Farewell, kind Earth

robindch

Oliver Sacks, the author of the quirky, excellent book The Man who Mistook his Wife for a Hat, was recently diagnosed with terminal cancer and wrote the following article on learning of it. Is it worth a special thread for people saying goodbye with panache? Or has it been done before and forgotten?

Anyhow, Oliver, take it away:

http://www.nytimes.com/2015/02/19/opinion/oliver-sacks-on-learning-he-has-terminal-cancer.html

Oliver Sacks wrote:

A MONTH ago, I felt that I was in good health, even robust health. At 81, I still swim a mile a day. But my luck has run out — a few weeks ago I learned that I have multiple metastases in the liver. Nine years ago it was discovered that I had a rare tumor of the eye, an ocular melanoma. Although the radiation and lasering to remove the tumor ultimately left me blind in that eye, only in very rare cases do such tumors metastasize. I am among the unlucky 2 percent.

I feel grateful that I have been granted nine years of good health and productivity since the original diagnosis, but now I am face to face with dying. The cancer occupies a third of my liver, and though its advance may be slowed, this particular sort of cancer cannot be halted.

It is up to me now to choose how to live out the months that remain to me. I have to live in the richest, deepest, most productive way I can. In this I am encouraged by the words of one of my favorite philosophers, David Hume, who, upon learning that he was mortally ill at age 65, wrote a short autobiography in a single day in April of 1776. He titled it “My Own Life.” “I now reckon upon a speedy dissolution,” he wrote. “I have suffered very little pain from my disorder; and what is more strange, have, notwithstanding the great decline of my person, never suffered a moment’s abatement of my spirits. I possess the same ardour as ever in study, and the same gaiety in company.”

I have been lucky enough to live past 80, and the 15 years allotted to me beyond Hume’s three score and five have been equally rich in work and love. In that time, I have published five books and completed an autobiography (rather longer than Hume’s few pages) to be published this spring; I have several other books nearly finished. Hume continued, “I am ... a man of mild dispositions, of command of temper, of an open, social, and cheerful humour, capable of attachment, but little susceptible of enmity, and of great moderation in all my passions.”

Here I depart from Hume. While I have enjoyed loving relationships and friendships and have no real enmities, I cannot say (nor would anyone who knows me say) that I am a man of mild dispositions. On the contrary, I am a man of vehement disposition, with violent enthusiasms, and extreme immoderation in all my passions. And yet, one line from Hume’s essay strikes me as especially true: “It is difficult,” he wrote, “to be more detached from life than I am at present.”

Over the last few days, I have been able to see my life as from a great altitude, as a sort of landscape, and with a deepening sense of the connection of all its parts. This does not mean I am finished with life. On the contrary, I feel intensely alive, and I want and hope in the time that remains to deepen my friendships, to say farewell to those I love, to write more, to travel if I have the strength, to achieve new levels of understanding and insight.

This will involve audacity, clarity and plain speaking; trying to straighten my accounts with the world. But there will be time, too, for some fun (and even some silliness, as well). I feel a sudden clear focus and perspective. There is no time for anything inessential. I must focus on myself, my work and my friends. I shall no longer look at “NewsHour” every night. I shall no longer pay any attention to politics or arguments about global warming.

This is not indifference but detachment — I still care deeply about the Middle East, about global warming, about growing inequality, but these are no longer my business; they belong to the future. I rejoice when I meet gifted young people — even the one who biopsied and diagnosed my metastases. I feel the future is in good hands.

I have been increasingly conscious, for the last 10 years or so, of deaths among my contemporaries. My generation is on the way out, and each death I have felt as an abruption, a tearing away of part of myself. There will be no one like us when we are gone, but then there is no one like anyone else, ever. When people die, they cannot be replaced. They leave holes that cannot be filled, for it is the fate — the genetic and neural fate — of every human being to be a unique individual, to find his own path, to live his own life, to die his own death.

I cannot pretend I am without fear. But my predominant feeling is one of gratitude. I have loved and been loved; I have been given much and I have given something in return; I have read and traveled and thought and written. I have had an intercourse with the world, the special intercourse of writers and readers.

