Identity is how you think of yourself. Identity is what you talk about when someone asks you who you are. Identity has many layers. Some of the layers are historical; some are illusions; some you think about with pride; some you would prefer not to have as part of your identity.

How does identity fit in with the usual theme of this blog, Close Calls and Narrow Escapes? I have more than once escaped from identifying as a sick person, and I also frequently escape from identifying as an old person.

My therapist says this is denial. I think it’s about survival.

Before I nearly lost my life to a rare disease in 1990, I identified 100 percent as a perennially healthy, strong person. The illness came on slowly. I didn’t notice for months that something awful was creeping up on me. I tried not to think of myself as sick, even when I felt exhausted. Maybe on some level, I believed if I didn’t identify as sick, I wouldn’t be. When my fever soared to 104, my husband took me, despite my objections, to the hospital, where I stayed for most of the summer.

There were some moments that summer—some very self-sorry, terrifying moments—when I did think of myself as a sick person, a very sick person. Hard not to think of yourself that way when you're lying in a hospital bed for weeks. But I........

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