The day came that I had been working toward with such intensity and fortitude of spirit. . . that being the day of my release from the hospital. When the doctor made his morning visit he informed me that I would be able to depart early the next morning. I asked whether I would again see Dr. E. before leaving, and learned that a visit was in his plans. As it happened, he arrived shortly, and before my father had eaten breakfast; this allowed a one to one confrontation which I truly preferred. Whether through avoidance or mere circumstance, the doctors never paid any visits when my father was present. They would make their daily rounds early in the morning, long before he had arrived, or at night when he left for his motel. This seeming "avoidance" could have been due to the fact that I was no longer of child status, and the doctors felt that decisions should lie heavily on my behalf rather than confusing matters by including the emotionally wrought inclinations of my relatives. Personally, I was relieved that I was able to confront the doctors alone, thereby allowing a fluid question and answer session, uncomplicated by concerned family members who might have misunderstood information, or in their excitement, failed to hear other facts and necessitate repetition; these group encounters are seldom low-key when they do occur, and thus I found myself ill-prepared to deal with such intense conversation while still drained from the operation itself. When Dr. E. entered the room I had prepared myself for ingesting a fair amount of information and sat upright in my bed with a pad of paper and a pen to capture all that he was about to tell me. Moreover, the days which I had just spent in the hospital were not simply taken up in leisure time activities such as watching television or browsing through magazines; I had devoted a great deal of time to serious thought. I feel that everyone has a limit as to how much he will endure, both in the physical and emotional sense. Since physical well-being reflects one's emotional health and vice-versa, the body will set its own limitations if one is but aware of them, and of course, heeds them. It is not living, but the quality thereof, which for me determines my capacity to endure physical or mental pain. Life with excessive pain is merely existence, and it is precisely that mode of existence which I shall always wish to avoid. Life for the sake of life is merely the fearful abhorrance of death, the final cycle in earthly existence. Undergoing a full year of chemotherapy was sufficient time for me to grasp a clear idea of the drugs and their side effects. I knew at 14 years of age that I would never again be placed under such physical duress; I knew that my emotional health would be in turmoil. To once again attempt to prolong life through such dreadful means would be a price too high to justify.