Above all, I have been a sentient being, a thinking animal, on this beautiful planet, and that in itself has been an enormous privilege and adventure.

magicbastarder

one of the (few) times i got stoned, i overdid it slightly, and it was just after i'd finished 'the man who mistook his wife for a hat'. bad idea.

Kivaro

Thanks for sharing Robin.

"My generation is on the way out, and each death I have felt as an abruption, a tearing away of part of myself."

As we all get older and lose family and friends, this is a feeling that I can relate to.

The Black Oil

A real shame.

There's a Radiolab podcast episode that's well worth listening to.

Hotblack Desiato

Kivaro wrote: »

Thanks for sharing Robin.

"My generation is on the way out, and each death I have felt as an abruption, a tearing away of part of myself."

As we all get older and lose family and friends, this is a feeling that I can relate to.

Not quite old enough for that yet, myself

I do find it hard however to feel sorry at the whittling away of the generation who enthused over the 8th amendment, who voted against divorce (twice) and who support tax rises for struggling families so that the wealthiest 10% of pensioners can keep their medical cards.

robindch

Terry Pratchett has died. Not much more news than that for the moment - not that there needs to be any.

http://www.bbc.com/news/entertainment-arts-31858156

robindch

robindch wrote: »

Oliver Sacks, the author of the quirky, excellent book The Man who Mistook his Wife for a Hat, was recently diagnosed with terminal cancer and wrote the following article on learning of it. Is it worth a special thread for people saying goodbye with panache? Or has it been done before and forgotten?

Oliver Sacks has died:

http://www.nytimes.com/2015/08/31/science/oliver-sacks-dies-at-82-neurologist-and-author-explored-the-brains-quirks.html

legspin

robindch wrote: »

Terry Pratchett has died. Not much more news than that for the moment - not that there needs to be any.

http://www.bbc.com/news/entertainment-arts-31858156

His last book was published yesterday.
I haven't had the courage to buy it yet. I just can't get past that there will be never be another new Pratchett novel to look forward to.

Absolam

legspin wrote: »

His last book was published yesterday.
I haven't had the courage to buy it yet. I just can't get past that there will be never be another new Pratchett novel to look forward to.

I bought it as soon as it came out, but can't bring myself to start reading it yet. Once I start, I'll be nearly finished. And once I'm finished, that's the end

legspin

Absolam wrote: »

I bought it as soon as it came out, but can't bring myself to start reading it yet. Once I start, I'll be nearly finished. And once I'm finished, that's the end

I read a review in the Guardian which starts with one of the most heart-breaking spoilers I have ever seen. I actually had a little sob when I read it.

panda100

I rarely feel compelled to jump on the 'celebrity' death bandwagon but Oliver Sachs is one person whom I really truly admired. His neurological insights were fascinating and ignited in me a real interest in the area to the extent that I now work with individuals with acquired brain injury. His thoughts on religion and neurochemistry were equally as interesting. He will be missed.

robindch

Some of Oliver Sacks' more memorable pieces:

http://longform.org/posts/oliver-sacks-1933-2015

J C

robindch wrote: »

Oliver Sacks has died:

http://www.nytimes.com/2015/08/31/science/oliver-sacks-dies-at-82-neurologist-and-author-explored-the-brains-quirks.html

Very sorry to hear that.

Quote Oliver Sacks
"Over the last few days, I have been able to see my life as from a great altitude, as a sort of landscape, and with a deepening sense of the connection of all its parts. This does not mean I am finished with life. On the contrary, I feel intensely alive, and I want and hope in the time that remains to deepen my friendships, to say farewell to those I love, to write more, to travel if I have the strength, to achieve new levels of understanding and insight."

Would that everybody could approach death with such fortitude ... I can understand where he is coming from and I salute his joie de vivre right to the end.
An amazing person.
He had many witty quotable quotes and observations ... one of my favourites is this sweet and (at the same time) sad one, when he had reached 80 years of age:-
"Eighty! I can hardly believe it. I often feel that life is about to begin, only to realize it is almost over."

robindch

One of Oliver Sacks' final interviews:

http://www.radiolab.org/story/remembering-oliver-sacks/