cheeks and hollow eyes, with wires and tubes attached to me. I took off the oxygen mask and managed a weak grin. “Stop crying.
You look terrible.”
I went over everything with her–my house, my savings, my last wishes. My mind was slipping. I knew I had more to say, but I just could not remember. “This will do for now. If I think of anything else, I’ll text you.”
She cried so hard her eyes were swollen. She reached out to hug me but hesitated, then pulled back, sobbing even harder. “Yulia! Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”
I was too weak, but I still patted her hand lightly. “Telling you earlier wouldn’t have changed anything. It would’ve just made you worry longer.”
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She stayed with me that night. The next morning, as she was leaving for work, I stopped her. “Don’t tell Yannick.”
I did not want his pity.
“And one more thing.” I touched her face gently. “I’m switching hospitals. Don’t come visit me again.”
I knew how painful it was to watch someone walk step by step toward death. I did not want her to suffer. So, for me, this meeting will be our final goodbye.
She sobbed. “Don’t do anything stupid.”
“I won’t. But if we ever meet outside a hospital again, I promise I’ll give you the biggest hug.”
I left the rest unsaid, but she should understand. If we never got to meet again I was still alive, I did not want her to be sad.
I transferred to another hospital and had the tubes removed. I just wanted to die a little more comfortably.
I told the doctors that if anything happened, they did not need to save me.
Then one day, I got a call from Mom.
The first thing she said was, “I know all about your illness.”
For a moment, I thought she might show a little concern.
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