On when to call it quits.

I have a dilemma: life or death. Is it worth living a life with a disease that will only hinder my quality of life? My hopes and dreams? Or should I simply cut my losses and call it quits?

This one is entirely up to you.

Most folks tend to skew towards life, even after life’s quality is significantly diminished. Then again, when faced with certain brutal realities about the frailty of the human condition, it’s normal to think about these kinds of things.

If your disease is progressive and terminal, it’s perfectly understandable to game out the various scenarios in which you’d prefer not to stick around.

Unbearable is a word that means something different to each of us, and after a period of rational and informed reflection, if you came up with an end-of-life plan that was dignified and then shared that information with your friends and family, I’m sure the general response would be one of solemn acceptance.

I hope you stick around, though. If it were me I’d do my damnedest to adapt to whatever fucked up shit got dropped on my world, and I’d hold out as long as motherfuckingly possible.

The alternative is inevitable, but entirely undesirable.


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