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It came as no surprise to hear that my friend of 40 years had terminal cancer. It was just the type of cancer that was the surprise. After spending over 40 years smoking two, sometimes three or four packs a day, imbibing scotch, smoking weed, and flirting with cocaine, the surprise was that the diagnosis was leukemia, not lung cancer.
If there is anyone who has lived his life as if he had a death wish, it's my friend *Matt. His sexual appetite has been as large as his fondness for nicotine and carbohydrates. After he retired with a seven figure bank account, he would leave his wife in Vancouver, and spend his winter in the Brazilian town of Fortaleza, (known for its supply of prostitutes.)
He would call from Brazil and share stories of his current paid paramour. That was his call to me. To his other friend, my former husband, he would call and confess his cocaine induced haze and his sporadic sexual encounters with male prostitutes. Matt's bi-sexuality was an undercurrent throughout his life.
Were those phone calls pleas for help? Maybe Matt thought we no longer talked, the former and myself. We do. And, we talked about Matt's death wish and what we could possibly do about it. It's not as if we could go to Brazil and save him from himself. He was, after all, an adult -- a 58-year-old man who had earned a Ph.D, operated a successful business, and had all the outward appearances of a life well-lived.
Except Matt has a hole in his soul that will never be filled.
We asked ourselves if, by taking his calls, were we enabling him to spiral out of control? We asked, whether we should tell our friend that his behavior was suicidal?
The questions were asked, but the answers weren't forthcoming. Matt simply said he was in search of happiness. He noted our concern, said it meant a lot that we cared, but continued to live his life the way he wanted.
In talking about Matt with close friends, they questioned how I could consider him a friend. "He doesn't seem like the type of person you would be friends with."
"We go back 40 years," I explained. "And, there was a time when he provided solace, insight, and unconditional friendship. When I needed a friend, Matt was there. The least I can do is try to return the friendship."
Yet, even for Matt, who had lived life winking at death, the Brazilian era was extreme and it caused us to question why we still considered this mess of a human being a dear friend.
With a friend like Matt, there are estrangements. The latest began 18 months ago after an explosive dinner, where, in an apparent drug-induced haze, he chatted nonchalantly about his prostitutes in Brazil. His wife and I sat gaped-mouth. Neither she, nor I, stormed out of the restaurant.
The meal shook me up so much that I called his wife and said I believed it was time for an intervention. I pledged my support, but also said that unless something radically changed, I simply could no longer be part of this dangerous dance he seemed hell-bent on gyrating to.
The radical change came with his diagnosis. He got his death wish. Six months to a year. I picked up the phone. In one of the conversations he said he asked the doctor if his lifestyle had contributed to his diagnosis. He told me he was relieved when the doctor promised him that his type of cancer was simply the draw of bad luck.
I said nothing, but googled his type of leukemia. The Internet told me a very different story. It is not one I need to tell Matt. What would be the point?
In one of our conversations I asked if there were people he wanted me to get in touch with. He gave me the names of four women he had once loved. He said he wanted to know how their lives had turned out. I suspected something a little different.
It was not difficult to track the women down. One responded by email, wishing Matt peace but no personal message of fond memories of their time together. Another, his first wife, who was a high-school friend of mine, opted not to respond at all.
Two of the women decided to talk. We chatted for over an hour, sharing their ambivalence and sadness over his request. Thirty years later, he was still a question mark.
The truth is these women had not
