Hay House - ISBN: 9781401940652

Bronnie Ware spent many years working in palliative care, attending to the needs of the dying. Her blog post “Regrets of the Dying” listed the top five regrets of those she cared for. It was an instant success, first climbing to one million views, then three million, then on into the stratosphere.

The post is simple and effective: A short introduction, the list with a few comments on each item, then a one-sentence ending.

Even the list is simple. It’s not shocking or groundbreaking or unfamiliar. Its impact is all the greater due to its being thoughts we all have had:
 
1. I wish I’d had the courage to live a life true to myself, not the life others expected of me.
2. I wish I didn’t work so hard.
3. I wish I’d had the courage to express my feelings.
4. I wish I had stayed in touch with my friends.
5. I wish that I had let myself be happier.

The entire post is striking for its spot-on comments and observations, and leaves the reader thoughtful and even changed.

Unfortunately, Bronnie Ware couldn’t leave it at that. She chose to expand the one-page list into a 257-page book, The Top Five Regrets of Dying: A Life Transformed by the Dearly Departing. To say it is tedious is a kindness.

Ms Ware had spent most of her career in banking until she threw it all in to become a professional Free Spirit. After adventures in Australia, the Middle East and Europe, she landed in England sorely needing a job. A classified ad led her to her first experience with palliative care. She continued with patients in England and Australia for a number of years.

All this is minutely related in the book, page after page. There are twenty-two chapters, with only five of them telling the stories behind the Regrets. The rest are given over to autobiographical musings, angst-laden ramblings about finding the Free Spirit within her, how naughty she was violating the norms of her culture and how good it felt, and What Do I Want to Be When I Grow Up.

I have to admit that I gave up after eight chapters. It was all I could take.

Ms Ware’s newfound career as an Author gives her the platform to exhibit her self-absorbed sophistry, dirty underwear and all. My life-long career as a reader gives me the right to throw up my hands in exasperation on the way to the toilet. I felt that I had wasted a couple hours of my life in exchange for a violent fit of diarrhea.

My advice – if you can’t discern it already – is to skip the book and read the blog article.

Chesticles illustrated. Note inappropriate pants.

Ilearned two very valuable Life Lessons yesterday while on my daily morning walk/run with Sophie, my dog.

FIRST OF ALL, PUT ON THE APPROPRIATE UNDERGARMENTS before leaving the house even though the dog is spinning in circles, jumping around, and has your socks in her mouth awaiting your request for them. Don’t just pick up clothing from the floor thinking “It’s ok this time. I’m in a hurry and can’t take 2 extra seconds to open the drawer that is within 12 inches of me.”

THE WRONG FOUNDATION for “chesticles” could be disastrous. If said chesticle leaves its moorings, do not think you can corral the wandering body part while running/walking in your neighborhood.

Chesticles: You are not invisible

You are not invisible. Somehow the look of a middle-aged chubby woman groping herself while walking/running is somewhat disconcerting to your neighbors. It provides verification of their belief that you are the old crazy lady that sits on her porch in the navy dotted top and leopard capri pants (my favorite outfit which I am currently wearing).

Side note: I just realized why Sophie won’t come when I call her because she is thinking “Mom,you embarrass me in that outfit. Please don’t come outside in it,please.”

Always wear black pants while running

SECOND LESSON LEARNED is be certain that you have taken care of all bodily functions before you leave home. While you are running don’t allow yourself the luxury of releasing a small amount of what you think is flatulence, for you could be surprised by squirtle. Always wear black pants while running. And threaten your dog with no treats if she points, laughs, and holds her nose.

Time to gear up and tackle another public showing of my embarrassed face in the neighborhood. You know, I am getting tired of the repetition of shuffling around my neighbor, so I may just drive to another neighborhood and spread some sunshine there. Theory: The people there don’t know me!