Novelas y relatos de Six Months To Live

Her father finished her tea in silence, set the cup gently down on the table and said in an unflinching and deceitfully calm way, “I’ll be dead in six months.” Gianna felt her body lurch towards her father desperately, as if it was happening without her consent. “What?” Still looking unconcerned, her father said, “For the past year I’ve been receiving treatment for prostate cancer. I was diagnosed eighteen months ago. The treatments thus far have failed, I’m now in sage four, and my oncologist doesn’t believe I have more than three or four months. So, six months isn’t a realistic expectation for you to have, Gianna.”

He was surprised that she looked calm given the bad news. “But there is therapy and some drugs which can be given to you. I’ll need your parents to discuss further. “There’s no need” “But..” “If you say it can’t be cured, how long can I survive?"Her voice was still calm as she looked at the Doctor. “The maximum number of years so far is 22, but in your case I’m sorry to say this but only Four months, you have only four months to live.” The room went silent for a couple of minutes.Leniela raised her head up staring at the white ceiling.

"I'm so glad I went to see him." Damien finally looks up at me, his dark eyes boring into mine. He looks worried and concerned. "How was it?" He asks. "Are you okay?" "No." I pause. "My dad has six months to live. He won't be seeking treatment because they found the cancer too late. And I'm freaking out. I want to spend every day of those six months by his side." He's quiet for a moment. "Six months is such a short time." He says. "I'm sorry. I can't imagine what you're going through right now. I think it's a good idea to spend every day of those six months right by his side. Maybe we can go live with him for a while."

Tasha, who was about my age and lived next door, threw her door open and bellowed. “Go to hell! Do you think being sixty years old means you’re one foot in the grave already? We can easily live another twenty years, but not with someone like you though! Living just a year with you is hell! “Quit whining and scram! I’m done listening to you complaining!” My son was no match for Tasha. His objections were caught in his throat and he ended up having to scurry away with his head hung low.

"Your time is only three months left." "There's a burst blood vessel in your brain, which means you only have three months to live." Those words nearly took my life. At just two months into my marriage, our family's doctor diagnosed me with only three months left to live. "As we've said before. You have to choose, Madam," said the doctor sitting in front of me. "Your life, or your baby. But whatever your choice, your life won't be saved."

When I arrived at my destination, I sighed. I know I won't be living for too long. My body is getting weaker, and I’m always coughing up blood. “How is it, doc?” I asked her even if I already knew the result. I still managed to show her my smile. “Ms. Sanders, I'm sorry to inform you that you only have three months to live. I'm sorry, Ms Sanders,” I knew I wouldn't live for too long. I laughed bitterly. Now that everything is fine between the both of us, this is going to happen.

Annie sighed, “Actually, he told me about his medical condition. He didn't want you to know it so I couldn't tell you, I'm sorry.” I have a headache now. I was feeling confused enough and it seemed Annie was only about to add to it. I had to hear her out first. “Tell me. What is his medical condition?” I asked her carefully. “He has terminal cancer. From what I heard, it is in its last stage. He was told he had six months to live and the thing is, he has exhausted those six months which means…” Annie explained calmly. “That means he could die at any moment!” I interrupted.

Six Months Six months. Sometimes it felt like time had slowed down on purpose, letting us savor every single day. Other times it felt like the days were slipping through my fingers no matter how tightly I tried to hold on. The doctors had given my mother three months at most. She had already beaten that prediction, but we all knew the extra time was borrowed.

the doctor continued gently, “and in your lymph nodes as well.” The words fell heavy between them. Then the doctor’s face softened with pity. “At this stage,” he said, in a low, “surgery can’t remove it. We can try chemotherapy to ease the pain and slow it down… but I have to be honest with you. You may have around six months left.” Outside the door, Serena gasped quietly and covered her mouth. Her eyes widened, and her heart raced wildly. Six months? That was all Lord Blackwood had left? So Lordblackwood was sick and he was hiding it from everyone.

“It was never a cure.” “You said I would have six months.” “No, I said you could have up to six months before your symptoms get worse.” “Jesus, you people really love your disclaimers.” I lean forward, arms crossed. “Then what should I do, huh?” He sighs. “A medically induced coma. There’s no other way.” “I told you. That’s not an option. I don’t have that kind of time.” He leans back in his chair, concern bleeding through the clinical. “Time for what, Marion? What’s so urgent that you’re willing to die over it?”