When I was younger, I thought that seeing friends die would be easier to handle as I got older, like maybe I would become desensitized to it, but if anything, it’s getting harder. Those of us with chronic illnesses know that most likely, it’s something with our illness that is going to take us down. For the most part, however, unless we’ve been tipped off otherwise, we believe that it’s a long time down the road before it’s our turn. For me it seems that there’s another one every few months, and for a lot of them, I don’t have any real personal relationship with them, but there are the odd handful that I do. For those ones, when it happens, even if I knew it was coming, it hits me like a brick. It’s that feeling that I thought would be easier to deal with as I got older. The frequency makes me wonder which of us are next. There’s no way of knowing, because some are sudden, while others are a long time coming. It’s this that makes me wish I could somehow leave the chronic illness community, and live in the sweet ignorance of the general population, the healthy people who don’t have to face this reality, that their mortality can be taken from them as quickly as snapping your fingers or flipping a coin.