Misfortune or Luck?

Tony and John have been clients at the clinic forever. They run a dachshund rescue. Yeah, go ahead and laugh, the irony of two gay men running around saving the weiners... it's funny. They're good people. They're extravagant and beautiful. John is the more conservative of the two. He's got the manly voice, wears your average manly clothes, drives your average manly car. Tony, on the other hand. He's boisterous, flamboyant, wears loud prints, always with the shirt unbuttoned to display his broad and hairy chest. He drives the little convertible Miata, vacations in places like Amsterdam, is quick to laugh. An overall loveable guy. Whether or not you approve of their lifestyle, you can't help but feel drawn to Tony.

John's got cancer. I've watched him whither over the past few years. Tony, he's got AIDS. Yeah, go ahead with the stereo-types. Whatever. He's dying. Lately both of them have been in and out of the hospital for one reason or another. It hurts to watch them slip slowly away like this. Every time they stop by they just seem a little more... hmmm... what's the word? Dim? The way stars seem to fade just before sunrise.

Wednesday night Tony was in a car wreck. The other car was a fault. Ran the red light, completely destroyed that little blue Miata. Tony survived, only to suffer cardiac arrest on the side of the road. He coded, they did CPR for 20 minutes. Although he's breathing again, he's completely unresponsive.

My first reaction was "How cruel can God be? As if their lives haven't been difficult enough!" But now I wonder, is this really just a way of giving him a break from the agony of a slow AIDS death? Perhaps this is the gentler way to go.