Comment by Waterluvian
5 hours ago
I’m not sure there’s anything that evokes a more discordant set of emotions in me than an optimistic cancer fighter. I feel fear, frustration, hope, joy, confusion, anger…
When I was a teen I watched my mom battle cancer to a draw. Only in my late 30s did the repressed memories start returning. I got to remember her voice again, but I also got to remember the rest. And now my only plan is to just not get cancer, because it’s all far too much to even think about.
I don’t pity Craig, I envy him. I’m jealous, even. Because he’s discovered or was always imbued with the power to fight an unfair battle on his terms. If it’s ever my turn I hope I can be like him.
My mom fought like this and died slowly. Dad didn't and died fast. I admire Mr. Hockenberry's courage and my mom's, because I'm pretty sure I don't have it. It's easier for me to face death than that injection. I guess I take after dad. I plan to rage against the dying of the light, and then fold.
If you can make that joke about your spinal tap going to eleven, you are a tough motherfucker.
I think there was a post here a few months back on how most doctors (when sick with terminal disease) decide against medical interventions and die on their own terms.
It's a tough decision.
My husband is the same as you. He doesn't want to prolong the inevitable and suffer needlessly. Whether you fight or not, we all die eventually. And he would rather be equanimous with it than rage against it. I admire his courage. And yours.
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