This article is a follow-up to my last posting, Ginger and I Done the Dance. In that essay, I mentioned my dancing with death twice during my journey down my yellow brick road of life. To be honest, I’m not sure many buy into my mindset. Years ago, I had a friend that we would have breakfast together every month. Those breakfasts morphed into several hours of chatting. We would share ideas or debate some global problem.

Apparently, I mentioned doing the dance with death more often than he wanted to listen to again. He wanted to talk about anything other than what transformed my life. So, I avoided any mention of doing the dance. Months later, he retired, and he and his wife moved out east. A year or so later, I got an email from him. He told me that he had had an accident while driving due to a heart attack. He spent a couple of weeks in ICU before being discharged. Then, for the next half dozen paragraphs, he described his dance with death.

It is a conundrum for people to describe leading death on their dancefloor of life. It is like preaching to the choir. An even more vexing problem in that article related to Ginger, my Irish Setter, who has also done two dances. She will be eight this fall. The first half was devoid of medical issues. However, in the last half of her life, Ginger is dealing with inflammatory bowel disease. When friends ask how Ginger is doing, and I reply that she is fine, that is a sure sign that a couple of days later, she will be sick. Her life is a canine’s version of a roller-coaster.

If explaining to another person about dancing with death as a human, try doing that with Ginger. However, I contend that she grasps our relationship and her doing the dance. When she gets sick, I have additional meds for her. Ginger seems to understand that having to take pills will, over a couple of days, result in her feeling better. Additionally, I’ll sit next to her and gently rub her stomach when she isn\'t well. Ginger has been to our local vet hundreds of times in the past four years.

The local vet sent us to Purdue Veterinary Hospital. The first time, Ginger was put into their ICU because she wouldn’t eat. Dr. Derrè kept her alive by feeding her through an IV. The first time at Purdue, I wasn’t sure I would return home with Ginger after that first hospitalization.

If you question my two dances and how that transformation changed my Weltanschauung, you will wonder about Ginger’s transformation. Therefore, I want to share a Facebook video I saw with you.

Now, explain that elk’s mindset. I don’t know whether the elk was driven due to a near-death experience that it had faced or not. However, explain the elk’s determination to assist several other elk. It might have done a near dance with death or was a caring elk and didn’t want others to suffer.

This is my favorite mantra: It is in giving that we get. Doing the dance burns an impression in the mind of the dancer. It sensitizes the person to not existing. I think reaching out to others prevents that person from feeling like the person who needs help. In our journey down our yellow brick road, reaching out to others rewards the giver as much as the recipient. Helping and caring for others can be giving you time, money, or any other gift that will reward you as much as the recipient. Trust me.