My Terminally Ill Friend Killed Herself. This Is Our Last Conversation
Aug 31, 2016, 10:43 AM
Three years ago, doctors told my close friend Betsy Davis that her body was going to soon fail her in every way. I had met her through friends in our 20s at The Brewery in downtown L.A., a scrappy-fabulous old brewery-turned artists’ loft campus. We’d dated the same guy, and thus became fast friends, ripping up lands from the Coachella music fest to Venice restaurants to the Kentucky Derby (my turf). The diagnosis was ALS, or Lou Gehrig’s Disease.