Rather frequently I have heard accounts of close relatives of a terminally ill patient begging the doctor not to divulge the full implications of the patient's health. The plea, usually something to the effect, "Oh no, Doctor, you can't tell him. . . the truth would kill him!" is somewhat curious in the context it is used, for doubtlessly the patient will die whether he knows all of the facts or not. For those who doubt the beneficiality of telling the truth, let me further illustrate my assertion. After receiving a clean bill of health, a person who has, unknowingly, contracted leukemia continues with increasing difficulty to do the activities which he formerly accomplished with ease. This individual is not ignorant; despite any clever lies that initially might have given comfort, it will be evident that something is wrong as symptoms gain momentum. Withholding information depletes the individual's right to spend his time as he wished and, I might add, to work through the possible stress that is associated with such devastating blows. The most terrifying part of a horror story is when the killer is yet at large, faceless and unknown. This general prefix applies to any fear, I feel, because once the unknown is brought into the light and understood, it can no longer evoke the terror it had when it rampaged through the mind as a veiled monster. A person is not afraid of the dark, but rather, what lies concealed within it. Similarly, illness can evoke feelings of terror as the body degenerates before an unseen attacker. If a person is educated about his illness, I believe a great deal of trauma could be avoided. Instead of presuppositions, one had facts, and as in the horror story, once the killer is recognized, the audience is given the hope that the victim will see and overcome the horrid pursuer. With regard to the patient, this could mean hope instead of futility; when described symptoms do not appear, the patient assures himself of more time to enjoy his redefined life. If a patient is led to believe his life is far from ended, he may put off preparations for those who shall survive him. When, through misguidance, he discovers that he no longer has the time which he was "allotted," he may feel frustrated and foster deep regrets. Preparations cannot be made without a previous knowledge of one's illness and should one fall rapidly into his demise, there shall be no time for the assumption of his rightful choices.