In Submission to death

Conversations with Mr. A. P. 55 /M .
Annexe II Bed 609 A
Diagnosis: Advanced Adenocarcinoma of Lung

I was one of those who claimed not to be afraid of death in my days of health and yore, never knowing what it really meant. Yet now when I am engulfed in its shadow, I see death in a new light.
Death, a simple human truth. Nature's most cruel joke, or perhaps its wisest stroke. One thing can be said, it's highly educational. For I am learning each day..learning to suffer until i finally see it in the eye. All the dramatic climaxes till I reach my final frontier.
For now, I'll tell you this, dying can be highly degrading. I lie in bed all day, tubes coming in and out of each possible orifice. Wires cover my body like a sinister web, counting each heartbeat, each breath I take. Sometimes, I hold my breath, just to see the monitor buzz off its alarms. I am starting to feel like a high school science experiment. Left in place by doctors until the bed can be used for "something better". One day they'll pull the plug.
The paradox about dying is this, time can be so still, it goes so slowly, yet it so less.
The highlights of my day are the visits the doctors make with their entourage. They call it "the Grand Rounds". And aren't they grand, full of subservience, hierarchies, submissive rivalries. I once read books, now i am being read like one.
They speak a language of their own, as though, trying to deceive me. They are wedded to these medicalisms which insulate them from the storms in my eyes, which they can't confront or don't want to . They use their words as tools to fight my fears. Perhaps, some of their own too.
Another day passes, yet death has not come. They say my days are numbered, yet the wait seems endless. Here , lies my pilgrimage's last point, my span's last inch. Here is where voracious death will unjoin my body and soul.