“When I die, just cremate me and scatter my ashes in the Colorado River.”

I had come to terms with my fate. The burning pain in my stomach flared up again—it hurt, it really hurt—but I calmly made arrangements for my own death.

Dr. King looked displeased, and my mother cried so much she became a mess of tears.

I weakly wiped them away. “I’ve left you a lot of money, Mom. You’ll have to live well on your own. I’m so tired. I need to rest now.”

As I hovered between life and death, I could feel the strength draining from my fingertips. My hands slowly slipped down as...