The Hunter lost a childhood friend this week. This guy was a high school buddy, hunting partner and more. They were close. The Hunter got him his last job which fortunately had fantastic health benefits. The benefits came in handy when he was diagnosed with cancer.
The Hunter had visited his friend several times and brought him joints to ease his pain. They talked about old times. His friend did not want to suffer. The pain was intense. The pot helped.
Then he couldn’t take it any longer. The pain intensified. The hospice doctor stopped by to give him morphine. He didn’t want the morphine. Instead he refused it, sent everyone packing out of his room. Then, with the doctor in the living room, he shot himself. He knew how and effectively ended his pain with a bullet.
The Hunter and I talked about how his friend must have planned this. He waited until he had a medical professional in the house. He refused the morphine so he was lucid. The Hunter thinks he must have coaxed his adult son into giving him the loaded weapon days before. We both think it took courage to do what he did.
Me, I would have hoarded pills. I couldn’t shoot myself. Taz tells me of the botched suicides she sees in the ER. I would botch it for sure.
The wife called The Hunter. “You are in almost every picture of his teenage years. I never realized how really close the two of you were.” She was never much of a fan of the Hunters, but now he is the voice of calm gentleness that she needs. The Hunter will be taking all the guns out of their house soon so they will be secure. It’s been a sad week for the family and the Hunter. My heart goes out to them all. R.I.P. dear friend. You will be missed.