Expendable Me
Expendable me. And you too. George Washington's uniform as seen at the Smithsonian last year I did not appreciate how expendable I really was until my diagnosis. We are all completely expendable - or else the world would stop turning when we leave it. Life is designed that way. No matter how important we appear to be/are told we are/think we are, life will go on without us. And if we are very lucky, we will leave behind a little ripple that stirs the surface of the water as it ebbs away. I'm not trying to be morbid here, but the fallout from this idea has been stealing my zest for the last four years to varying degrees. I've found it very difficult to push on and care much at all about my responsibilities. It's very difficult to describe, but to jump straight to the low point, it was imagining how people would be talking about my husband's First Wife.... (meaning me): "Kelly, she was lovely, but we are so happy Big D (hubby) has found Mrs. Big D2 to s...