[sammyg2]

I remember when my grandfather got cancer. He was a hard man, fought in the south pacific in WWII, worked as a cowboy on a huge ranch in New Mexico after that.

He was about 75 but still got up early and did all his chores every day.
If he didn't have anything else to do he'd go down the street and cut all the weeds on a vacant lot.
One Monday morning he said he couldn't get out of bed. Grandma called the paramedics who took him to the hospital. That evening I got the call, you better get here fast. He passed two days later.

No one could believe how bad that stuff had eaten him up inside and he was still working and not complaining.
It was sad but as least he went relatively fast. I had to wonder how much pain he was in before, he was as tough as he was stubborn.

The point is, how long do we prolong it? At what point do we decide the quality of life is so bad it isn't worth it anymore?
i don't know the answer to that and hope i never have to make that decision.