cancer diagnosis -- how to come to terms with impending mortality?
December 1, 2024 6:18 PM Subscribe
In late March/early April, I was diagnosed with an extremely rare cancer that, while not yet terminal, will definately take my life within the next 5 years. What can I do to come to terms with this?
It's been a rough 5 years. In January 2024, it seemed like the storms had abated -- pandemic (mostly) over, ugly divorce finalized, finances stabilizing, work life productive and empowering, teenage child thriving, a strong support network of friends -- and I felt poised to fly. But I've had the rug pulled out from under me in ways that I could never have imagined. I've been diagnosed with mixed acinar-neuroendocrine cancer of the pancreas, with metastases in multiple sites throughout my GI tract (and who knows where else). This is an extremely rare cancer -- stats suggest 1 diagnosis annually out of every 10 million people in the US. My case is stage 4, incurable and inoperable, with tumors that seem to be mildly agressive. I'm on chemo in an attempt to slow it down, but there's some strong evidence that the tumors are not particularly chemo receptive. After that, there's nothing left but clinical trials and faint hope.
All of this brings me to my question: how the fuck do I come to terms with this? Yes, I've found myself a therapist -- she's well respected, extremely experienced, with a background that includes working with hospice patients -- and she's already helped me a lot in the one month that I've been seeing her. But I think it would also be a good idea for me to try to work on this myself. I'll ask her for suggestions, but I'm hoping that some of you fine people might have some suggestions for me.
Some parameters: Despite what I do for a living (I prefer to be vague, but it involves that study of Judeo-Christian religious systems), I'm a convinced atheist. I find it easier to believe that we may have misconstrued the laws of nature than that there could ever be any kind of "divinity" in the universe (let alone one conceived of in the usual monotheistic ways). I'm not interested in tidy fairytales about an afterlife. I'm more struggling to deal with the indifference and randomness of nature and the meaning/meaninglessness of existence in the face of a universe that could never "care" about me or any of us. I kind of always figured I'd get cancer, but I assumed it would much later (I'm in my mid 50s) and that it would be a much more tractable kind. My diagnosis also has me struggling to come to terms with a cancer that doesn't really even have a clearly established protocol and is so rare that I would be more likely to be hit by lightening than to develop something so uncommon. I don't believe in sin in the usual manner, so I can't even blame myself.
Sorry, I recognize that these are ridiculously large questions. Go big or or go home, I guess.
I should also say that I find the language of violence that surrounds cancer to be extremely distasteful. I am not a "cancer warrior," nor am I "battling" this disease. I'm very bothered by the burden it places on the person affected, and the unspoken assumption that deaths from cancer mean that the patient didn't fight hard enough. I've got enough on my plate without dealing with that kind of judgy bullshit. I'm just trying to understand how to move forward in the time I have left without being constantly overwhelmed by grief and rage.
Any ideas? I can't work right now and am on medical leave. While the chemo is causing some mild cognitive issues, I think I can still read hard things.
It's been a rough 5 years. In January 2024, it seemed like the storms had abated -- pandemic (mostly) over, ugly divorce finalized, finances stabilizing, work life productive and empowering, teenage child thriving, a strong support network of friends -- and I felt poised to fly. But I've had the rug pulled out from under me in ways that I could never have imagined. I've been diagnosed with mixed acinar-neuroendocrine cancer of the pancreas, with metastases in multiple sites throughout my GI tract (and who knows where else). This is an extremely rare cancer -- stats suggest 1 diagnosis annually out of every 10 million people in the US. My case is stage 4, incurable and inoperable, with tumors that seem to be mildly agressive. I'm on chemo in an attempt to slow it down, but there's some strong evidence that the tumors are not particularly chemo receptive. After that, there's nothing left but clinical trials and faint hope.
