In such circumstances, your craniotomy will be followed by radiation. We might even implant some wafers in your head and light you up like a plug-in bust of Christ. Patients tend to squeeze out at most another year after this; vigorous or younger individuals can last a smidge longer. What occurs next is this: fatigue, mood swings, muscle weakness, confusion as to the purpose of a toaster. Family and friends drop by to tell you that you’re an “inspiration” or to utter phrases about “the indomitable human spirit.” There’s the wearing of wristbands and ribbons and the guilt donation of a dollar to the Leukemia & Lymphoma Society or other cancer research organizations at the grocery store or pharmacy. Positive social media updates about your progress or how the tumor “may have killed a couple of brain cells but can’t kill your sense of humor” will proliferate. Chemo makes you lose weight. Steroids make you gain weight. You spend hours on internet medical forums, lament the hours spent on internet medical forums, then spend more hours on internet medical forums. You vow to quit the internet altogether and immediately spend more hours on internet medical forums.

Later: Constant nausea isn’t relieved by medication because it’s caused by cranial swelling. Thrush invades your esophageal tract like you’re a neglected fourth-grade science project. Incontinence, memory loss, the inability to wield utensils. Epiphanic moments and inexplicably beautiful solitary hours are devoured by rage. The joy of sunlight, the decency in rain; the hatred of sunlight, the disgust at rain. Your long-suffering, Florence Nightingale spouse grows distant. Neighbors avoid your house in fear they will have to engage in small talk with you or your family. There’s discussion of Kübler-Ross’s Stages of Grief and where you might be—when in doubt, choose “Bargaining.” Manically, you sort through storage boxes in your attic or basement and, also manically, sort through memories. Diets, tonics, acupuncture sessions, and other alternative holistic methods are tried. You ingest so much flaxseed, but flaxseed can’t cure everything.

Much later: Pain pills are increased to straight-up morphine to, finally, liquid morphine that’s absorbed inside the cheek because you’re too tired to sit up or even swallow. Hospice workers visit who seem like they’ve been sent straight from the choirs of seraphim; hospice workers visit who you want to punch in the face because they talk about “wanting to give back” or “observing the whole range of the human condition.” Your spouse or mother or child caretaker is overwhelmed by a crying jag at the sight of a newly delivered commode chair. Your spouse or mother or child caretaker gives you a haircut and you feel fully afraid and not just numbly afraid as you watch your thin hair on the floor get swept away. Your spouse or mother or child caretaker, if artistically inclined, draws your likeness while you nap. This likeness won’t be completed and is left, parchment edges curling, with only one wide turtle eye. Plan on being brought outside for a last trip to see the migration of geese. A dry fever calms you and shuts down all your bodily systems. You breathe harder and harder until you stop.