An Appointment with DR. DEATH

SINCE THE NIGHT HE WAS SHOT IN THE back, Gary has come to know a great many doctors. The surgeons could not get all the pieces of the bullet out of his spine. The neurologists could not reverse the paralysis, which locked his body in place from the neck down. The pain specialists, chiropractors and acupuncturists could not relieve the agony. If you were to go into the intensive-care unit and take the sickest patient you could find who was dying, that was my condition. Anything that could go wrong did. I was in constant pain most of the time.

When he finally came home after nine months in the hospital, his social worker was at a loss to restore peace to the one part of his body that still worked perfectly: the brain trapped in the body lodged in the wheelchair. I ! require total care. I can't feed myself, I can't drive, I can't dress myself, I can't go to the bathroom by myself. I need someone to brush my teeth for me. I need someone to get me out of bed. I need someone to open the mail for me. I am always in some degree of pain or discomfort.

Gary had worked as a crisis counselor, but that expertise was more a source of irony than comfort. He had lived an active Los Angeles life, liked running, was looking forward to settling down. I was ready to find someone and fall in love. All the pieces in my life were in place. All the pieces had now fallen apart, and no amount of psychotherapy could stick him back together again. Realistically, there is no cure, and this type of life is not acceptable to me.

So after five years of fighting, Gary went looking for one more doctor, the one he had heard about on television and read about in the papers. He followed the case of Janet Adkins and supported both her decision and Dr. Kevorkian's role. Last April, when he finally reached Kevorkian, they spoke very briefly. Kevorkian asked that he write a letter explaining his situation, which Gary did, very, very slowly. I'm able on a computer with one hand and arm to touch one button at a time. I wrote the letter and addressed it. He wrote back to me. He was very sympathetic and felt a genuine sorrow for what had happened to me.

In his letter to Gary, Kevorkian outlined the conditions of his "service." "First, I can help patients only in southeastern Michigan; and you have already stated willingness to travel. Second, the service cannot be performed in any rented facility because of potential legal difficulties. I'm sure you can understand the reason for this. Therefore, I must ask if you have any relative or friends in this area who could make a privately-owned domicile available for your use." He asked for Gary's medical history and for permission to contact his doctor. "I sympathize with your sad situation and wish that circumstances were such that the above obstacles would never be a factor in helping people like you. Best wishes, Jack Kevorkian, M.D."

Over the next weeks they stayed in touch, as Kevorkian helped Gary find a private home to die in. He explained that the Michigan state legislature was moving fast to ban physician-assisted suicide. Gary speeded up his planning, had a psychiatric evaluation and assembled a meeting with family members and their minister to talk through his decision. He had attended a Unitarian church growing up, but has since drifted away from faith. When I think about dying, there's a preparation I have to go through. I've always had a sense that there's an afterlife. When we leave, I believe that we're going somewhere else. We leave behind a body, but a spirit moves on.

Late last month Kevorkian called again. I think his words were something to the effect, "We have to wrap this up. How soon can you be here?" I thought for about 10 or 15 seconds and I said, "One week." Kevorkian assured him that there was still time, that the law would not take effect until next April and that Gary could change his mind. Kevorkian has said he has no intention of obeying the law anyway. Gary meanwhile is taking things day by day. We have now completed everything that Jack asked us to do. They're going to shut him down April 1, and I'm going to be one of the lifeboats off the Titanic. I'm thinking somewhere between January and March. It could be sooner. The luxury of having more time is gone.

I look at my situation like a war. If you take it from the beginning, there were a lot of battles. Some of them I won. In the final analysis, I may not win this war. But I fought back hard. I don't want to die, but I don't want to live like this.