All of this brings me to my question: how the fuck do I come to terms with this? Yes, I've found myself a therapist -- she's well respected, extremely experienced, with a background that includes working with hospice patients -- and she's already helped me a lot in the one month that I've been seeing her. But I think it would also be a good idea for me to try to work on this myself. I'll ask her for suggestions, but I'm hoping that some of you fine people might have some suggestions for me.
Some parameters: Despite what I do for a living (I prefer to be vague, but it involves that study of Judeo-Christian religious systems), I'm a convinced atheist. I find it easier to believe that we may have misconstrued the laws of nature than that there could ever be any kind of "divinity" in the universe (let alone one conceived of in the usual monotheistic ways). I'm not interested in tidy fairytales about an afterlife. I'm more struggling to deal with the indifference and randomness of nature and the meaning/meaninglessness of existence in the face of a universe that could never "care" about me or any of us. I kind of always figured I'd get cancer, but I assumed it would much later (I'm in my mid 50s) and that it would be a much more tractable kind. My diagnosis also has me struggling to come to terms with a cancer that doesn't really even have a clearly established protocol and is so rare that I would be more likely to be hit by lightening than to develop something so uncommon. I don't believe in sin in the usual manner, so I can't even blame myself.
Sorry, I recognize that these are ridiculously large questions. Go big or or go home, I guess.
I should also say that I find the language of violence that surrounds cancer to be extremely distasteful. I am not a "cancer warrior," nor am I "battling" this disease. I'm very bothered by the burden it places on the person affected, and the unspoken assumption that deaths from cancer mean that the patient didn't fight hard enough. I've got enough on my plate without dealing with that kind of judgy bullshit. I'm just trying to understand how to move forward in the time I have left without being constantly overwhelmed by grief and rage.
Any ideas? I can't work right now and am on medical leave. While the chemo is causing some mild cognitive issues, I think I can still read hard things.
Best answer: I'm so sorry. Maybe some of the answers to this previous question, from a MeFite in the same situation, can bring you some comfort.
posted by capricorn at 7:11 PM on December 1, 2024 [3 favorites]
posted by capricorn at 7:11 PM on December 1, 2024 [3 favorites]
Hey, I hope you're okay. I've been living with incurable Stage 5 / End Stage Kidney Disease for the past nine years, starting at age 40, and I'm still here.
Thella posted this documentary about terminal patients a while back and it's something I still think about a lot. The sense of clarity they speak of, the unexpected sense of joy they find, is so familiar to me. I have a transplant now, and I'm enormously grateful for the extra time it has given me and the literally hundreds of people who have made it possible for me to stick around. But during my dialysis years when I was at my sickest, a lot of what they describe is exactly how I felt.
I will also say that support groups made me feel absolutely awful. Some people really love them, but they had the opposite effect on me. Not sure why.
posted by mochapickle at 7:47 PM on December 1, 2024 [8 favorites]
Thella posted this documentary about terminal patients a while back and it's something I still think about a lot. The sense of clarity they speak of, the unexpected sense of joy they find, is so familiar to me. I have a transplant now, and I'm enormously grateful for the extra time it has given me and the literally hundreds of people who have made it possible for me to stick around. But during my dialysis years when I was at my sickest, a lot of what they describe is exactly how I felt.
I will also say that support groups made me feel absolutely awful. Some people really love them, but they had the opposite effect on me. Not sure why.
posted by mochapickle at 7:47 PM on December 1, 2024 [8 favorites]
I bought The Emperor of All Maladies: A Biography of Cancer by Siddhartha Mukherjee when I was diagnosed. Like you, I too eschewed the language of violence when considering my growths. After all, cancer cells are part of me, not alien life-forms I needed to 'fight'. What I needed most, was to love. I didn't finish the book but read enough to understand that the shame and silence around cancer and cancer diagnoses, is doctor-shame foistered onto patients. If the doctors of old couldn't cure the cancer, they sure didn't want the patients talking about it.
