So what’s it like, I’m often asked, to be alive more than six years after I’m supposed to have died? Well, one thing’s certain: I’m older by the calendar. But I hope that I’m younger in attitude and outlook. And it’s gratifying to be still walking on planet Earth, knowing my ashes had been scheduled to be scattered in a beloved mountain range near Tucson, Arizona, where I live.
I wouldn’t still be here but for a fortuitous chain of circumstances that meshed to save my life. Call it destiny. Or sweet serendipity. Or just plain luck.