Abstract
In this micro-memoir, I show how I adopted, like John Keats, a “posthumous existence.” I draw a parallel between his terminal tuberculosis and my own diagnosis of End-Stage Renal Failure though not between his brilliant talent as a poet and my own humble skills as an academic developer and writer. I also express my support for the idea of playing dead as a writer as suggested by the Nobel prizewinner Nadine Gordimer.
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