Dear Ray

I have a very old friend. It's not his age that is old, it is the length of time we have known each other. We met, or should I say I introduced myself to him, at the beginning of freshman year in college. I can still remember the first time I saw him walking on campus in his high school wrestling letter jacket. Do high schools still do that? Have letter jackets?

Ray in High School. He still looked like this Freshman year. Cute, right?

He and I have been in and out of touch throughout the years. No matter what, even though we have grown, changed, and went our separate ways, we still have a connection. We can get mad at each other, think the other one is obnoxious, wonder "WTF!" about each other, but there is still that abiding love and respect. (Right now my pal would have to add a comment like, "Maybe for you," and then laugh.)

We were young and stupid when we met. That we both agree on. I could have treated him better and he could have been more assertive. Should have, could have, would have. It doesn't matter. It was and we are.

Ray has been sick for a very long time. He used to drink. A lot and often. When I introduced myself to him, we were at a bar. Being naive and sheltered at the time, I didn't know how to recognize alcoholism. I still think Ray hid it from me, but he disagrees...I think.

Anyway, he drank himself into needing and receiving a liver transplant. He did quit drinking and hasn't partook in nearly 20 years. You have to give him a lot of credit! This is just one reason I respect him.

Since then, his kidneys were damaged and he is on kidney dialysis awaiting another organ transplant. Here is what is probably an incomplete list of what has happened since:

• 4 hernia operations
• Fluid removed from his brain
• 3 strokes
• Open heart surgery to replace a heart valve

Recently, he is back in the hospital. His back was hurting and then he couldn't breath. After living through a painful backbone biopsy where the instrument got stuck in his back during the procedure and having a tube put in his back between 2 ribs to drain infected fluid from his lungs, he finds out he has a staff infection in his bones and elsewhere. The heart valve he had put in not that long ago is infected, too, so that needs to be replaced.

He has all kinds of doctors taking care of him. He says the nurses are wonderful. Ray is now a case study and interns are learning about him.

Last night, I spoke to Ray on the phone. He told me that one of the docs isn't comfortable replacing his heart valve until they check out the possible blood clot in his brain. What?! The past week or so, Ray keeps revealing a new problem the docs have discovered. I am speechless, over and over. I wonder to myself, "How is he doing it? How does he keep going?"

Ray laughs on the phone at one of his bad jokes. I roll my eyes on the other end and I'm sure he can hear me do it. He says he keeps going because he has to. He tries not to think about it. Last week he confessed that he did think about drinking once but it was brief. It wouldn't get him anywhere.

A few days ago he told me about a ghost that resides in his hospital room. A few times it has walked by his bed and squeezed his toes. It also makes noises in the bathroom. When he said, "Hello there," to the ghost, it responded by giggling.

We both believe in past lives. Because of all the physical suffering he has gone through and continues to experience, he is convinced he was Hitler and Karma is taking its toll.

What I know to be fact is that I have never heard him moan, "Why me?" I have never heard him feel sorry for himself. Sure he has cried. I mean, come on! He tells me he keeps fighting because there is no other choice. Spoken like a true wrestler. You don't stop until you are pinned and the ref calls it.