Promise or Threat?

“When did the future switch from being a promise to being a threat?” ~ Chuck Palahniuk

I know Jesus. I believe in eternal life. Heaven? Can’t wait to be there. It is going to be amazing – one day. In the future. It’s an amazing promise, but suddenly it felt like a threat.

One of the first things I remember hearing in the cardiologist’s office when receiving my diagnosis of heart failure was that I had a 50% greater chance of dying than I did prior to this diagnosis. I did later learn that there was truth in that statement, but there were nuances that could have made it much less scary.

I went about life with this new found knowledge and if that knowledge wasn’t enough I was wearing a LifeVest which was a constant reminder that death was imminent. I went on. It looked like I was keeping it together, except I wasn’t. I went to bed every night worried Michael would wake up in the morning to a cold dead wife beside him in bed. I went into work thinking how unfair it was of me to be putting people at risk of discovering me dead in my cubical. I kept my eyes out for the AED’s in any building and when the were suddenly missing at work I had a little panic.

I did know that death could happen at any time. Before my diagnosis I was well aware that I could have died in my sleep, died in my cubicle, been hit by a school bus, struck by lightening, you get the idea. But… death was abstract. It was out there, somewhere, and way in the future. It was easy to think about or rather not think about.

I wasn’t ready for death. I felt good. I wasn’t suffering. I was still working out. I had a step goal. I didn’t miss one day of work due to symptoms. It was years into this journey before I spent the night in a hospital (heart failure + dehydration from norovirus = no bueno). I believe that I will go to sleep in death and wake up with Jesus and the feeling I get from others is that should be super comforting, it should totally allay my fears.

But this fear it wasn’t allayed. It is no longer a clear and present danger, but it is still there – lingering on the edge. My heart is stable. The meds are doing their job. But I don’t know how this happened. So I don’t know how to stop it from happening again. And I’m not ready to die. I mean, salvation wise, I’m good, but actually dying… not so much.