"What! No! This can't be possible!" Dad said, throwing his chair onto the ground yet again. "You must have made some kind of mistake! Didn't you tell him he would still have a couple of months left? Test him again!" He began shouting. Yet the more he shouted and paced, the more his rage began to dissipate and begin to be replaced, his voice sounding more and more sorrowful with each shout before tears could be seen in his eyes, twinkling in the light.
"So this is it, huh. Two more weeks. That's all I've got left?" I said to no one, staring at my left hand resting on my lap, as if expecting it to start to disappear at any second.
As I did so, all I could think about were all the mistakes I had made in the past couple of months that had led to this. The days when I would forget to take my pills. The days when I would inhale breath after breath of smoke as my then friends and I partied from dusk till dawn. The days I would spend walking around the neighbourhood we lived in, knowing that the smoke and fumes being released were one of the causes for my condition, yet not trying to avoid it at all costs, like I should have. As I thought about it all, I realised it was a miracle I was even going to get two weeks at all and that I wasn't already gone from this world, rotting in a grave.
When I thought about it like that, despite the horror of my reality, a small chuckle couldn't help but escape from my lips, a chuckle that quickly formed into a full blown laugh. A raspy laugh that when mixed with the coughing that started moments later must have made me seem insane.
"Adam! Are you alright? What's wrong? Why are you laughing?" My father asked frantically, shaking my shoulders roughly to grab my attention.
I tried to respond, to tell him that I was fine, yet between the laughing and coughing I simply wasn't able. Dr. Soren, on the other hand, standing not far away, simply looked on with worry as he went to quickly check upon my heart rate monitor. You would think I was having a mental breakdown with how they were reacting; Which for all I knew I was. The thought of which made me start to laugh even harder.
God knows how long later, after my throat had become worn and ragged and my laughs had become closer to gasps, I finally managed to come to a stop. "Sorry, I really needed that." I panted out.
And I truly did. Even though my throat was now burning and my chest pounding in pain, I felt better, truly better. Like I was more myself, no longer clouded and controlled by my fears and anxiety. However, despite my apparent improvement, I was under no illusion that I had accepted my death, just the thought of which made me almost spiral right back down the pit of despair. But it was a start, and that was all I could hope for.
Turning back to my father and seeing the still clear panicked look he held, I flashed him a small smile. "I'm ok, really."
"So what does this mean exactly?" I asked Dr. Soren, bringing the conversation back to the life-changing news I had just heard.
After gathering his bearings and seeing that I didn't appear to have gone crazy, he eventually replied. "I'm afraid there's not much we can do. We only have two options. Either we have you admitted into the hospital for treatment, or you spend your remaining time at home."
"Treatment? You're saying there's treatment?" My father asked hopefully.
"Yes, but not in the way that you're thinking. As I said last time, Adam's illness has advanced far too much for us to be able to do anything about it. The most we can do is try to manage it and slow it down."
"What does that mean exactly?"
"In short, we might be able to extend your son's life expectancy by another week, maybe two, but I'm afraid that is all."
"No." I immediately stated, interrupting whatever my father was about to say as I stared directly at the doctor.
My father looked back at me in confusion. "What do you mean no?"
"I mean, that I am not going to spend the last few weeks of my life stuck inside this fucking hospital waiting to die." My father simply looked flabbergasted at my reply, as if he couldn't even begin to fathom why I wouldn't want to try and extend my life as much as possible. And maybe he had a point. But the idea of being trapped inside this room, counting down the minutes until my eventual demise. That almost seemed like a fate worse than death.
"Dad, I'm not going to change my mind. I didn't get admitted when I was first told about my illness, and I'm not going to now. I'm going to spend the rest of my life back home, where I belong." I said with as much confidence as I could, seeing that he was planning on trying to talk me out of my choice. Something that was never going to happen.
In response, his jaw shut close before he directed his gaze, filled with sadness and unshed tears, towards mine. I held it, hoping to convey the determination I felt. Something he must have seen, as he eventually looked away, releasing a deep and powerful sigh while he squeezed my shoulder. "Alright. If that's what you want." He muttered glumly in defeat.
"I'm truly sorry Adam. No one so young should have to go through what you are. I'll come back in later today to check the condition of your ribs. Due to your circumstances, we will try to get you out of here as early as possible. Hopefully tomorrow morning at the earliest." And with that, Dr. Soren quickly escaped the room, leaving just my father and me to stew in the events that had just transpired.
The silence between us carried on for many minutes, with each of us lost in our own thoughts. I wondered what I wanted to do with my last few weeks alive. I thought about what most people would have on their supposed bucket lists, maybe to travel the world or go on vacation. To go on a shopping trip and buy everything I had ever desired, or to go skydiving and bungee jumping. Yet the more I thought of it, the more I realised that none of that truly interested me. It wasn't what I wanted to do.
"Let's go to Australia." My father suddenly declared out of nowhere. "Or Paris, London, Japan. Wherever you want. Where do you want to go?"
"Woah, hold the brakes, Dad. What are you on about?" I asked, confused about where this tirade seemed to have come from.
"I'm on about you Son! Where do you want to go? Where have you always wanted to visit?" Realising what he was on about, for a second, I wondered if maybe I had been speaking out loud, as we had both thought about the same thing, about what I wanted to do before I died.
Seeing that he was still waiting for my answer, getting more and more agitated the longer the wait lasted, I replied. "Look dad, I appreciate the sentiment, but for one we simply don't have the money to affor-."
"Fuck the money!" He shouted passionately. "I will get the money, no matter what. So just tell me where you want to go and I will handle it, regardless of the cost." I sat there shell shell-shocked. Not due to his agitation, mind you, just in the past hour alone, he had gotten emotional more times than I could count. No, the reason I was shocked is that for the seventeen years I had known my father. That was the first time I had ever heard him say "Fuck the money." And the fact that he was saying that in regard to me brought a small smile to my face.
"Thanks Dad, really, but besides the money, I also just don't want to travel anywhere. I mean why would I? Why would I want to go to a place I've never been before while leaving all my friends back here?"
"...So what do you want?" Hearing his question, I paused for a moment and gave it some thought.
"Nothing." I eventually answered.
"Nothing?" My dad asked, incredulously.
"Well nothing special. All I want is to spend my time having fun with my friends and with you. That's all I need. Nothing more." I could see from the look on his face that he wanted to argue. Wanting to do something big and elaborate, almost as a farewell party in a sick sort of way. But the look on my face must have once again dissuaded him as he just shut his mouth, sat down beside me and wrapped his arm around my shoulder. Giving me a small, sideways hug. One, I reciprocated, leaving us to stew in silence until the loud sound of my stomach rumbling echoed throughout the room.
"I don't know about you Dad but I'm starving. What's there to eat?" And with that, laughter soon filled the room.