Death is never easy. But Oliver Sacks shows us an approach that views life as a welcome gift rather than bemoaning death as a medical failure
Like millions of readers I had a lump in my throat as I read Oliver Sacks reveal his diagnosis of terminal cancer earlier this year. Every doctor aspires to be a little like Sacks whether for his sharp intellect, his obvious humanity or his exquisite writings that go to the core of what it means to be human and frail.
In February he calmly declared that metastatic melanoma affecting his liver meant that his luck had run out. I found it hard to share his calm but then like the genial, grandfather-figure he is, he reassured us, oncologists and all, that he still felt intensely alive, wanting to “deepen my friendships, to write more, to achieve new levels of understanding and insight.”
Related: On the Move: A Life by Oliver Sacks review – road stories of an uneasy rider
Patients who can get even part of the way to acknowledging their mortality ultimately do themselves an untold favour.
Related: Cancer may be the best way to die but it doesn't have to be | Ranjana Srivastava
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