become.Mymother,tearing,saidshewouldbetherefor
him.Shewouldbehappytotakecareofhim.Alreadythe
shifthadstarted.Hewashavingherdomoreandmoreof
thedriving,and shearrangedhismedicalappointments
now.
What were his goals if his condition worsened, I asked?
Hethoughtonthisforamoment.Hewantedtofinishhis
Rotary responsibilities, he decided—he would be
finishinghisterminmid-June.Andhewantedtomake
surehiscollegeandfamilyinIndiaweregoingtobeall
right. He wanted to visit them if he could.
Iaskedhimwhattrade-offshewaswillingtomakeand
notwillingtomaketotrytostopwhatwashappeningto
him.Hewasn’tsurewhatImeant.ItoldhimaboutSusan
Block’sfather,who’dalsohadaspinalcordtumor.He’d
saidthatifhecouldstillwatchfootballontelevisionand
eatchocolateicecream,thatwouldbegoodenoughfor
him.
Mydaddidn’tthinkthatwouldbegoodenoughforhim
atall.Beingwithpeopleandinteractingwiththemwas
what he cared about most, he said. I tried to
understand—soevenparalysiswouldbetolerableaslong
as he could enjoy people’s company?
“No,” he said. He couldn’t accept a life of complete
physicalparalysis,ofneedingtotalcare.Hewantedtobe
capableofnotonlybeingwithpeoplebutalsostillbeing
in charge of his world and life.
Hisadvancingquadriplegiathreatenedtotakethataway
soon.Itwouldmeantwenty-four-hournursingcare,then