I haven’t even died yet, and people are already telling me why I mattered. What began as an announcement about death with dignity has become something stranger: a living wake, a practical reckoning, and an argument with pain over how much time is still worth buying.
While I have spent more than a year now living in Colombia, I know better than to ever think that my Colombia is Colombia. My Colombia has porters screening visitors at the front door. An elevator, grocery delivery, doctors I pay out of pocket, friends who translate, young men who appear via WhatsApp with impossible…
I have decided to pursue Death with Dignity in Colombia. It’s weird as fuck, but it also feels right. For me. Michael and I are still trying to go home, though no longer in the same way. There is more to tell, and I don’t want to make this trip alone. You are invited to come along.
Coming out once was about telling the world I was gay. Coming out again is about telling the truth I left out the first time—about desire, age, intimacy, younger adult men, and the parts of my sexual life I once thought were better left unexplained. At 70, I’m less interested in respectability than in being accurately understood.
Would I do it again? I would not duplicate it. I would budget better, prepare differently and trust more carefully. But that still doesn’t answer the question I thought I was asking.
A Typical Pain Day: What You Don’t See on Social Media I’d like to think that much of the time, with a few exceptions, when you see me in a video or read something I have posted, you are seeing me during the more functional part of my day. Even that has become a vulnerable,…
I came to Colombia intending to tell other people’s stories. Instead, the Pain Demon commandeered the driver’s seat and made Michael and me the story. What began as a late-life reinvention has become a medical crisis, an uncomfortable request for help, and an unexpected lesson in what community can still mean.
RUNNING AWAY TO COLOMBIA—PT5
A successful procedure briefly gives me back the ability to walk. When the pain returns and our support system begins to change, Michael and I must confront what comes next.
RUNNING AWAY TO COLOMBIA—PT4
I came to Colombia to keep moving. Instead, walking gives way to pain, a bright blue rollator, medical appointments, and limits I can no longer ignore.
RUNNING AWAY FROM COLOMBIA—PT 3
Michael and I arrive in Bucaramanga with four suitcases and a one-month Airbnb, then take a chance on an imperfect apartment with good bones and begin turning it into a home.
