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December 4, 2019
I used to say that when death comes for me, I donít want to know about it. I had an uncle who died in his sleep at the age of fifty; a great-uncle who died instantly whilst chatting on a bus. I used to want a death like that. You always said youíd rather know about it; be aware that you were going. About fifteen years ago I decided I agreed with you. Almost two years of health worries and medical tests have, perhaps strangely, only made me feel that way more strongly. I want to know itís coming.