That is a beautiful poem. Stop rationalising or justifying death. Rage, rage against the dying of the light and support research into extending life and, if possible, curing death.

I loved this poem as a teen but started feeling strongly conflicted about it ever since my grandma passed away. I watched her get pushed through treatment after treatment against her will. I vividly remember her biting the fingers of a relative who was trying to make her take pills. Near the end, she seemed so different from the person I knew, and she wasn’t happy. To be fair, she lived well over a year past what the doctors said, but family around her were forcing her to fight harder and longer than she wanted. I still don’t know what the right thing to do for her should have been, but I know how sad I felt seeing her so worn out and tired and I know how much I miss her.

Cancer is a bitch.