I can see Frankspencer's point,
but I disagree.

I looked after one young lad, 16 years old with an incurable lung sarcoma. He was admitted in extremis one night with pneumonia and was begging me (literally offering me his entire worldly goods) to keep him alive long enough for him to go abroad to see the home of his forefathers.

Thankfully we managed to get him over this infection, was discharged, and he fulfilled his dream.
A couple of months later he was admitted, and he knew he was going to die. This time, he was prepared, and had fulfilled everything he had wished to. He shook my hand, and I left him with his relatives. Later that evening the relatives pushed the call button and I went into his room to pronounce him dead.

He knew exactly what mortality was, and how precious life is. He also exhibited bravery and maturity that I can only hope to have a fraction of when my time is nigh.
( sm.pl.crt.rs I don't fucking know, do I?, Fri 29 Feb 2008, 14:04, Reply)