My late best friend used to get sick, but that was before the terminal illness, but she used to say to me that she would simply go to Dignitas if it got too much.
I used to get worried by that, and I would tell my late adoptive mum about it and say it worried me.
But in the end, by the time the cancer was diagnosed, she was already dying, and had a few short months at home with her family.

Last night my nightmares, when I finally slept, were about the police beating and imprisonment by my abusers at Sussex, where I was not allowed to defend myself or have a voice.