He was at the end of the line
His wall had been reached
Palliative care was only stopping his whine
It was now high time to practice
— that which he had always preached.

They’d tried of course, many times
There had been operations galore
He was now so covered in ugly scars
That his so often cut chest
— was all puckered and sore.

He decided no more
And consulted his list
Of the things before death he would do
And he noticed he’d put another parachute jump
— that somehow he seemed to have missed.

He gathered his pain
And went to the club
He arranged a jump fairly quick
Then he thought about life and he thought about death
— and he sensed that the timing was slick

On the day of the jump in unbelievable pain
He decided he’d not pull the cord
But it made him feel like he was a quitter
So he did
— and he floated down to the sward.

He may of course now just die in his sleep
Or get run down by a car or a bus
But his choice was to get on with life as it was
Sod the rest
— he couldn’t stand the fuss.

©Joe Wilson – Choices…2015

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