The doctor told me there was no cure for Cirrhosis, and that all I could do was manage my symptoms. As the months went by, I watched my life slowly slipping away. I had bouts of nausea, fatigue and abdominal pain that were so severe, I couldn’t get out of bed for days.
My friends and family were devastated for me, but I refused to accept my fate. I chose to live my last few months with purpose, spending my time with my loved ones and doing my best to make the most of this dark time.
My last hurrah was an emotional one. I looked around at the smiling faces of my loved ones, and I was filled with a deep sadness that this would be the last time we were together. I started to cry as I realized I was going to die, and all I could do was spend my last few moments saying goodbye and giving everyone one final hug.
I knew when I left that my days were numbered and that my time was up. I put on a brave face and went home, knowing it was my last night alive. I died the next day, a victim of this terrible disease that I never saw coming.