This is the end for me.
This is the end.
No. No we keep going.
We’ll get your kidneys working.
Then we’ll re-start chemotherapy.
Look at me, I’m a shell.
I’m a shell.
No no. I’m telling you there’s a good chance we’ll have you on chemotherapy.
We’ll give you time.
Don’t give up.
We’re not giving up.
This is my ending.
Let me choose with dignity.
Don’t say I’m giving up.
Do you think I want to leave my wife behind?
My kids behind?
I’m accepting my fate.
We all die.
I’m choosing to listen to my body.
I want to be with my family.
I want to touch their hands
Kiss my wife for the last time
Lay next to her in bed just one last night
In our bed.
I want to have my last thoughts be of my beautiful life
I don’t want chemotherapy to rob me of anymore time
I don’t want chemotherapy to give my family any more false hopes
I want them to see me at peace.
Because I know
I know when I take my last breath.
That image will always be in their minds.
They should see peace
Never pain Doctor.
No more pain.
He had Acute Lymphoblastic Leukemia, chemo unsuccessful, bone marrow transplant unsuccessful, salvage chemo unsuccessful. Bedridden, swollen, acute kidney failure precipitated by chemo…and all he wanted to do was die. But every day, he had an oncologist pushing him for ‘more’ – but there comes a moment when you’ve done everything and all you can do is give a dying man gravitas.