My old friend, Arman, came over this morning and brought some fresh lentil dal. It was still warm. It’s loaded with chunks of fresh ginger and jalapen̈o, which makes it pretty fiery. It’s really delicious. I wish I had some fresh veggies, but all I’ve got is some lettuce. That will have to do.

I’ve been down now for 11 days with a hip flexor injury. Arman has been very present for this while he is having some terrible health issues of his own. I have determined off and on for the last, more than 20 years, to kick him to the curb, and I have occasionally. Once I did for more than five years. But then he always came back into my life but at different levels. In the beginning, as a lover. Now like an old friend.

When I had cancer back in 2004/2005, he was there for me the entire time, but then as a lover. He was there while I lost my hair, threw up and peed and pooped with little control… He was there through weekly chemo treatments, with a bloody wound, that went from my netherlands all the way up to my boobs and a sore and irritated port in my chest.

He would sit with me at home and take naps with me for hours, and take me for rides for entertainment, since I couldn’t even walk. He took me sometimes to a nude beach on the Columbia to bask in the sun to dry out my wounds. Once I could finally keep liquids down, we’d stop at a Mcminamin’s and I would drink coffee with cream and a shot of brandy.

He never once said a negative word about my bruised, punctured and battered body. He never complained once about me losing my waist length golden hair. He celebrated with me when my hair began to come in, rubbing it gently with the palms of his hands.

I had only known him for 6 months when I was diagnosed with a killer cancer. I knew I was going to be extremely sick and that I might not even make it. I told him that he didn’t need to stick around for this. He just answered gently in his melodic Indian accent, “What kind of a person would I be to leave you now?” And so he stayed and loved me through it all.

For 24 years, he has never stopped calling me, even when I would be so angry with him that I would beg him to stop. No one in this world has made me more angry and more frustrated than Arman. Part of it has been the incompatibility of our two cultures. Other issues such as personal style, educational and economic levels, his culture’s attitude towards women, all presented huge obstacles to our relationship. But he never gave up. He is still a part of my life, as frustrated as I still get with him.

So now it’s my turn. At 72, he has developed serious health issues. This once healthy and robust man seems to be falling apart. As a restaurant owner, he never once missed a day of work in 27 years. He was a long distance bike enthusiast. He was a runner. But now disease is racking his body. From day-to-day, it’s one thing after another with doctors visits, hospital stays and handfuls of prescription drugs. Yet, he just keeps going. He still makes me delicious indian food. This morning, he brought me the lentil dal. On other days, he might show up with ice cream or other Indian dishes.

He is a Sikh who believes that god is in control of everything, therefore he doesn’t complain. Whatever happens in his life, be it good or bad, he gives god thanks. He has tried fervently to get me to believe in god, and is mildly frustrated with me that I can’t seem to find a reason to believe that there even is a god. Not only does he believe in his religion, he attends temple regularly. As well, he’s a believer in the traditions of his culture. Though he has been in the United States for over 30 years, his language skills are just barely sufficient. He has relied heavily on other people (mostly women) to help him through business dealings and health issues.

That has been my role in his life for decades. There have been times when I’ve been glad to assist and other times when I have resented his reliance on me and other times when I rejected this role and stepped away from him. When legal issues came up, I helped him, but I helped him in unveiled great anger. For one egregious violation, I even charged him hourly for my work, claiming I was done with free assistance. I lost all trust and respect for him.

Arman has a lot of street smarts, to the point where he could run a successful business for over twenty years. And yet so stupid in other ways. We were and always had been unequally yoked. I, an educated, career-oriented woman, who never had even a scrape with the law, and he having had, to date, 6 ugly charges against him. All of these charges were warranted because of his volition. The last time in court with him, I was embarrassed, in front of the judge, the lawyers and the district attorney, that I was even associated with him. I told myself then, that I would never again involve myself in any of his legal battles. But, as they say, money talks. It was aggravating to me that, though he was guilty on all counts, that his high powered lawyers helped him to walk away Scott free. I thought that if he could only suffer the consequences of his actions once, that he might change. Arman is not a bad person, just ignorant in some ways.

But maybe there is something real about karma. Now he’s suffering. Really suffering. But not to his mind. God is in charge, and his god knows what he’s doing.

It’s not that I feel responsible or obligated to help him through this difficult time in his life. But I cannot forget all of the years that I’ve known him and his incredible kindness when I was going through my cancer journey. He’s a selfish man. And yet, in some ways, he’s incredibly generous. He’s a stubborn man and set in his ways and yet, has never given up on me. You might accuse me of the many times I acquiesced when I should have walked away. But I didn’t, and here we are now. He’s sick.

And I will say, like he did to me so many years ago, “What kind of a person would I be to leave you now?”

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PS: i have changed the name to protect the innocent or shall we say the guilty?. To those who know me and have been with me throughout this journey, will know who i’m talking about. But for those who don’t, know that I am talking about a real person.