I also have a good friend who was very happy to dive into discussions around death. We both have Buddhist inclinations so death to us is a rearrangement of energies. Sure, the individual conscious 'me' will go, but the star dust that has always been part of me will remain in some form.
I'm sorry that you are facing these questions now, at such an early age. Good luck. Wishing you peace.
posted by Thella at 8:21 PM on December 1, 2024 [9 favorites]
I also have a good friend who was very happy to dive into discussions around death. We both have Buddhist inclinations so death to us is a rearrangement of energies. Sure, the individual conscious 'me' will go, but the star dust that has always been part of me will remain in some form.
I'm sorry that you are facing these questions now, at such an early age. Good luck. Wishing you peace.
posted by Thella at 8:21 PM on December 1, 2024 [9 favorites]
At the risk of sounding trivial, and as someone who has been through a harrowing treatment for a terminal disease where the treatment itself has a statistically significant mortality rate, I have learned to cherish the smallest things in life. A particularly lovely moon, a sunset, a cool breeze on a hot day, a nice piece of cheese, a smile from a stranger -- these things become precious when you don't know if/when you will experience them again. I also have reminded myself frequently that death is an inevitable consequence of living, for every single person.
I also dislike the adversarial language surrounding cancer and its treatments. I took advice from a friend who had been given six months to live after diagnosis and has now endured for over six years: that cancer is a sickness, to trust in your doctors and treatments, and know that what happens will happen no matter how 'brave' you are and whether you're a 'warrior' or not. You are a human being with a sickness, not a life lesson and it is not up to you to be an exemplar or inspiration to anyone. Trust yourself. During her treatment, she has lost her husband, her father and her eldest son, yet she is still here. She plants her garden each spring not knowing whether she will be there to see her sunflowers bloom or not, but she still plants them.
Now is the time when if you've always wanted to do something, to do it if at all possible. Before my hospitalization I went to Florence because I had always wanted to go there. I cried in the street, overwhelmed by the beauty of the city. Those memories really sustained me when I was unable to get out of bed or even go to the toilet unaided. I had been to Florence! I had seen Michelangelo's David!
I had a long time to contemplate my mortality and in hospital I had precious little else to do, being unable to eat, read or take joy in much, even music. But I felt a kind of peace in that because I accepted that it might happen that I did not survive and had prepared my loved ones for that eventuality and I prepared myself. I tell my daughter that I had a long conversation with Mr. Death there.
I'm very very fortunate in that my treatment seems to have been successful and I may enjoy more years ahead, but I also know that at any time I could have a relapse. However, I've spoken with Death and I can accept that he waits for me as he does for all of us. I'm not a theist nor a Buddhist, but I am a student of philosophy and I've found that philosophical thought is a great comfort in uncertainty. I have not read self help books or contemporary examinations of living with a diagnosis and while these may help you if you're so inclined, I have found great comfort in going back to my Plato and Hume and other philosophical works. Perhaps your comfort lies elsewhere -- in literature or art or music or film but take that comfort where you can find it. Find joy where you can. Good luck on your journey. Feel free to contact me if you ever want to talk, or to vent.
Oh, and Anger is also a perfectly valid reaction to the unfairness of your situation. Be angry if you feel it. You can shout at death, too. He doesn't mind, he's heard it before.
posted by alltomorrowsparties at 11:57 PM on December 1, 2024 [21 favorites]
I also dislike the adversarial language surrounding cancer and its treatments. I took advice from a friend who had been given six months to live after diagnosis and has now endured for over six years: that cancer is a sickness, to trust in your doctors and treatments, and know that what happens will happen no matter how 'brave' you are and whether you're a 'warrior' or not. You are a human being with a sickness, not a life lesson and it is not up to you to be an exemplar or inspiration to anyone. Trust yourself. During her treatment, she has lost her husband, her father and her eldest son, yet she is still here. She plants her garden each spring not knowing whether she will be there to see her sunflowers bloom or not, but she still plants them.
