I have checked out of the hospital and am now back at my friend’s house. Tomorrow the out-patient radiation treatment will be starting. The amazing good fortune we have experienced this week is impossible to describe. I was admitted into the hospital on Monday because the CT scan taken of me as an emergency room patient that showed brain metastases also showed—falsely—bleeding on the brain. The fact that I was checked into the hospital made the full panoply of tests and doctors’ consultations automatically and smoothly available to me, including, most importantly, the treatment that will begin tomorrow (correction: Monday). If I had approached all this as an out-patient in New York City, it would have taken a long, miserable slog to have gotten where I’ve now gotten—something like what I went through during the previous seven weeks when I was trying to get help with my intestinal problems.
In accordance with my policy of always speaking what I think is the truth, even a truth that sounds very odd, so long as it is of value and not inappropriate, I have to say that right now I am happy. And, based on the way I feel now, I see the possibilility that the journey toward my death will be happy. I don’t know that it will be. It could be horrible. But it could be happy, a peaceful opening-up toward an ever-new fulfillment that perhaps will only truly begin with death.