There is a disturbing quality to all the recent chatter from talking heads, both conservative and liberal, urging Chief Justice William H. Rehnquist to retire from the Supreme Court.

Diagnosed with thyroid cancer and hospitalized recently with a fever, Rehnquist has undergone nearly a yearlong odyssey of fighting the disease. He’s had a tracheotomy. He’s undergone chemotherapy.

The media and political pundits continue to treat him as a barely functioning member of society and sound his death knell, citing survival statistics that are too often misleading.

What we do know is that he, at the age of 80, has tried to do what most of us do, show up to work each day. He says he will continue to do so for the foreseeable future. It is his right.

Whether you are the chief justice of the United States or a custodian at a local elementary school, everyone should have the opportunity to indulge in the quiet dignity of an honest day’s work.

Even a cancer patient.

I know. As someone who has been facing cancer for the past 11 months – eight of which were spent out of work, in a mostly horizontal position, recovering from a grueling triathlon of chemotherapy, surgery and radiation – I get it.

In addition to wondering whether I would live or die, my most miserable moments were those spent staring at the pale blue walls of my apartment. Friends would call. I wouldn’t call back. Instead of writing about what was going on in the world, I was watching reruns of “The Nanny” and “The Golden Girls.”

The rest of the time I spent wondering how the world had gone on without me and what was going on at Newsday, where I have been a journalist for the past nine years. Feeling irrelevant, I would call my editors at times, telling them how bored I was and couldn’t they please send me some brief stories and yes, even obituaries, to write.

I admit Rehnquist has been looking frail these days. Many cancer fighters do, after having the equivalent of what feels like Drano pumped through your veins. But the stereotype of cancer patients — or fighters, or survivors, or whatever the latest vernacular is – has got to change. The women in my lung cancer support group recently were talking about the perception of Rehnquist by the media, politicians and the general public. Cancer is not necessarily a death sentence, though sometimes it is. We’re not all wheelchair-bound and oxygen-tethered. Advances have come in many forms, from radical surgery to immune system-building drugs to life-prolonging medicine.

Still, to confront any form of this disease, there has to be a certain amount of toughness.

And love him or hate him, Rehnquist is a tough guy. He’s long been a divisive figure on the court since his appointment in 1972. During his early tenure, the court came precipitously close to overturning Roe v. Wade, which gives women the right to choose whether to terminate their pregnancies.

Since he became chief justice in 1986, critics have groaned as the court has moved away from the separation of church and state. Just in June, he wrote the supporting opinion allowing a monument of the Ten Commandments to remain on the grounds of the Texas statehouse. He has dissented when the court ruled that those under 18 should not face the death penalty.

But politics aside, he deserves the right to choose his own exit strategy from the court, if indeed that happens. Indeed, the stakes are higher now with the resignation of Sandra Day O’Connor and the nomination of John Roberts.

Still, in Washington, a man in a black robe is walking through the doors of the halls of justice. I’m here, answering the phone, interviewing people, writing stories. Lance Armstrong just won his seventh Tour de France on July 24, now “retiring” on his own terms. He plans to stay physically active, perhaps in triathlons. There are countless others at work each day.

With cancer, no one knows what the future brings. I’ve been back to work for nearly three months, trying to move ahead with my life. So hats off, bald heads and all, to anyone who wants to do the same.