I went to see my friend who is dying, again over the weekend. He was tired, pale, discouraged. He said he was thinking of going to the hospital, to end his life there. I asked him why. He said because his pain medication made him frightened and angry and affected his thinking, and he got so upset that he might need 24 hour care. He’d been feeling this for several months, since he started taking medication, he said. I asked him if anyone had considered changing the medication, and he said no, that had not come up. He said he was certain this will be his last Thanksgiving and maybe his last Christmas, if he can get there.

We talked for two hours, and it was a good talk, a wonderful talk in so many ways, a powerful talk. Another friend joined us and we had dinner together. My friend is a very spiritual man but had not had the opportunity to really consider what he wanted at the end of life, or rather considered the idea that he could control how it ended. I told him hospice – he is now under hospice care – is not about medications or procedures, and it not focused on treating his illness. It is focused on making him more comfortable, and also on letting him decide how he wants to die. Hospital care is different.

In a sense, I said, hospice is about letting go of the idea that your health needs to be monitored or controlled, letting go of doctors to some extent, or of the idea of recovering. That is a difficult thing to let go of. He asked me, after some hours, what I thought he should do, and I said I wasn’t there to tell him what to do. I said it might make sense to try switching to another medication to see if the fear and anger receded, and if he might be able to stay at home for awhile, which is what he said he wished to do.

I have realized, I told him, that few people believe they can control the end of life, and even fewer are given the chance. We are talking again Monday. The conversation seemed to energize, even revive him – especially the idea, he said, that no one had suggested he might deal with these issues in some other way than being heavily medicated with powerful drugs.  That surprised me very much, and yet it didn’t surprise me at all.

I had a good time, a very spiritual time. I told my friend that now, of all times, he had the right to say what he wanted, and to see if that was possible. Sitting in that darkened room, looking at his books, his paintings, I felt a rush of gratitude. For the gift of life, the joy of friendship, the power of love, and of course for life itself, fragile and unnpredictable. This is his illness, not mine, but I resolved yet once more time to remember that life is precious, and must not be wasted. Not a single day.

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I enjoyed my Sabbath day today. The world is ready for me. Iphone issues, the video camera is broken. The perfect life is not one without troubles, but one in which troubles are overcome and expected, and handled with grace and compassion.