Death With Dignity by J. Lee Porter & Ed Teja

Author:J. Lee Porter & Ed Teja [Porter, J. Lee]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Travel fiction, resort stories, asian expats, asian adventure, end of life stories, dying with dignity, friendship
Publisher: Nomadic Giant, LLC
Published: 2020-11-04T20:00:00+00:00

The next weeks were filled with all that goes with ramping up business. It was crazy, and I was glad when Betty came in full time. Working together, we made it happen.

“Jake’s back,” Betty told me.

“He didn’t call. How is he?”

“I don’t exactly know, even though he’s staying with me. He asked me to get everyone together this weekend. He’s being dramatic and wants to tell everyone his news all at once.”

Betty doesn’t think much of people who are being dramatic.

“And you don’t have a clue?” I asked.

“I don’t speculate.” Her schoolteacher grimace put me in my place. “Just get over to my house Saturday afternoon. I’ll make a huge vat of spaghetti and we will send the kids off to eat in the television room.”

“Why?”

“Because the television room has vinyl floors and wiping up the inevitable spilled sauce isn’t a big deal?”

“I mean, why have the kids eat separately?”

Betty sneered. “Because I’m sure Jake feels the need to be grown-up dramatic over wine or something stronger and they don’t really know what’s going on. He’s going to rent some new movie that Doreen said they are clamoring to see.”

With the turmoil at work I found myself looking forward to a relaxing get together and hearing how the new therapy had gone. Seeing him made my stomach knot up. He’d lost even more weight and his pale skin told me he hadn’t gotten any beach time.

“How are you?” I asked as we settled into chairs on the patio.

“First—” Jake held up a bottle of a whisky that I’d only heard about. It was absurdly expensive. I couldn’t help but think of the cost of each glass as he poured out healthy drinks, neat. “Now, I know I owe you all, each of you, an explanation. You deserve to know what is going on. But first a toast. L’chaim—to life”

Not one of us had a snappy reply to that. I sipped my drink, and the others did the same. Jake drank, then took a deep breath.

“The trip I took to Thailand wasn’t successful.”

“Their pain therapies didn’t work?” I asked.

“That’s no surprise,” Betty said. “If they worked, then doctor’s here—”

“When I came back, I didn’t come straight here. I made a side trip up to the Mayo clinic in Phoenix. That wasn’t productive either, except in confirming the diagnosis.”

“I thought it was chronic pain.”

He paused to taste his drink again. “Damn that’s fine stuff. Anyway, the thing is I’ve been lying. Now I have to come clean. I don’t have a chronic condition.”

“That’s a relief,” I said.

“Is it?” He sighed. “Sorry, I’m being flip. It isn’t a relief. You see chronic means ‘continuing or occurring again and again for a long time.’ I looked it up. That makes this a rare situation because the doctors and the dictionary agree on something.”

“So your pain isn’t chronic?”

“No. You see, although it does continue and reoccurs, it won’t persist for the long time that makes it chronic.”

“I told you he wanted to be dramatic,” Betty said.

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