Mark McCormack Quotes

I knew whatever I did, it was going to be big.

Time will tell us what we did and didn't do.

I did not fully understand the dread term 'terminal illness' until I saw Heathrow for myself.

I mean some doctor told me I had six months to live and I went to their funeral.

If we didn't do the tour, it would have been disastrous.

Our initial assessment is that they will all die.

A doctor gave a man six months to live. The man couldn't pay his bill, so he gave him another six months.

Whatever we do or fail to do will influence the course of history.

Hospice means end-of-life care. The admission ticket is a diagnosis from a doctor that you have six months or less to live.

When I was a child, doctors sent my grandmother home in a wheelchair to die. Diagnosed with end-stage heart disease, she already had so much scar tissue from bypass operations that the surgeons had essentially run out of plumbing. There was nothing more to do, they said; her life was over at 65.

Tis easy to see, hard to foresee.

'Incurable' is a tough word. So is 'terminal.'

Being in the hospice didn't work out exactly the way I had expected. By all rights, I should have finished my time here in mid-March 2006 - at least, that's when Medicare stopped paying.

It was the patient, cut-flower sound of a man who is waiting to die.

You have to make smart decisions, but you never know what will happen in the future.

You're going to die sooner.

Is the care of the dying man truly robbing care from the poor man? How reliably can we know when someone is in the last ten days of life?

"I'm going over the valley." (Dying from throat cancer, his doctor found him wandering around his room, asked him where was he going?)

The evidence is that people who enter hospice don't have shorter lives. In many cases they are longer.

Good news for senior citizens: Death is near!

And in bed, deep inside the building, are all the headaches that won't go away. The failed kidneys, the rashes, the ragged-edged moles, the lumps on the breast, the coughs that have turned nasty. In the Marie Curie Ward on the fourth floor are the kids with cancer. Their bodies secretly and slowly being consumed. And then there's the mortuary, where the dead lie in refrigerated drawers with name tags on their feet.

A person's last moments are an important thing. You can't choose how you're born but you can choose how you die.

Dying is not easy. It's a very hard transition.

Life is an incurable condition: the only known treatment is to try to keep the patient comfortable.

June smiled. "So what will it be? Safety, or a future of pain and possibility?"