“I am not going to let you drag me through painful, experimental treatments that will not work, just so that you can feel less guilty.

Saving me does not mean forcing me to spend my final months hooked to machines in an intensive care unit so that you can feel you have paid off a debt.

If a gentle treatment buys me good months, I will take them.

I want to see Maya walk.

I want to sit on the porch with you.

But when the day comes that treatment only prolongs my pain, I need you to promise me that you will let me go peacefully.” I told her I couldn’t promise that.

“Yes, you can,” she said.