Though it isn't a death sentence mate, father in law was diagnosed with a tumor on his pituitary gland way back in the dark ages of modern medicine and he's still kicking well into his 80's. Surgery options back then are in comparison to today's tech akin to hammer and chisel.
It's entirely likely its going to kill me. But who cares? This is life. I'm not concerned. I'm not releshing the fact that I could spend my last days in a bed, stuck to a IV.
I've already booked a ticket to Turkey, have friends that will cross me into the Kurdish Defense Forces in Northern Iraq. Might as well do something positive before I die.