Two years ago, when I was diagnosed with cancer, I didn't want to fight it. I wanted to take the "opportunity" to be done. Well, I ended up fighting because I couldn't stand my strong fiance and mother sobbing in empty rooms where they didn't think I'd hear. I lived for them. Didn't mean I was happy about it. In fact, I became quite bitter after I was told I was in remission. Since then, I've actively avoided PET scans and such that could detect if it returned. I'm now working on getting them back because I know now that what I've been doing is, like Laura said, "Passive suicide". Passion, to die slowly like that, to literally feel the life being drained out of you and watching the people who love you suffer while there's nothing you can do to ease their pain; it's the worst damn feeling I've ever experienced. It's not the way to go. Ever.
I couldn't fight for myself because I didn't see myself as worthy of my own efforts. I fought for them. My mother wouldn't have lived long after I would've dropped. My fiance would be in a dark place that I already know, in a type of pain I never want him to experience. The price is too high, to let ourselves die.