My friend Karl Tivey is dying, but then, when you think about it, who isn’t? It’s a marvel more people aren’t really. In fact, if I were a betting man, I’d put a thousand on everyone of us doing exactly what Karl is in the midst of, although not nearly as sexily.
Karl came to stay for the holidays and while he was napping on my couch I grabbed his bag of medications and went to the magic google machine and did some research. Karl picked up the HIV back when it was deadly, but back then he was not so smart as to seek immediate treatment. His immune system is kaput. If he were to hear you sneeze he would turn and walk away, he is both smart and paranoid, which means we get along just fine.
As he slept I did my research and realized that my friend was probably doing more harm that good by ingesting the chemicals he has been using to treat his disease. I did not want to just impose my opinion on my friend, so I waited. During dinner I coached the subject in the most subtle manner I knew.
“You know those medicines you take are toxic, right?” I said, simply.
“Yeah, I’m not stupid. Pass the rice.”
Karl explained that he had stopped by my house for a couple of weeks to stop taking the medications. He was going to do it cold turkey and he thought my house would be as good of a place as any. He was probably right, cold turkey is a phrase often used around this joint, and not just to describe an unusually delicious thanksgiving dinner served three hours late because of a JetBlue mishap.
Since Karl has been here I have found it only appropriate to wear my French maids outfit. Karl is having massive migraine headaches, giving up toxic pharmaceuticals without consulting a specialist will do that to you, and I am serving as his nurse. I waddle around offering pudding and a green juice cocktail enhanced with just a touch of homemade tequila. Karl spends most of his days in the guest room, windows covered, as dark as possible, his head pounding, no sounds allowed at all.
We miss the summer and the spring, the floating leaves of fall. The air in his room is cold, which is what he requested. I don’t know why. It is now winter in my heart, hearing and watching my friend suffer as he prepares for some sort of expedition I have no clue of how it might end. I think of the spring bulbs my lover and I planted and I whisper in Karls ear that he has to return to watch them bloom.
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