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ablation
fear I’m starting to resemble
him…
To die. To choose the time,
the place, and the manner,
discrete or spectacular.
To leave a note or to go
si lently wi thout leaving
anything behind. Suicide,
among other things, is
mundane and without major
consequences. I will depart
and leave everything in
order. It is an inherited habit
from my father who never
permitted untidiness. I will
give my clothes to Catholic
Services, my books to the
central research library, my
photos to my oldest son, my
non-published poems to my
granddaughter who at 12 has
already written some nice
things, my records will stay
where they are because no
one still uses 33s…
Will I leave behind a suicide
note? I hesitate. What is
there to say to my family, my
friends, or my colleagues? I
shot myself because I can no
longer get it up? What then?
Do people kill themselves
for that? For something so
small! Not just for that, but
for a bunch of reasons that
accumulate and make life
unlivable. Kill yourself now?
Now that the hardest and
most humiliating part is over?
It pained me to think of those
horrible diapers that I had to
change multiple times a day.
It makes me nauseous just
thinking about it. There, that
would have been the perfect
time to refuse this inhumane
treatment. A treatment
that no dignified man can
accept without suf fering,
without being taken over by
shame, a silent shame, cold,
insidious. I functioned with
a spirit completely occupied