Ponder

"One day, a day lying in wait up ahead, you will lie abed in a hospital, writhe in nausea from chemotherapy, feel the metastases spreading out in your bones, hair falling in bunches from the radiation - and what then will seem to you to have been the way to live? Does the dark-haired beauty still beckon? Do you strain to follow, to reach out, to touch? Or do you yearn rather but to walk on the beach in the sun, to sit down to dinner with a friend, or perhaps just to be free of pain - all those riches which are now right at hand and ignored?"