Now is the time when if you've always wanted to do something, to do it if at all possible. Before my hospitalization I went to Florence because I had always wanted to go there. I cried in the street, overwhelmed by the beauty of the city. Those memories really sustained me when I was unable to get out of bed or even go to the toilet unaided. I had been to Florence! I had seen Michelangelo's David!
I had a long time to contemplate my mortality and in hospital I had precious little else to do, being unable to eat, read or take joy in much, even music. But I felt a kind of peace in that because I accepted that it might happen that I did not survive and had prepared my loved ones for that eventuality and I prepared myself. I tell my daughter that I had a long conversation with Mr. Death there.
I'm very very fortunate in that my treatment seems to have been successful and I may enjoy more years ahead, but I also know that at any time I could have a relapse. However, I've spoken with Death and I can accept that he waits for me as he does for all of us. I'm not a theist nor a Buddhist, but I am a student of philosophy and I've found that philosophical thought is a great comfort in uncertainty. I have not read self help books or contemporary examinations of living with a diagnosis and while these may help you if you're so inclined, I have found great comfort in going back to my Plato and Hume and other philosophical works. Perhaps your comfort lies elsewhere -- in literature or art or music or film but take that comfort where you can find it. Find joy where you can. Good luck on your journey. Feel free to contact me if you ever want to talk, or to vent.
Oh, and Anger is also a perfectly valid reaction to the unfairness of your situation. Be angry if you feel it. You can shout at death, too. He doesn't mind, he's heard it before.
posted by alltomorrowsparties at 11:57 PM on December 1, 2024 [21 favorites]
I'm so sorry this is happening to you.
I've been caring for my teenage kiddo for the past 4 years as they've gone through treatment for osteosarcoma. We had the rug yanked when it came back aggressively after a year of treatment and a year in remission. Two years later and he's nearing the end.
It's taught me a lot about not knowing, not being able to plan, about randomness and how life has never been fair or made sense at that deeper level. Not falling into nihilism, but also understanding that we're way less in control that we'd like and that can be a really uncomfortable feeling until it becomes truth.
And the anger will be there... don't pretend it's not. Work with it, transform that protective emotional energy into something else. I was angry for a while at people in general for getting to live out lives that my kiddo never will get a chance to. Once I realized that's where the anger was rooted, though, I came to appreciate the way every kind of life gets to be lived and all the things he or I will never do are being done by someone. It sounds silly but it feels comforting to me.
He said to me back in March or April something along the lines of "I'm not in denial about what's happening and it's not that i don't think about it, but i can't do anything about that, so I'm going to enjoy the time i have the best i can" and that's what he's done and what I've done my best to support him in.
As someone else said, enjoy the little things. Be kind to and Do good things for the people around you.
I'm also an atheist, who practices Zen Buddhism, and I've found the Five Remembrances helpful support.
1. I am of the nature to grow old. There is no way to escape growing old.
2. I am of the nature to have ill health. There is no way to escape having ill health.
3. I am of the nature to die. There is no way to escape death.
4. All that is dear to me and everyone I love are of the nature to change. There is no way to escape being separated from them.
5. My actions are my only true belongings. I cannot escape the consequences of my actions. My actions are the ground upon which I stand.
Put another way... every relationship ends in tragedy (either they leave or somebody dies) but that doesn't stop us from enjoying our moments together.
And also the Karaniya Metta Sutta, which is longer and I'll just link to... it's only religious in the sense that it comes from Buddhism, but really the advice is practical and aspirational and expansive
On a more practical logistical level, get your metaphoric house in order (and ask for help if you need it!) so that others don't have to when you no longer can.
Please reach out by MeMail if you'd like. This is hard and I'm sorry this is your time to go through it.
posted by kokaku at 3:00 AM on December 2, 2024 [24 favorites]
I've been caring for my teenage kiddo for the past 4 years as they've gone through treatment for osteosarcoma. We had the rug yanked when it came back aggressively after a year of treatment and a year in remission. Two years later and he's nearing the end.
