You may find "On Being The Object Of Public Pity" here, though there is excerpt below as well, because no excerpt just doesn't seem right.
"What Wurtzel taps into deeply is the vibrancy of living in the moment for as long as we can, staring down the barrel of the gun with swagger and a sassy gratitude devoid of platitudes and piety. What Wurtzel is also doing, and what needs to be done, is emancipating the Sick Woman from her role as a tragic heroine haloed by soft lights—what she is saying, between the lines of everything else, is: I am still me. This may prove to be a temporary luxury. Few of us get to exit the world swaggering, and for most people who ultimately die of cancer there is pain, there is wasting away, there can be the deterioration of the brain as toxin buildup renders a once electric intellect flat-lined and dependent on others. Perhaps Wurtzel intends to get off the train voluntarily before reaching such a place, as I sometimes think I would, and as should be everyone’s right."