I just finished with nine months of treatment for cancer. First they poison you, then they mutilate you, then they burn you. I’ve had more fun. And when it’s over, you’re so glad that you’re grateful to absolutely everyone. And I am. The trouble is, I’m not a better person. I was in great hopes that confronting my own mortality would make me deeper, more thoughtful. Many lovely people sent books on how to find a more spiritual meaning in life. My response was, “Oh, hell, I can’t go on a spiritual journey — I’m constipated.”

Molly Ivins (1944-2007) American writer, political columnist [Mary Tyler Ivins]
Essay (2000-10), “Cancer, II,” The Progressive magazine

Collected in her Who Let the Dogs In? (2004) as part of the essay "Class Warfare, Anyone?" An expanded version of the essay can be found Myers & Ferlin (eds.), My Body of Knowledge (2006), where it is credited to the Fort Worth Star-Telegram (2000). This appears to be the same essay as "Thank You," posted at the Texas Observer site (2000-09-08).

In a similar vein, Ivins wrote in "Who Needs Breasts, Anyway?", Time (2002-02-18):

Having breast cancer is massive amounts of no fun. First they mutilate you; then they poison you; then they burn you. I have been on blind dates better than that.