It's taught me a lot about not knowing, not being able to plan, about randomness and how life has never been fair or made sense at that deeper level. Not falling into nihilism, but also understanding that we're way less in control that we'd like and that can be a really uncomfortable feeling until it becomes truth.
And the anger will be there... don't pretend it's not. Work with it, transform that protective emotional energy into something else. I was angry for a while at people in general for getting to live out lives that my kiddo never will get a chance to. Once I realized that's where the anger was rooted, though, I came to appreciate the way every kind of life gets to be lived and all the things he or I will never do are being done by someone. It sounds silly but it feels comforting to me.
He said to me back in March or April something along the lines of "I'm not in denial about what's happening and it's not that i don't think about it, but i can't do anything about that, so I'm going to enjoy the time i have the best i can" and that's what he's done and what I've done my best to support him in.
As someone else said, enjoy the little things. Be kind to and Do good things for the people around you.
I'm also an atheist, who practices Zen Buddhism, and I've found the Five Remembrances helpful support.
1. I am of the nature to grow old. There is no way to escape growing old.
2. I am of the nature to have ill health. There is no way to escape having ill health.
3. I am of the nature to die. There is no way to escape death.
4. All that is dear to me and everyone I love are of the nature to change. There is no way to escape being separated from them.
5. My actions are my only true belongings. I cannot escape the consequences of my actions. My actions are the ground upon which I stand.
Put another way... every relationship ends in tragedy (either they leave or somebody dies) but that doesn't stop us from enjoying our moments together.
And also the Karaniya Metta Sutta, which is longer and I'll just link to... it's only religious in the sense that it comes from Buddhism, but really the advice is practical and aspirational and expansive
On a more practical logistical level, get your metaphoric house in order (and ask for help if you need it!) so that others don't have to when you no longer can.
Please reach out by MeMail if you'd like. This is hard and I'm sorry this is your time to go through it.
posted by kokaku at 3:00 AM on December 2, 2024 [24 favorites]
(Just poking my head in to thank kokaku for the Five Remembrances, which are new to me as a Catholic -- and very thought-provoking. Godspeed, pleasant_confusion and all of the commenters. My religion encourages acceptance via the promise of an afterlife, but these suggestions are much more concrete and useful.)
posted by wenestvedt at 7:55 AM on December 2, 2024 [1 favorite]
posted by wenestvedt at 7:55 AM on December 2, 2024 [1 favorite]
Best answer: I was basically you last year, as capricorn linked upthread. First, my sympathy and empathy. It's never ever fun getting such major news, feeling like your life is now in an upheaval, and such unknowns looming in the future.
However — there's a silver lining, I've found. I was truly taken aback by the news that my cancer had spread/metastasized to an incurable Stage 4 condition, and was given the same life expectancy of 5 years. The silver lining is, for me, at least knowing that I have a limited timeframe of life left, which is basically a message from the Universe telling me to make the best out of my time remaining, to travel, to enjoy my time with friends/loved ones, and to try and let stuff go (something I still struggle with sometimes, as you might see in my Ask history). My life isn't perfect by any stretch, but I do have hope, thanks to immunotherapy and so far, my condition is stable. It might seem strange, and might not work for others, but knowing I have a timeframe actually helps me feel a bit more in control, and is oddly comforting in a weird way. I don't know exactly how to explain it, but there you go.
I can't know if it would be the same for you in terms of medication/treatment, but my recommendation is to talk with at least 2-3 oncologists. Get different perspectives. I would also, if financially/insurance-wise possible, consult with the NCI if there is one near you. Get your wills/assets/life affairs in order just in case (a good idea for anyone, really, because life is fragile and tomorrow isn't promised to anyone).
