The Time Of The Terminally Ill Extra Novels & Stories

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~THREE DAYS LATER~~~~~~ Gerard sighed for the twentieth time that day. He had just returned from the doctor and found out he was terminally ill. The treatment cost was a mountain too high to climb, and to make matters worse, his company had gone bankrupt and closed its doors forever. Everything he had built was crumbling, and time was no longer on his side. He stared down at his wristwatch. The hands ticked mercilessly, reminding him that it was already time for his hospital appointment. His body felt heavy as he stood, each step dragged by the weight of despair.

"A huge reason Evelyn fell ill from anger is because of that walking disaster in our house. We originally thought we could finally purge her from the Ironspike pack, but then that damn accident happened at the most critical moment. Just thinking about it brings bad luck!" Melinda affectionately took Evelyn's hand. "Evelyn, I actually have an idea that might help you relieve this hatred in your heart." "What idea?" Evelyn asked urgently. "Last year, I treated a patient at the hospital who was terminally ill. He wasn't very old. We couldn't find the cause of his illness, but he simply couldn't be cured. The hospital issued several critical condition notices, but his family still refused to giv

I wanted to see the world in another way. Since I had no offspring or family, after some deliberation, I decided there was no need to bid farewell to anyone. … The weather was sunny on the day I passed away, which was rare for early spring weather. Unfortunately, I did not make it past the one-year mark, as the cancer spread fast. After falling into a coma for three days, I stirred awake, looking exceptionally spirited. "Kevin, I want to meet with Craig." Stunned, Kevin nonetheless agreed to it. In my moments of terminal lucidity, he tried his best to fulfill my last wishes.

But how do I do the latter? “Sinclair, is there a need for an autopsy when we already know she had a terminal illness? I just mean it's going to only stress everyone, we could just take her and bury her peacefully” I suggested to Sinclair as we both sat in the waiting room along with Bill. “It’s a standard procedure, Eve. I don't mind it being done” Bill interrupted and said.

"Which should be any minute now..." "Mom, don't say that—" "Maya." Her eyes locked onto mine one last time. "Promise me you won't let his money mean more than your father's life. Promise me." "I promise." She relaxed back into the pillows, satisfied. Within minutes, she was asleep again, her breathing shallow and labored. The nurse pulled me aside. "I need to be honest with you. These bursts of energy—we call them 'terminal rallies.' They often happen in the final days.

"I'm afraid it means the cancer is terminal. We'll do everything we can to make him comfortable, but..." Emma didn't hear the rest. The world seemed to tilt on its axis, and she felt as if she might faint. The room spun around her, and she gripped the arms of her chair to steady herself. Terminal. The word echoed in her mind, a death knell for all her hopes and dreams. "How long?" she managed to ask, the words feeling like broken glass in her throat. "It's hard to say exactly, but given the stage... a few months at most. I'm so sorry, Ms. Montgomery. I wish I had better news for you."

“I already told you your grandpa’s condition is terminal. We need to start discussing hospice care. At this stage… there’s nothing more we can do medically. We could lose him at any time.” ‎His words land heavily. ‎“But doctor,” I argue, my voice tightening, “you told me he had less than four months to live. It’s barely been a week since he was admitted.” ‎“Yes, I know,” he says gently. “But it’s cancer. These things are unpredictable. Our timelines… they’re not always accurate.” ‎He pauses, then adds, “I’ll give you some time to think about it. But we need to act fast.” ‎That’s all, Mr. Arc.

“Treatments you say? They are experiments and honestly, I am not ready to be anyone’s lab rat,” I didn’t want to spend my last days in a white pale room surrounded by death. I want to be happy. I want to go with a box full of memories, I want her to remember me as her nagging annoying best friend, not the ailing patient that she watched drift away from herself daily. God, I want to live a little before I die and although I have tried to explain this again and again, it is almost like nobody is listening. “Does he know?’ she asked folding her hand and glaring at me. “Does he know his future wife is terminally sick?”

I scowled, and she cracked up. "Turns out it's chronic. Terminal. The doctors claim I only have so much fight left in me. They had a treatment plan, the final one, and I was excited to see you again. To go home. But I got the news on Friday that it had failed. There’s nothing they can do.” “I don’t buy that.” I shook my head, bringing my laptop to research it. I know the basics. Too much sugar or too little. Why would someone die from it?

She didn't have much time left, and she didn't want to waste what little time she had in the hospital. She wanted to spend more time with her mother and her son. "I know. I'm prepared for it. Can you increase the painkiller's dosage? The pain has gotten a little more intense lately," Clara said. The doctor sighed. He could understand why Clara would make that choice. What surprised him was Clara's calmness in the face of death. He had seen many terminal patients in his career. Nearly all of them tried desperately to grasp at the possibility of survival once they found out that their days were numbered.