About 14 years ago I moved to south west France with two French friends, Pierre and Claude and their wives, Pierre’s wife Renee spent her childhood in this particular area. We had been working at the World Bank, and our children were grown and living their own lives.
Pierre died in hospital in October 2016, after a few months of the standard aggressive treatment for melanoma, surgery (cut), chemotherapy (poison) and radiation (burn).
After maybe 10 years of physical decline caused by Parkinson’s disease, with his mind pretty much intact, I know because I visited him frequently over the intervening years, Claude died at home in the night and hopefully in his sleep in October 2017.
A few months ago I made my infrequent call, the 9 hour time difference complicates things, to Ken Coole another good friend who lives in Seattle. When I asked how he was doing he started to laugh and replied the good news was his doctor had finally figured out what was wrong with him. Cancer, and he had less than 6 months to live, but having looked at the statistics he had decided to decline treatment other than for pain and to opt to die at home. When after that I called him every week he always found something to laugh about, for example he was very content that has made all the arrangements with his daughter, his friends and the cemetery to have his Kawasaki 900 motor bike buried with him. Mr Cool(e) died at home heavily sedated on Saturday, May 29th.
These events caused me to reflect on a trip I made to Vietnam 20 plus years ago with Tutu a very dear Vietnamese friend. We stopped at a Buddhist temple in the countryside outside Saigon to visit one of his cousins, then for me an older man. The cousin had been a senior government legal authority but had resigned and had donated his possessions to the temple in exchange for a room, one meal a day and the opportunity to share the life of the temple. He possessed a small wooden bed, a pair of flip flops, a tooth brush, a bowl and a set of chopsticks and one change of clothing. When I inquired why he chose to do this, Tutu translating for me, he replied that it was time to relinquish the things that previously consumed him and his life and to reflect and prepare to leave the world.
Sadly for Tutu, and because he avoided taking a very important decision when he should, he has been incarcerated in a large and very expensive “secure” retirement home in Paris for over 14 years. When I visited him they gave me the code for the gate key panel so I could take him out for lunch. Inside it was like a Hogarth painting of Bedlam in wheelchairs. He survives in misery.
I have talked about these events with Mel, an intelligent person and my lifetime best friend. His advice is as the possibility of things which previously gave you pleasure or interested you decrease, it is best to settle for and be content with the small routine events of your daily life.
The advice on this topic from Dr. Ed my American GP for over 40 years, the best doctor I have ever met, a deeply caring person and a friend, is don’t overly concern yourself on this topic, when it is your turn your turn will come.
My conclusions: If fortunate to be afforded any option(s) in this matter take Mel’s recommendation for the remainder of the journey, Ken’s for the departure lounge, all the while being mindful of Dr. Ed’s cautionary counsel regarding the arbitrary stopwatch.
I acknowledge I am writing this to myself but as we do it only once I think it merits reflection on how it is done best.
Have you given the issue any consideration ? If so I would be interested in knowing what if any conclusions you have reached.
Your friend
John