I also tell myself this (might be comforting to you; it sure is to me) that doctors tend to give the most worst-case scenario. When probed, my oncologist admitted that she knew a few people who lived past the 5-year timeline that she gave me, so 5 years isn't always set in stone. I also know a few cancer survivors/warriors who also were given the same 5 years timeline, but lived 20+ years. It might seem deceiving, but doctors actually give that worst-case scenario because it's better than saying "oh, you'll be fine, you'll live 20 years, no worries" only for the patient to pass away in a year. Best to underestimate and then be pleasantly surprised, methinks. However, that doesn't make it any easier to hear.
Hang in there. You got this. One day at a time. Moment by moment. Sending virtual hugs!
posted by dubious_dude at 9:47 AM on December 2, 2024 [17 favorites]
However — there's a silver lining, I've found. I was truly taken aback by the news that my cancer had spread/metastasized to an incurable Stage 4 condition, and was given the same life expectancy of 5 years. The silver lining is, for me, at least knowing that I have a limited timeframe of life left, which is basically a message from the Universe telling me to make the best out of my time remaining, to travel, to enjoy my time with friends/loved ones, and to try and let stuff go (something I still struggle with sometimes, as you might see in my Ask history). My life isn't perfect by any stretch, but I do have hope, thanks to immunotherapy and so far, my condition is stable. It might seem strange, and might not work for others, but knowing I have a timeframe actually helps me feel a bit more in control, and is oddly comforting in a weird way. I don't know exactly how to explain it, but there you go.
I can't know if it would be the same for you in terms of medication/treatment, but my recommendation is to talk with at least 2-3 oncologists. Get different perspectives. I would also, if financially/insurance-wise possible, consult with the NCI if there is one near you. Get your wills/assets/life affairs in order just in case (a good idea for anyone, really, because life is fragile and tomorrow isn't promised to anyone).
I also tell myself this (might be comforting to you; it sure is to me) that doctors tend to give the most worst-case scenario. When probed, my oncologist admitted that she knew a few people who lived past the 5-year timeline that she gave me, so 5 years isn't always set in stone. I also know a few cancer survivors/warriors who also were given the same 5 years timeline, but lived 20+ years. It might seem deceiving, but doctors actually give that worst-case scenario because it's better than saying "oh, you'll be fine, you'll live 20 years, no worries" only for the patient to pass away in a year. Best to underestimate and then be pleasantly surprised, methinks. However, that doesn't make it any easier to hear.
Hang in there. You got this. One day at a time. Moment by moment. Sending virtual hugs!
posted by dubious_dude at 9:47 AM on December 2, 2024 [17 favorites]
Best answer: Cancer Sucks.
I met cancer for the first time in 2004--Multiple Myeloma. The roof fell in; for nine months, I took treatment through PICC lines until I was properly prepped for a Bone marrow transplant; this was a wild guess on the part of the medicos since I didn't have time to wait for a matching donor. They filtered my blood to use as an engraftment agent before infusing me with the chemical that wiped out my bone marrow. After 20 days, the engraftment worked. Now, I could reasonably expect to live for another 48 months. Statistically, MM patients' lives didn't make it past that time. I am an outlier, having been clear for twenty years this month. I came to believe that senior issues would get me before cancer.
Last year, I encountered Bile Duct Cancer. The prognosis is even worse for this nasty little piece of work. I took chemotherapy and radiation. The tumor wrapped around several hepatic arteries just sighed and took a break. The odds are good that I won't make it to the solstice.
I am an atheist, at peace with my tiny part in creation. I am not afraid to die, although I sometimes get pissed off about it.
I have had to curtail certain physical activities, but I can still work out on my guitar. I listen to music with a more calibrated ear nowadays, and I find comfort in the emotional responses I experience. I alsotake out my brushes and do Kanji. It's a good way to let go of negativity without stuffing it down. Life is sweeter when one pays attention to the things around them. I suspect your line of work is an immersive experience. That is good. Please go with it.
