Just 10 years ago, I sat across the desk from a doctor. "Yes," he said, "there is something wrong with the left, upper lobe . You have a moderately advanced case... You'll have to give up work at once and go to bed. Later on, we'll see." Feeling like a man who is in midcareer has suddenly been placed under sentence of death, I left the doctor's office, walked over to the park, and sat down on a bench. I needed to think. In the next 3 days, I cleared up my affairs, then I went home, got into bed, and set my watch to tick off not the minutes, but the months. Two years later, I left my bed and began the long climb back. It was another year before I made it. I speak of this experience because _ that passed so slowly taught me what to value and what to believe. I realise now that this world I'm living in is not my oyster  to be opened but my opportunity to be grasped. Each day, to me, is a precious thing. The sun comes up and presents me with 24 brandnew, wonderful hours--not to pass, but to fill. I've learned to appreciate those little, allimportant things I never thought I had the time to notice before:the play of light on running water, the music of the wind in my favourite pine tree. I seem now to see and hear and feel with some of the recovered freshness of childhood. How well, for instance, I recall the touch of the springy earth under my feet the day I first stepped upon it after the years in bed. Frequently, I sit back and say to myself, "Let me make note of this moment I'm living right now, because in it I'm well, happy and hard at work doing what I like best to do. It won't always be like this, so while it is, I'll make the most of it--and afterwards,  I remember--and be grateful. All this, I owe to that long time spent on the sidelines of life." By fighting with his disease, the author realised   _  .
patients should know how to get on with doctors doctors should treat patients more carefully we should pay enough attention to diets we should value and appreciate life