Skip to content

What I learned from dying: Hospitalized again

Dave at his desk at the Hancock Clarion.

I’m writing this from a hospital bed… again.

It’s a quick and firm reminder that things can change any minute.

Just a few days ago I felt so good that I went in to the office for a little bit and I convinced my wife to go to Owensboro just to get out of the house. Now I can’t get out of this bed.

I must say, this third time around isn’t any more exciting than the other two, but I will admit it’s not as horrific.

Last time I was in here they stabbed a one inch hole in my side to drain putrid fluid from my collapsed right lung, without any anesthesia.

The time before that is when they told Jamie that my body had fought all it could and that I wouldn’t survive the night, so she had to call my friends and family to let them see me on FaceTime so they could tell me goodbye.

So yeah, comparatively speaking, this stay is quite a joy. It’s also been boring as crap.

I’m not hooked to a lot of things, but I haven’t gotten many tests either. I’m pretty certain I could’ve gone home this morning and been just fine.

But I’m not home yet and I’m going on three days in, but it still is a reminder of how fragile I am.

Just a few days ago I was trying to finalize plans to hit a car show in June, to visit Nashville with Jamie and to get my Bug worked on. This pneumonia thing is no joke though.

Pneumonia is exactly the thing that my cancer doctor said I wouldn’t survive again. Like, he literally said in February that my new chemo would make me more susceptible to getting pneumonia again and I wouldn’t survive it third time. That’s plenty scary.

It took a whole whole lot to get me to the hospital this time because of that very reason. It’s like I felt that if I didn’t go officially get diagnosed with pneumonia that maybe I could survive longer. Yes I know that’s not really how it works but that’s how my mind was working at the time. Jamie pleaded with me just to go before it got worse.

I prayed about it a lot, begging God not to let this be the end because I was scared and I wasn’t ready.

The thing is I used to be ready. When I was first diagnosed I was almost fine with dying, or as close as a person can be. Buy then something changed where I began realizing I needed to enjoy my last days and I started enjoying life so much I didn’t want to give it up.

If you’re a believer and a Bible reader, you know that’s not a good place to be. I’m not supposed to love this life more than I love God and I’m getting too close to that. I must remember that my every breath is a gift from God and that without him I’m literally nothing. Cars, furniture and houses don’t and can’t compare.

I’m trying to keep my eyes turned toward Heaven and allow the rest to fall off to the periphery where it belongs. Cars aren’t bad, but if they’re more important than God then they’re terrible. In their place they’re fantastic. I have often said that life is too short to drive boring cars, but that doesn’t mean that life is mostly about driving fun cars.

Life is about loving people and loving God.

And sometimes it’s about listening to your wife and going to the hospital even when you don’t want to.

By Dave Taylor

Leave a Comment