Here's the problem with knowing you're dying...
If it's a diagnosed terminal illness it's usually a slow, painful, debilitating death. As much as we'd all love to burn through the last few months or weeks of life like hell on wheels, spitting bullets, and shitting lightning, it's not always possible.
Chemo is extremely hard on the body, some are too tired to get out of bed, or can hardly keep food down. In the end we all face death alone, even if we're surrounded with friends and family. It takes time to rationalize what's happening and to come to grips with your own mortality, never mind the physical limitations of a slow death. I've seen people die before, it isn't fun, the most vibrant fun loving people are slowly reduced to shells of their former selves, like a a grey paper husk wrapped around a skeleton. In the final days they're often too doped up to maintain lucidity, let alone understand what's going on.
I'd love to go out in a blaze of glory, but I have a feeling that I, like most of you will die a slow death in a hospital bed, staring into the black void before the lights go out, the sheet comes up, and the bowels void.
(makes it sound kind of depressing don't it?)
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