Instead, the wall fell silently, gracefully and without any obvious trigger, until it came to rest all around me. The world was a darker place, it was difficult to breathe and all communication with the outside world had been dulled.
Fortunately for me, even though I couldn't free myself from the rubble entirely, I discovered it was possible to drag that which clung to me, all the way to the doctor’s consultation room.
The GP I saw was a New Zealander, on secondment to my practice. She proved to be exceptionally skilful in rescuing people from rubble, and after a few weeks, she signed me fit enough to return to work. During our final meeting, things took a philosophical turn. After a long chat about how to avoid unstable walls, and the health benefits of fresh fruit and veg, she turned to me and said, “You know, when my time’s up, I want to have a short list in my hand. The shortest list ever.” “Really?” I asked. “Too right,” she said, “I’m talking about the list of things I’ll be wishing I’d done.”
I suspect that, generally, it wouldn’t be regarded as ‘sensible’ to have that little snippet at the top of your list of considerations when early retirement is on offer. But the doc’s words stuck with me, and I’m glad they did.
Today, I read this, and number two on the list of regrets for those who reach the end of the road is, “I wish I hadn’t worked so hard.” It’s difficult to see how working long and hard is going to be avoidable for much of the population, for many, many years. I count myself extremely lucky that the wall fell on me when it did.
"A Touch of the Poet," Martin. I am now looking around at my own rubble. It seems that quite a bit of it did fall silently and harmlessly.
ReplyDeleteThat which falls silently and harmlessly is precisely the kind of rubble for making interesting lifescapes, Bruce.
DeleteGreat post ...... from one oldie to another.
ReplyDeleteThanks, Helen.
DeleteA variation on one of our mantras that nobody ever went to their grave wishing they'd spent more time at the office (although I bet there are exceptions even to that rule!)
ReplyDeleteI'm glad that when my own wall began to cut out the light I was able to refer to that list and decide to take action.How fortunate for you that you had such a wise doctor and that her words made an impression.
Yes I was fortunate indeed, Nell. Almost seven years since I walked away from the office. In that time I haven't travelled the world, haven't written the book, etc, etc. But I have had the time to enjoy our grandchildren and those I love the most. I'd say it doesn't get much better than that.
DeleteThose Guardian wishes are pretty anodyne, though, aren't they? Try this: "In times behind, I too/ wished I'd lived/ in the hungry Thirties" (Bob Dylan, 1964)
ReplyDeleteTim, I suppose it's not surprising the wishes appear to be rather anodyne. They have manifested, after all, in the minds of people who are still selling themselves short, even at the point of death.
Delete"I wish I wasn't in this bloody hospital".
ReplyDeleteI remember a family I used to know where the father was a bit of a cantankerous old sod. His last words were. "Put that effin light out!"
This cantankerous old sod, it wasn't my late father-in-law was it?
DeleteI enjoyed reading that article, thanks for the link. As someone who has had to stop work to look after another, I've given a lot of thought to priorities - and I haven't missed my job for a second! It really is true that our (healthy) relationships are the most precious thing.
ReplyDeleteChristine, I believe it does us good to take stock from time to time. It's a cliché, I know, but often the very thing we're looking for, is right under our nose all the time.
DeleteBeautifully written piece Martin - I am glad you got out from all the rubble :)
ReplyDeleteThanks, Gabrielle. Life is so much better, off the hamster's wheel.
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