My imagined future

I get the leg amputated a week from today. I cope with the pain and put a brave face on things. Though I'm adept on crutches, I'm far less mobile than before. Even strong arms are not designed to bear that much weight, and I'll be sixty in a few months. The wear and tear will take their toll. Meanwhile, every three months I'll go in for a chest scan with contrast, which means I'm injected with a dye to see whether or not the disease has spread to my lungs, which it will have a seventy-five percent chance of doing despite the amputation, and will kill me in a year or so. When the results show nothing, I'm as happy as I can be under the circumstances. But not for long; the three months between scans pass quickly. If nothing shows up after two years of this, the rate of scanning goes to twice a year. That's an improvement, but still, for the rest of my years my concept of "the future" is a truncated one. 

https://youtu.be/LrsmOfyI7vo

If I survive those years, mobility becomes an increasing problem. I can drive, but once I'm at a destination most other things become hard enough that my motivation to do much lessens. Going out to dine in a restaurant or see a movie in a theater is no longer worth the trouble and honestly, how much have I ever really gotten out of viewing paintings in museums? I still go to family events and my closest friends visit me but over time my world shrinks to my immediate surroundings. I savor the view of the backyard from the porch and enjoy watching dog-walkers and runners through the kitchen windows. When I'm sixty-five, I'm living like someone twenty years older than that.
At times I look at the videos I made in the last weeks before the amputation and the photographs I printed out. I made them knowing that it would fascinate and depress me to see them in the years ahead.