Escapism in the form of fiction is a decent way to pass the time. My pain control medications help, although the alleviation of the physical pain is not what does the trick; rather, they leave me so messed up that I do not dwell on my situation much. It's easier to suspend disbelief and envision a scenario in which I am loved and wanted around when I am under some kind of chemical trance.
If sufficiently doped up, I can entertain a fantasy wherein I get to hold someone, someone who will hold me back, before I die.
Much of my endurance is in realizing the things I have to do before I can Catch the Bus.