“Reverend Sāriputta, I’m not keeping well, I’m not getting by. My pain is terrible and growing, not fading; its growing is evident, not its fading. The winds piercing my head are so severe, it feels like a strong man drilling into my head with a sharp point. The pain in my head is so severe, it feels like a strong man tightening a strong leather strap around my head. The winds slicing my belly are so severe, like a deft butcher or their apprentice were slicing open a cow’s belly with a sharp meat cleaver. The burning in my body is so severe, it feels like two strong men grabbing a weaker man by the arms to burn and scorch him on a pit of glowing coals. I’m not keeping well, I’m not getting by. My pain is terrible and growing, not fading; its growing is evident, not its fading. Reverend Sāriputta, I shall commit suicide. I don’t wish to live.”

“Please don’t commit suicide! Venerable Channa, keep going! We want you to keep going. If you don’t have any suitable food, we’ll find it for you. If you don’t have suitable medicine, we’ll find it for you. If you don’t have a capable carer, we’ll find one for you. Please don’t commit suicide! Venerable Channa, keep going! We want you to keep going.”