Coincidence

"Good morning, Doctor," I said to the excellent customer at the Bottom Shelf. He's usually there early in the morning. He knows what he likes and makes decisions quickly.

"What do you like best about shopping here," I asked him recently.

"This is a gold mine for the discerning collector," he said and added quietly,

"You know, I'm a dying man. But this is one of my pleasures."

"What?" I said.

"Right now—I'm all hooked up with leads to a Holter monitor. It's just a matter of time for me." He lowered his head back to the $.10 bookshelf.

"Is this a coincidence or what?" I said, laughing hard. I whipped open my loose jacket to expose the monitor dangling around my neck.

 "I'm wearing the same thing!"

No reaction from the doctor. It was an awkward situation—my jacket gaping and my impulsive words hanging in the air between us. It was a good time to stop talking but instead of shutting up, I talked more and faster.

"But I'm not dying just yet, I hope. Only monitoring my heartbeat to see if I have Afib. I thought it was routine." I laughed some more and waited for him to join me. But he didn't think it was funny as I did. He was somber-looking as he quoted Epicurus —the art of living well and dying well are one.  

I stopped laughing and said goodbye. I never know how to answer somebody who quotes.  

When I got home, I googled the quote to see if I'd missed something in our exchange and I found this statement which put words to my friend's frame of mind. Personally, I can't see the value of viewing all of your unfolding life as a prelude to death. And I don't get the notion of living and dying being of equal value. 

“You are a beautiful person, Doctor. Clearheaded. Strong. But you seem always to be dragging your heart along the ground. From now on, little by little, you must prepare yourself to face death. If you devote all of your future energy to living, you will not be able to die well. You must begin to shift gears, a little at a time. Living and dying are, in a sense, of equal value."--Nimit in "Thailand” 
― Haruki Murakami, After the Quake