The last thing I wanted to be was a patient. I didn’t like sick people. First of all, they were sick. Sick was not well, not able, not working, not making things better. Sick was surrendering, caving in. Sick was wasting time, not adding up. Sick was alone and stuck as the rest of the well world moved by… There is obviously something scaring me even more than the cancer. It is the idea of stopping. The idea of being still. Of not being able to do or make or travel, or speak or organize or write. I don’t want to be a fucking patient.
Read the rest of the article, Cancer, the alchemist, by Eve Ensler here.