Miniature Assassin

I do have a fear.

In the shadow of the furor and fuss about the heart,
  grows a small but deadly plaque on the carotid artery.
  It resides at the base of the skull, inches from my brain.

I have not allowed myself to acknowledge the fear
  incited through my being by this miniature assassin.
  Even positive thinking can be used to hide from reality.

And, hiding is exactly what I have been doing of late.
  So, brutal honesty.  I am horrified by the possibility of
  having a debilitating stroke, losing my ability to cogitate.

My mind is my greatest strength.  From it flows my gift.
  This gift, my writing, requires a mind capable of discovering
  the perfect word to weave into the exquisite phrase, a thought.

Without my mind, I am a painter without a paintbrush.
  Without words to express that which cries for expression,
  I am as a songbird without a voice, a ballerina without legs.

I can imagine no greater assault to my being than to
  lose my mind, lose my gift, be forced to live robbed of
  the ability to think.

My mother almost died from a stroke during heart surgery.
  My father died from an aneurysm during a pre-heart surgery
  procedure.  My grandmother and grandfather died from strokes.

I have always known this was most likely to be my demise.
  I never imagined, however, that it could come at 54-years-old.
  I am so young.  I live a healthy life style.  I take care of my body.

So, what to say after acknowledging the fear in my heart?
  I shall not chide myself, nor shirk in shame at expressing fear.
  I shall stay with it, love it, allow and honor it.  I shall seek quiet.

And, I shall await the Divine grace upon which I rely for all.