What I'm about to write about isn't one of those 'Woe is me' stories. I spent a great deal of my live with a set of flexible morality. I smoked, drank, popped pills, indulged the flesh as if it were an amusement park and am reaping the results. This last week was centered around the question as to whether or not I wanted to be admitted to Hospice...Yeah, it's heading toward the final stretch and try as I might I can't pretend that I'll see my next birthday. I weight about 135lb, blind in the day light and have about fifteen percent of my lung function. I fall, had a few serious problems that should have been stitched but I had already been told by my specialist how I was going to die. Not a pretty picture. I can't begin to explain just how much pain I have on a daily basis or the sheer terror when Oxygen cannot get into my lungs and the sheer panic of losing control. Can't walk far,can't eat a lot and it's only because of my sister, Beth, m