Living with dignity
I met Ivar Vikingstad only once — on Saturday, July 26, 2008, in his home, which had become a hospice in the late stages of his cancer. I never expected to meet him at all; I had been told he was not taking visitors and hadn’t eaten in nearly a week. Not wanting to disturb, I had dropped off a brief letter days earlier saying The Bridge would be putting together a story. I offered my phone number, if he wanted to contact me, and I mentioned I would be interested in any photos he might have to accompany it.
Instead, I got a call from his friend, who said Ivar had received my letter. She had a photo, so I agreed to stop by the house and pick it up and speak to Ivar’s wife Carol. After a half-hour conversation on the front steps, Carol asked if I wanted to say hello to Ivar. She went inside and returned to say he did in fact want to see me.
Inside, Ivar was sitting up on his bed. He told me to sit next to him and speak into the microphone device he uses in order to hear. I launched into a fast ramble about how I was glad to be able to meet him, and an explanation of the newspaper story. In his labored voice, he asked me to speak up and more slowly, neither of which I did very well. He was clearly frustrated with my lack of communication and finally stopped to catch his breath and rest from the pain he was in.
Then, a great thing happened: Ivar took charge. He asked for the digital camera near his bed, turned it on and showed me a photo of the portrait that appears on page 2. Then, the man I had been told could barely move stood up and, defiant of the initial protest of his wife, walked into the next room, inserted the memory card into his digital printer and began scrolling through the print menu. After the first and second attempts failed, he said “I know what the problem is.” He changed some settings, pushed the “print photos” button, and out came the postcard-sized print.
It was a simple act made difficult by his physical weakness, but in that moment I felt like I had really met Ivar Vikingstad. Here was the sharp-minded, do-it-yourself philosopher I had heard about. What was a simple act for him was an important moment for me. I realized how strong he really was and what a difficult thing it is to take control of your life and live it fully. And in the end, what an even braver thing to do the same with death. How dignified. And why would a man who had lived life on his own terms choose to end it any other way?
last revised: August 11, 2008