The sudden need for an ovarian cyst operation. I wasn't prepared for surgery, I woke up that morning not too sound but never with the thought of going through knives.
I thought it was a thing that drip could solve, a causal illness (malaria /typhoid ), and a normal cure to my constant collapsing, which was the abnormal thing that disrupted my thoughts on the cause being normality because I did it three times in one week.

Of course, no illness is causal.

Back to the story, I collapsed yet again, and when taken to the hospital was checked on, and the next thing heard was “She needs to undergo surgery now”.
We were first told it was appendicitis. A minor one.

I've been hearing the word “Operation” and I as well knew what it was all about before it got to my turn and I asked myself.. Is this how they all felt?

Since my mom refused anyone touching me before she got there, I was just seated in the ward provided to me, and all that was in my head was a question I never knew I would be asking myself that day.
The picture of my coffee was already crystal clear to my inner eyes.
Would death feel like fainting?
I remember being asked that question about how it felt to collapse. And “I don't know “ was my response because I didn't know. I didn't see or know anything other than opening my eyes to a large crowd and the pain that came after, probably from the hitting while they tried to revive me.

So, who would answer my question?
How many people would cry for me while I'm gone?
I was scared of leaving this actual world for the one beyond. It was like I was already there, not when all that I was seeing was my grave.

Notwithstanding, I opened my eyes about 10 hours later to a world I recognized and familair faces I knew. That was the one time I felt my parents love after a long time, I just needed to be wrapped up in there warmerh and they gave me that.
But in my heart of hearts, I screamed. I’m alive!
The pains were my biggest evidence.

Back to the present.
I wonder where that fear went. I mean up till this day, I hear people say.. “I would live an hundred and twenty years before I die”.. it becomes a competition when another says.. no o, mine is one fifty.
Surprisingly, these are grown adults who are scared of death.

I, too, say God forbid a short-lived life. However, it’s not just about the age itself, but to a zero achievement rate.
I just can’t leave like that!

And that’s what terrifies me here. The need to fulfill my biggest dream and watching it transform in reality.. nothing beats that!
However, if I am to pick a death number. I would choose @90..
That should be long enough time on earth, it would be a perfect age to venture into the world that had kept us up on our toes.

By then, I should have fought a good fight, and be ready to bid farewell,resting peacefully would be all I want to do.