A trip to the doctor determined something was very wrong, and I was sent straight from his office to the hospital. The diagnosis was confirmed-a very large blood clot on my left lung had done considerable damage. One of the doctors who had worked with me when I entered the hospital came into my room during that early-morning hour. She was surprised to find me awake and sat down to express some concerns. You could have died from this condition.
People often have.
And if you do get well, it could recur. Her comments weren't exactly the sleep inducement I was hoping for. In the darkness, the good health I had taken for granted seemed like a priceless commodity, and life felt very precious. I began to consider the possibility that at what seemed the very young age of sixty, still wanting to do much more with my life and longing to spend years of time with my family members, I might not be here. I felt an overwhelming urgency to say things to all the people I love.