Well, I'm not coming to your funeral. I refuse to make a memory of you in a box when for the 12 years I have known you you have lived outside the box, a rebel of sorts, drawing life just outside the lines. Then this wry little smile would pop out on your face signifying that you had accomplished your goal of getting someone's attention. What? You don't think we are aware of that WRY little smile...hmmmm.

Well, what now, Mirapex Maiden" I'm not going to try to talk you out of dying. I might, however try to t alk you into living just a bit longer. Of course, you know that life's path is full of bumps, lumps, dumps, jumps and those Forest Gumps whose moms seemingly know what that next piece of chocolate holds in store for you. We, on the other hand, seldom know what might be waiting for us just around the next corner.

I know y ou said that you aren't going to fight it, but...(here it comes...are you ready) can't you just show us one of your upper cuts or a jab or two or a one-two punch followed by a left hook. Now really, is that too much to ask. Wouldn't you expect me to do the same on my way out? Now, I am required to leave you a link here, so don't bellyache...just go to it and read the material. Love you, Paula.

http://hedgeek.hubpages.com/hub/The_...edical_Miracle