Terminal Illness Movie Novels & Stories

Several medical files had been attached. Hospital records. CT scans. Blood reports. Doctor's assessments. Chemotherapy history. Medication lists. Adrian slowly lowered himself back into his chair. His fingers trembled ever so slightly as he opened the first file. Stage... Then another report. Another. Another. Each page seemed heavier than the last. Every diagnosis felt like another blow to his chest. Terminal illness. Failed treatments. Limited options. The words blurred before his eyes. His grip tightened around the phone until his knuckles turned white.

Twenty minutes later, I’m done and turning my paper in to Professor Vassily’s desk. “Already?” He takes the paper from me. “Yeah. I love the book.” He chuckles. “You take after your father, I guess.” I stare at him. Professor Vassily rubs his temple. “I read your file. I saw that he was a professor. I’m sorry for your loss.” The suffocating feeling I’m always working so hard to keep at bay presses down on my chest. I’m right back there, standing in the living room with the phone pressed to my ear, hearing those awful words: “terrible accident”... “passed away”...

"I know it would be hard for anyone in this family to trust me," Genevieve said. For some reason, the look in her eyes seemed to convince Jessica. People change right? 'People change when they are about to die' the thought crossed Jessica's mind. She has heard of people changing drastically when they were about to go to the great beyond and it was probably the case for this woman. "Are you terminally ill? Or about to die?" Jessica voiced out. "Oh no," Genevieve responded immediately.

I hissed. “Does the doctor agree with you?” Eric challenged. “Because according to Melody here, it was a terminal disease, wasn't it?” Melody's eyes were still watery. Her wounds were still very fresh and the bastard was just poking at it like it meant nothing. “A terminal disease that sprung out of nowhere. Dante and I had dinner with her a few months ago and she was perfectly fine!” I stated. I glanced at Dante hoping that he would actually say something useful but he was silently glaring at Eric, for reasons that were clearly unrelated to the issue at hand.

Callie and Renan sat on the adjacent chairs, their expressions heavy with a quiet, lingering respect. The room was completely still. Hand trembling, I lifted Braham’s phone and pressed play on the attachment Martha had left for me. The screen flickered, revealing Martha’s hollowed, pale face against the sterile white hospital pillows. Her chest heaved with the immense effort it took to breathe, but when she looked into the camera lens, her eyes were entirely lucid—clearer than they had been in years. “Millie-Rose...” her raspy, fractured voice bled through the speakers, echoing softly off the high timber ceilings. “If you are watching this, it means the machine has finally stopped ticking, a

Henry finally snapped out of whatever daydream he was in, or rather a night dream. “Baby,” he called tenderly and held my hand. I looked at him and was surprised to see tears in his eyes. Why was he crying? Am I really going to die soon? “Oh baby,” he called again and before I could open my mouth to ask what was wrong he engulfed me in a tight hug. “You don’t know how happy I am baby, gosh I can’t believe this,” he whispered in my ear. Is he serious right now? Is he seriously happy that I have a terminal illness and may die soon?

The doctor's words had felt like a bullet piercing through her chest. Terminal cardiomyopathy. Last stage. If lucky, she could live up to nine more months, but anything after that, wasn't certain. Tiana didn’t cry at the hospital that day. She had walked out quietly, the traffic blaring around barely got to her. Everything had turned silent with nothing but a high toned ringing noise in her ear. Sitting down in the quiet confines of her room, a book laid flat to her lap.

Her hands shook as she took ‌a document from her coat. “I know I shouldn’t have come. But… I was diagnosed with leukemia. It’s late stage. “The doctor said I might not live more than three months… Tony, I just wanted to see you more before I die… I’m scared. I don’t want to die…” The breath caught in my throat. Sasha… had a terminal illness? But she looked perfectly healthy yesterday.

Both sides face each other at opposite sides of the battlefield from yesterday, the stench of smoke and blood still fill the air to some degree. We hear that the officers simply named the battle, Final Eternity. Although I found the name a bit bland, in all truth I believe it didn’t matter. The ceremony was conducted by the meeting of Generals from both sides. When our own General Vaxides read the official Persian letter and inspected the seal for authenticity while the Persian Leader General Izari did the same with the Remanian letter. When both Generals returned the letters and saluted each other we knew the war was now over. The cheers of both armies are much more deafening than the fierc

Each one landed with clean, precise impact. "She has a terminal illness." Sarah's voice came from the other side of the bed — quiet, contained, the specific quiet of something very large being held very still. "You are standing in a hospital room telling a dying woman to pack her bags." "The pack infirmary isn't—" Kane started.