Friends and loved ones are uncomfortable around me. They are stuck for an appropriate way to express condolences: "I'm so sorry...." seems so inadequate, and for my part, it's just fine. Say it and move on. Now and then, I mused over my blessings, thinking I would miss this or that when I die. Then the lightbulb in my head flicks on, and I realize that I won't be able to miss anything; it makes me chuckle. This means my situation is harder on my friends and loved ones than on me.
This epiphany lets me overlook their inanities: they are doing their best. I treat them more gently.
My next adventure will be palliative care. I don't intend to go quietly into the night, but I want to hang on to my dignity and try not to alarm those who will witness my death.
posted by mule98J at 9:56 AM on December 3, 2024 [11 favorites]
I met cancer for the first time in 2004--Multiple Myeloma. The roof fell in; for nine months, I took treatment through PICC lines until I was properly prepped for a Bone marrow transplant; this was a wild guess on the part of the medicos since I didn't have time to wait for a matching donor. They filtered my blood to use as an engraftment agent before infusing me with the chemical that wiped out my bone marrow. After 20 days, the engraftment worked. Now, I could reasonably expect to live for another 48 months. Statistically, MM patients' lives didn't make it past that time. I am an outlier, having been clear for twenty years this month. I came to believe that senior issues would get me before cancer.
Last year, I encountered Bile Duct Cancer. The prognosis is even worse for this nasty little piece of work. I took chemotherapy and radiation. The tumor wrapped around several hepatic arteries just sighed and took a break. The odds are good that I won't make it to the solstice.
I am an atheist, at peace with my tiny part in creation. I am not afraid to die, although I sometimes get pissed off about it.
I have had to curtail certain physical activities, but I can still work out on my guitar. I listen to music with a more calibrated ear nowadays, and I find comfort in the emotional responses I experience. I alsotake out my brushes and do Kanji. It's a good way to let go of negativity without stuffing it down. Life is sweeter when one pays attention to the things around them. I suspect your line of work is an immersive experience. That is good. Please go with it.
Friends and loved ones are uncomfortable around me. They are stuck for an appropriate way to express condolences: "I'm so sorry...." seems so inadequate, and for my part, it's just fine. Say it and move on. Now and then, I mused over my blessings, thinking I would miss this or that when I die. Then the lightbulb in my head flicks on, and I realize that I won't be able to miss anything; it makes me chuckle. This means my situation is harder on my friends and loved ones than on me.
This epiphany lets me overlook their inanities: they are doing their best. I treat them more gently.
My next adventure will be palliative care. I don't intend to go quietly into the night, but I want to hang on to my dignity and try not to alarm those who will witness my death.
posted by mule98J at 9:56 AM on December 3, 2024 [11 favorites]
Whatever your spiritual bent, I highly recommend a psychedelic journey of some brand, whether via an underground therapist here in the US (they're out there, and for obvious reasons easier to find on the coasts; legally in Oregon or Colorado). Your existing therapist may be able to low-key find you someone.
Or internationally via a venue such as this: https://www.mycomeditations.com/
https://www.webmd.com/palliative-care/features/facing-death-without-fear-psychedelics--end-life-care
posted by eggman at 9:54 AM on December 6, 2024
Or internationally via a venue such as this: https://www.mycomeditations.com/
https://www.webmd.com/palliative-care/features/facing-death-without-fear-psychedelics--end-life-care
posted by eggman at 9:54 AM on December 6, 2024
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Not super supportive, but...
Take care of your matters. Get a will. Try to figure out what will happen next.
There is likely no afterlife.
But do your best to take care of your people, if you have them.
We are all just dust in the wind.
I've had some terrible medical shit, and you just have to come to terms with it. And do what you can to mitigate it. If death is imminent, you just have to accept it. Sucks if it happens, but it is going to happen to all of us. Get your shit in order. Give your assets to things that matter to you...
You might be an outlier adn should not be counted.
Good luck.
posted by Windopaene at 6:40 PM on December 1, 2024 [3 favorites]