ABSTRACT
When death knocks at our door, how should we answer? A long time ago, I met Susan, a forty-year-old woman who did not look a day younger than sixty. She had a cancer that would not go away and, in spreading, had robbed her body of much of its weight. The treatments, and the fatigue that accompanied them, had left her drawn and breathless. She lay on her bed with tubes coming out from her abdomen and her nose, a picture of someone in serious trouble.
