Year 2004-2005

Passing of True Friendship

This is just a quick note, a simple praise to a love that was nurtured to the very end. A patient of mine (in a place I visit on Fridays), whose name is James passed away today at 78. Sam, his partner of 52 years had informed me about this sad news.

I was walking Sam today when the Administrator stopped us. She said, "Sam, would you come to the office. I need to tell you something." Sam whispered to me, "I don't like this, I really don't like this. They might give me the news I dread to hear."

This was what we have been talking about this early morning. I was surprised to learn that his roommate, James, was sent back to the hospital for severe pneumonia. He was just fine last Friday. I worked with him.

I assured Sam that pneumonia is curable. Sam said, "I am not sure anymore. Alex, James is tired of being old, sick and tired." He was smoking a cigarette.

"Since when did you start smoking Sam?"

"I quit last year but with all this I need a cigarette."

I tried to caress his tired mind. Sam have expressed much of his fears to me -- they've got money and a ten bedroom house. They've got a big swimming pool. But the house is empty. "I will not live in that house without James," Sam told me with tears in his eyes.

They met when he was 19 and James was 26. Sam was a tall, lanky, blond Broadway dancer, he danced with Martha Graham, Anne Miller, Bob Fosse. James was a shorter brawny PhD holder in the field of Chemistry. Made money and then switched to playing music. They lived all their lives in Manhattan. In 1990, they moved to South Florida to enjoy their retirement.

Since January, both of them got sick and were never able to return home due to safety issues.

James was the one who suffered the most. Sam told me they both took care of their sick parents and James was the one who felt he was going to die the way his parents did.

He was in/out of hospital this past year. Afraid in a strange place called SNF, confined on a bed that had metal railings.

One day in his confusion, he started shaking the rails screaming, "Take me out of this jail, please take me out of this jail."

And Sam, as usual, was defending him, saying, "James is claustrophobic. And he's like this every night."

And Sam is not well either.

But one thing I would tell you, to the very end, Sam was by the side of James.

I wish I had more words of comfort to give Sam today but he was busy phoning people, friends and relatives. He was making preparations for the burial of his lover.

*James/Sam are not their real names to protect their privacy*