Time, it seemed, had come.

Roy Nagahara said his final farewells to family and friends, then turned to his wife, Irene, as the medical staff removed the breathing tube from his throat.

Nagahara had gone to the hospital 12 days earlier with severe pneumonia, his heart and lungs so weak that doctors placed him on a resuscitator just to stabilize him enough to run tests.

Already compromised by a pair of strokes, Nagahara’s condition continued to worsen. After five days on the resuscitator, Nagahara could bear no more. He wanted the tube removed, even though he knew it meant he would almost certainly die.

"So they pulled it out and I put my head down, closed my eyes and waited," Nagahara said of that April day. "After a couple of seconds, I looked around and said, ‘Eh, I’m still alive.’ So I put my head down again, closed my eyes and fell asleep.

"Ten minutes later I opened my eyes again and I was still alive. So I told the doc, ‘I guess it’s not my day.’"

No surprise there. Over 67 eventful years — 38 with his beloved, long-suffering Irene — Nagahara has been a frequent visitor to White Light Land.

On his and Irene’s fifth wedding anniversary, Nagahara suffered anaphylaxis after drinking a margarita. He survived, but not before experiencing a vision of the other side that convinced him that death was nothing to fear.

Another time, a bleeding ulcer caused his blood volume to plummet to near-fatal levels. It took a 3-pint transfusion to save him.

Even after surviving the removal of the breathing tube, Nagahara’s prospects for survival were so bleak that he was placed in hospice. Less than a month later, he was back in the hospital, this time battling a ferocious MRSA infection that ate away a portion of his left arm.

"My doctor told me I could have died at least seven times," Nagahara said, laughing as always, back at his Moanalua home.

Nagahara’s ebullient nature belies the struggles he’s endured in his life, from the beatings he says he endured at the hands of his mother to the racial discrimination he suffered while in the Army to the crippling rheumatoid arthritis that forced him to retire from his job as a meat cutter for Safeway.

Yet, Nagahara continues to laugh, continues to make friends wherever he goes, in large part because of the redemptive love of his wife, who has spent most of the past year taking care of Nagahara while continuing to run her bridal shop, the Princess Bride, on Kapiolani Boulevard.

"Without Irene," Nagahara said, "I’m nobody."

There will come a day, of course, when Nagahara knocks on Death’s door and Death does not turn off the lights and pretend not to be home. Nagahara is ready.

"It’s OK." he said. "I tell everybody not to be afraid because it’s a wonderful place we’re all going to.

"I know. I’ve been there."

Reach Michael Tsai at mtsai@staradvertiser.com.