“Can you please tell me what the hell is happening?” I begged the older nurse at the hospital reception.

“The doctor will be out in just a minute, dear. I’m sorry but I can’t tell you anything else right now.” She looked at me sympathetically and guided me back to the empty row of chairs at the back of the room. “Can I call anyone for you?”

“I…umm.” I mulled her question around in my head for a moment before frowning. “No. There’s nobody to call,” I told her. Dylan had no one. He had no family, no ties to anyone but me. I was the last person he had. The memory of him would die with me…just like he would. I sent up the millionth prayer asking for more time.

“Miss Torres?” a professional male voice called. I looked up from my hands that lay limp in my lap.

“Yes,” I answered in a croaky voice. “That’s me.” I shot up out of my seat over to the doctor who’d just come from behind the large white doors which separated Dylan and myself for the last two hours.

“Miss Torres. You’re listed as Dylan’s next of kin.” He looked solemn and full of news I didn’t think he wanted to give me. “Can you come with me, please?”

I followed behind him the loud beeps of machines clouding my mind. The strong smell of antiseptic overwhelmed me, bringing back unpleasant memories of a time in my life when I was the one attached to those machines. The beeping reminiscent of an annoying child banging on a table in a quiet restaurant, the sterile smell of medicine to mask the stench of death that lurked behind each curtain. My stomach threatened to upturn its contents at the thought of how close I was to death, and now it felt like I was experiencing it all over through someone else's mind and body, Dylan's.

“Through here, please.” The Doctor led me into a stark white room filled with a small lounge setting and a coffee table with nothing but an open box of tissues on it.

“Why are we in here? Where’s Dylan? What’s going on? Is he okay?” I fired my questions at him thinking the worst. This little room was where they took families to tell them their loved ones had died…I was sure of it. Tears flowed down my face again. Sobbing, I asked again. “Where is he?”

“He is alive, Miss Torres.” The doctor passed me a tissue and took a seat, indicating for me to do the same thing. “Please sit. I need to give you some details.”

“Oh, thank God!” I plopped down onto the cracked leather sofa and tried to dry my face with the tiny piece of white material. “How bad is it?” I knew even before the question left my mouth, he wasn’t going to tell me anything I didn’t already know in my heart. I was losing him. Fast.

“Well, as you already know Dylan has brain cancer. He’s not been receiving any treatments for quite some time now and vastly outlived any of our initial expectations.” I scanned the doctor’s nametag which sat above his pocket.

Dr. Polouski.

Nodding, I pulled another tissue from its cardboard box and blew my nose.

“Now, Dylan had done tremendously well until recently; however, he’s taken a rather bad turn. This morning, after he was admitted, he had a particularly nasty seizure.” He put the clipboard he had been holding down on the coffee table between us. “Dylan’s health is deteriorating quickly. The seizures indicate his brain is not coping any longer. His organs are weakening and he’s not able to function normally at this point.”

I pulled in a shaky breath. “Seizures? Are you sure?”

“I’m afraid so, Miss Torres.” The doctor seemed to steel himself before opening his mouth. “He’s growing weaker, and the next few weeks will be hard on his body and mind.”

Staring blankly, unable to grasp what he’d just told me, I made no sound.

Dr. Polouski reached out and laid his hand over mine. “His body is giving up. He doesn’t have longer than a few weeks left, Miss Torres. I’m terribly sorry. You should start making arrangements for him now. When the time comes, you won’t be in the right frame of mind.” The doctor looked at my swollen face. “Are you aware of Dylan’s last wishes? Do you know if he has a last will and testament?” His eyes were kind but detached.

One sentence and my heart shattered, splintering shards though my chest. “I need to see him.” I jumped up out of my chair. The only thing I could focus on was getting to him.

“Yes, ma’am. I’ll take you to him now.” The doctor stood and walked to the door. Before opening it, he stopped and turned to me. “Please understand it might look scary. There are a lot of tubes and wires attached to him right now. He looks as unwell as he is. It can be quite confronting for loved ones to see.”

“I understand. Please, I just need to see him,” I begged, not realizing just how terrifying it would be to see him like that.

A few turns in the long corridors and we came to a light blue curtain that looked identical to the rest of them. “If you need anything, the nurses’ station is just over there.” The doctor pointed to a large desk buzzing with people coming and going.

I nodded and moved forward, my feet feeling like they weighed a ton. I lifted my equally heavy hand and pulled the curtain back enough to step inside.

No matter how much you think you are ready, nothing truly prepares you to see somebody you love lying in a hospital bed, looking as pale as a ghost. With tubes, wires and an assortment of machines hooked up to his frail body, I swallowed back my instinct to wail and throw myself at him. “Dyl?” I gasped, my hand flying to my mouth. The tears I’d managed to stop, spilled over and ran down my cheeks again.