Lately, I’ve been thinking about death a lot.

It’s not necessarily suicidal thoughts, but more to do with wondering how much time do I have left?Another 10 years is optimistic in my opinion and I’m 37. The past 10 years I’ve had multiple surgeries; lung surgery to drain fluids from pneumonia and empyema, titanium rod to replace my fibula, and a wisdom tooth pulled and ending up on life support twice post op. I have another surgery coming up- this time I’ve asked not to put me under full anesthesia.

After being diagnosed with so many other medical conditions I have my own ziploc bag full of prescriptions that my wife prepares for me at breakfast and dinner. Right after my fibula broke I was diagnosed with diabetes, I had high blood pressure prior to that, and the nurse said I’m just missing one thing for “the trifecta” which is high cholesterol. Few months later I was sure to be diagnosed with that as well. I use a Bipap Machine for my sleep apnea/COPD. I have rescue inhaler. I also take 4 capsules of Apriso at bedtime for Ulcerative Colitis (UC) to keep me from having bloody bowel movements. For diabetes I’m taking Metformin, for blood pressure: Losartan, Hydrochlorothiazide, and Propranolol, for cholesterol I’m on Lipitor. I am going to purposely omit some medications.

It was 10 years ago I was diagnosed with schizophrenia.

Oh, and a I survived an active shooter at Fort Lauderdale Airport (who happened to have schizophrenia himself) on January 5th, 2017.

This is where we are 10 years later.

Is it wrong for me to question how the next 10 years will go?

It’s true that all of these medications keep my diseases in check. Although, I wonder how much damage these same medications are doing to my internal organs. I don’t sleep too well. I’m always restless. The other night I was hearing voices to kill myself, that I’m better off dead,-I’ve gotten better at not paying attention to them. Yet, I try and keep this face on that everything’s perfectly OK (sometimes I get caught).

My wife is the best at noticing when I’m having symptoms. And the best part is we don’t talk about it and nor do I tell her at that moment exactly what’s going on. She sure knows how to deal with me to help me have my symptoms go away. When it’s at an extreme, I am making false accusations against her and she goes along with it until I come to the conclusion that I’m being delusional.

The other day, an article popped up that talked about the highest rate of suicides are with people with bipolar disorder. I may be the latter, but I’m strong enough not to kill myself (or weak enough to not carry out the act itself, whichever way you want to look at it). The biggest reasons I wouldn’t do this is first for my kids (I can never imagine the look on my 6 year old’s face or how his life would be without me if I went this way), my wife and my mother. This would be too much to handle for too many people.

What I do wonder is how life would be if I were to go based on natural causes… heart attack, not waking up from a surgery, organ failure, etc. I’ve cheated death so many times I feel like I’m on a death wish. It’s not that either, it’s just that I feel like that my time is getting closer and closer. I’ve been telling my wife this quite a bit, I’m not even sure if she reads my blog, but there’s a reason for it. I’ve been having sudden outbursts at home for this death wish. I’m giving them hints, hints so that when I do go they know that I had it coming so that it’s easy for them. I know I make it seem like I’m invaluable but I am putting up a fight, trust me on that.

I truly wish to be around my kids when they’re graduating from school and going on to become doctors and getting married and playing with my grandkids someday. Maybe even take a world cruise with my wife, someday. I really do. I hope I do. Let’s see.