I could never, ever, imagine what they thought about at 3am in the morning, if they cried or laughed, or if they were in pain. If they required medication or were seeking some kind of alternative therapy they had read about online. If they struggled to stand or even sit.
I don’t know if they were angry they were dying or if they had accepted it. If they drank copious amounts of tea or copious amounts of scotch as they looked out tall windows to the world outside upon people hurrying by simply getting on with their day.