My
Room
When I found out I was dying I went though the usual cycle of denial, anger
and then resignation and acceptance. So where am I now?
I suppose I'm at that stage where one has to be practical, as in, how much
longer will my mind be in control of my body?
My aunt, Mary Elizabeth, found a doctor who specializes in terminal illnesses
such as mine -- he's with the University of California, Davis Medical Center
here in Sacramento. This location is perfect. The air is pretty clean and
the sky is clear, though it is somewhat hot in the summer. I guess one of
the reasons I came to Sac is that my doctor -- David Itoh -- used to be
married to one of my cousins, Catherine. And since he is Japanese, he can't
help but remind me of Naomi. He has the same eyes, and he likes racing as
well as opera and softball. He also knows something about Japanese dance,
Nihon buyo, since his grandmother was a teacher of the Bando school in
Los Angeles. Between David and Mary Elizabeth, I really couldn't ask for
better care. I know I can die happy. And that's very much of a comfort, I
suppose, at least for now when I can still understand what comfort means.
At any rate, I thought I would make my room as cheerful as possible, but I
left most of my pictures in New York. I only have a few here. But I put
them up and wrote poems for them all. I want Naomi and the rest of my
friends to think my last days on earth were pleasant enough, all things
considered. This room is like my final poem to her.
You know, there are times when I wonder whether I will be able to see my
father and my mother in whatever place people go these days when they pass
on. Who knows! Ah well! Guess we'll see.
Pascal McLaren
St. Ann's Hospice
