A Personal Perspective: Bill's early HIV diagnosis loomed large, but as death neared, the love and loyalty between us outshined the painful memories.
Love leads us to do what needs to be done for a loved one simply because it's required.David called me on Saturday, April 23, 1994, to tell me Bill died that morning at 8:35. Now it was over. The inevitability, the feelings of resignation, concern,Mostly, I felt calm, even numb. I was glad to know Bill died peacefully and not in pain and that he didn’t suffer a long decline. “But goddamn it!” I wrote in my journal that day.
In many ways it was remarkable Bill had survived even this long. He had virtually no immune system to speak of. He’d hadpneumonia, Kaposi’s sarcoma, and, most recently, had an IV permanently implanted in his arm to treat cytomegalovirus retinitis. Now, he had brain lymphoma. When David called me with this particular news, we agreed Bill’s seemingly rapid decline could ultimately prove to be a “severe mercy,” to borrow C. S. Lewis’s words, if it meant less pain and suffering and deterioration.
Witnessing Bill’s decline was the closest I have been to anyone at that extremely advanced stage of HIV disease. I was struck by how terribly grown-up I felt during this ordeal. I knew from my experience of so many losses by then that, awful as it feels, I had to go on anyway. That was what I had learned abouteven by then. I wrote in my journal, “There’s something almost refreshing about thinking of Bill’s comfort, something that takes me out of my self-interest and self-pity.
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