We used to go out to a local luncheonette and talk about food. Food had become very important to him. It was crucial that he keep his weight up. I had been struggling o keep my weight up for extremely different reasons. Although my motive was vanity and his was survival, he still relished helping me with my task. As we slurped milkshake after milkshake he spoke hopefully about how he was going to beat the disease. And when he would get sick and then recover he felt joy not just because he passed through one illness on the way to another but because it was evidence that he was going to prevail.

The last time I saw Stuart was at the hospital in Austin, Texas. He looked very thin. His gauntness made his eyes seem bigger and sadder. His condition was fairly advanced and things must have been seeming hopeless. But I remember walking around with him at the physicial therapy center of the hospital when ever step in the corridor was like climbing a mountain. The expression on his face when he was struggling on the stationery bicycle was an incredible mixture of pain and determination. And he did win that battle, even though the doctors thought he wouldn’t. He recovered enough so he could check out of the hospital.