Counting Down the Final Quarter
written by: Jackie Oldham
Judging by the U.S.
average lifespan
of 78 years,
I can only count on
6 more years.
My father took his last breath
just one month after
his 79th birthday,
but he never got to celebrate it
because he was already
on his death bed
that day,
having suffered
life-threatening burns
from a freak
cooking accident
three months earlier.
My mother lived seven years longer,
to age 86.
We celebrated her birthday with a
surprise dinner party
at a fancy restaurant.
Seven months later,
she took her final breath—
Not once but twice—
While I drove her to the ER,
she went limp and cold.
The doctors revived her.
But early the next morning,
she left forever.
Like both my parents,
I have chronic kidney disease.
But only my father endured years of dialysis,
a fate my mother declined.
Unlike my parents,
my chronic kidney disease has,
for eleven years,
defied the doctors’
grim prognosis:
The nephrologist kicked me out of the clinic–
my numbers too close
to normal for care.
Freed from care,
I’ve lived my life
the way I want to.
Eating and drinking according to
my body’s will.
I survived an early bout of Covid
before we even knew
its symptoms.
Survived the isolation and fear.
Writing poems and meeting other poets virtually
and being published online
gave me new life.
But now, as people meet
once more in person,
I cling to isolation and fear.
Too many of my friends
and family have died
or moved away from me,
breaking the chain of connections,
forming smaller familial circles.
I’ve grown old in my isolation.
Left with memories
and regrets
from the past.
Unable to leave them behind.
Afraid to move forward
with my new,
implanted eyes,
old, crumbling teeth,
and joints stiffening,
I fear what more I might lose.
I drive a fourteen-year-old car
that’s half-rebuilt from
foolish and unplanned accidents.
(Insurance adjusters say
accidents are avoidable.)
Recently, my car got stuck
in wet cement—
I could not see the nonexistent barriers
around it.
So, now, I must plan each trip
in advance.
Foreseeing hidden obstacles,
detours and bumps
on the road ahead.
Plotting alternative routes.
For what do I take
all these precautions?
From whom am I afraid
to take my leave?
I have no way of knowing
what awaits me
when my time on this Earth
winds down.
- Counting Down the Final Quarter - September 14, 2025
- To Save This Broken House - December 9, 2024
- By Choice, I Live Alone - April 13, 2024
