The Nearness of Others: Searching for Tact and Contact in the Age of HIV

Star Exit

Diagnosis 49 StarExit Planning is everything. On my first visit to the AIDS clinic at the hospital, and right after I was told it would be extremely unlikely that I would ever die because of HIV, I was also urged to write my last will and testament, give a trusted person power of attorney over my affairs, register a living will, and so on.To expedite matters,I was handed a pile of forms and documents to attend to right away. They sat on my kitchen table for many weeks until, one day, they had entirely vanished under a pile of bills, recipes I had cut out from the New York Times but will never cook, articles I had promised myself to read without delay but never will, and other such stuff that just could not wait but did. Eventually I put all the documents pertaining to my death away on a shelf somewhere. I imagine they’re still there. If I should die in bed, I have several models to choose from. For a long time, I had a special fondness for Bette Davis’s death in Dark Victory. Forewarned of her imminent demise by the onset of blindness that strikes her as she is tending her garden with a friend, she walks slowly up the stairs to her bedroom, half clutching half caressing the banister (because she’s blind, you see),lies down on her bed,and,looking fabulous,waits for death to take her. Other than for the Max Steiner score, the whole scene is rather moving in a simple sort of way. For a second, she thinks clouds are moving in, but not at all: it’s that rare kind of brain tumor that is finally catching up with her.One of Bette Davis’s finest moments, to be sure, and she simply looks ravishing in the entire movie.Yet I am tempted by something a little less understated (and which doesn’t involve gardening), something more along the lines of the death of Juanita Moore at the end of Imitation of Life perhaps—­ as long as Lana Turner doesn’t get all the best close-­ ups. A grandiose service in a monumental black church may be a bit much to ask, though, especially in Ann Arbor, but the horse-­ drawn carriage I find hard to resist. Especially in Ann Arbor. In Camille, Garbo expires divinely from consumption in the arms of her lover, but that requires a lover.And consumption. Instead, I could walk sensuously into the ocean like Joan Crawford in Humoresque. It’s noble, highly cinematic, and easier on your friends, but I’m not sure Lake Huron would do the trick. I need waves. Of course, I could always go for Marlene Dietrich ’s death in Dishonored. There’s something rather appealing about dying all tarted up and dressed like a whore. But let’s face it, my chances of getting my hands on a Prussian firing squad are rather slim. I’ll think of something. ...