P.J. O’Rourke encounters the Reaper.

I looked death in the face. All right, I didn’t. I glimpsed him in a crowd. I’ve been diagnosed with cancer, of a very treatable kind. I’m told I have a 95% chance of survival. Come to think of it—as a drinking, smoking, saturated-fat hound—my chance of survival has been improved by cancer.

Read the whole thing.

Best wishes for a complete recovery.