Sequels of ’95 : They...

The cancer Timothy Leary revealed he had has now spread from his prostate to his hip, making it difficult for him to walk at times (“The Terminal Man,” Aug. 28).

He is so thin that when you touch him even lightly on the arm, you can feel the bone. He sometimes loses his train of thought mid-sentence.

But Leary is not about to go gently.

“Until this happened, I never realized all the privileges and perks there were to being a dying man,” he says with an elfin grin. “I got off the plane in San Francisco and there was this charming woman waiting for me with a wheelchair. People everywhere take care of me.”

That trip earlier this month was probably the last for Leary, a psychologist who became famous during the 1960s for championing the use of psychedelic drugs.

“I don’t think I’ll be doing any more traveling,” he says, “at least not in this equipment.”

His days are now spent at home working on a variety of book and multimedia projects, talking with friends on the telephone and corresponding via the Internet. And he works on the final plans for his death.

“When I can no longer talk, when I can’t walk, when I can’t watch ‘Monday Night Football’ anymore,” he says, “then it will be time.”