Today’s Daily Prompt asks, “At what age did you realize you were not immortal? How did you react to that discovery?”
Life seems like it goes on forever, doesn’t it? I learned a long time ago that sure, life may seem like it goes on forever but eventually, there’s an end for everyone, just like there’s an end to every book. I don’t know when I realized that because death, especially in my father’s side of the family, became a sensitive issue ever since my father died. I’m not even allowed to say the word, die or death. Also, between my childhood and preteen illnesses along with one or two unconscious brush of death as well as being told that I will only live until 33, well, you get my point.
I was born normal, at least, that’s what I’ve been told. At the age of three, I suffered a horrible seizure and later learned that I got a case of Hypocalcemia. At the age of seven, I fell incredibly ill after spending a night with my grandparents. That period of illness was horrifying even in my aunt’s perspective. She later told me that she was afraid that I wouldn’t make it and that she will have to tell my mom.
At first, I was like, pssh, there’s no way. But as I thought about it, that fever did last mighty long and none of the medicine had worked. I somehow knew, though, that it was my perseverance and stubbornness that kept me going through that period as well as the constant switching of heat and ice packs for days, weeks, etc, that the fever finally cooled. Suffice to say, just like a lot of other people out there, I experienced a brush of deaths to support the fact that I am not invincible nor immortal, I am simply just a human being with a finite period of time to leave my mark on Earth.