After Annabelle Gur­witch received an out-of-the-blue diag­no­sis of Stage 4 lung can­cer, an exis­ten­tial dread set in. Pre­ci­sion med­i­cine offered a tem­po­rary reprieve — but instead of turn­ing into a can­cer war­rior, Annabelle declared her­self a can­cer slack­er. Her mot­to: no runs, no rib­bons, no reli­gion. Told with her sig­na­ture wit, warmth, and gim­let eye, Gur­witch draws inspi­ra­tion from Greek mythol­o­gy and TV come­dies, Ker­mit the Frog, and Samuel Beck­ett. She acci­den­tal­ly acquires an angel, embraces being in it ​“just for the sex,” and finds her­self on a Euro­pean van tour sell­ing merch for a heavy met­al band. In this hilar­i­ous­ly and deeply affect­ing med­i­ta­tion on mor­tal­i­ty, the actress and activist illu­mi­nates life with chron­ic dis­ease, inequities in care, and cel­e­brates tiny vic­to­ries, the crusty ends of baguettes, the dis­creet plea­sure of suck­ing at a hob­by, and the unshak­able bond of female friend­ship. She upends the notion of liv­ing each day as if it were your last, as she dis­cov­ers you can carpe too much diem, embrac­ing, instead, the extra­or­di­nar­i­ness of the ordinary.