Chapter 5

[Goodbye Life, Part Four — November 3, 2023 — Nailed the Little Chemo!]

In this video, I was noticeably much thinner than before.

What was once a slightly chubby face now had sunken cheeks.

The cancer cells were spreading rapidly, leaving me in so much pain that I could only lie on the hospital bed like a dead fish.

"Can I get a painkiller shot?" My voice was weak.

I took out 1,340 yuan from under my pillow and handed it to Fiona; it was all my savings.

Fiona sniffled, reaching out to take my money.

But the next second, she put the money back under my pillow.

"No painkiller shot. You need chemotherapy now.

"I asked the doctor. If you don't undergo chemo, with the current speed of your cancer spreading, you won't make it through the year..."

I smiled slightly, "That's okay too. Better short pain than long pain..."

But Fiona wouldn't have it, "I've already paid for your chemotherapy. The doctor will take you soon."

"Where did you get the money?" I asked, enduring the pain.

She helped me sit up straight, her eyes flickering:

"The production team applied for it as your appearance fee. Just use it without worry."

I wanted to ask more, but the doctor came to take me to the chemotherapy room.

Soon, my body was covered with tubes, and a breathing mask was placed on my mouth.

The doctor didn't allow any filming of the upcoming treatment.

Fiona aimed the camera at the door of the chemotherapy room.

Moments later, my painful screams echoed from the screen, quite unsettling.

The doctor had lied, saying the soundproofing was good, and I could scream freely.

Not cool!

Half an hour later, the chemotherapy finally ended.

I was wheeled out of the chemo room.

Seeing Fiona's camera, I turned my face away.

But the camera still caught my face, covered in tears and snot.

I quickly wiped my face clean, meeting Fiona's worried eyes with a big smile.

"Nailed the little chemo!"

I made a "nailed it" gesture with my hand.

Fiona placed her hand over mine, her voice hoarse:

"Great job!"

"I prepared lunch for you. I made it myself. I hope you like it."

On the table in the hospital room were three dishes and a soup, looking delicious.

My eyes sparkled, "Wow, all my favorites! Thank you, Fiona."

Facing the camera, I started acting like a food blogger.

"Let's show everyone what a rectal cancer patient eats after chemo."

I picked up each dish to display to the camera.

Then I ate with gusto, even eating half a bowl more rice than usual.

Off-camera, Fiona praised me, saying I did great.

I exaggeratedly responded,

"It's all because Fiona's cooking is so good, it reminds me of dad's cooking, I almost want to lick the plate."

I lifted the plate, pretending I was about to lick it.

Fiona sternly stopped me.

"No licking the plate."

She placed the camera on the table and cleared the food containers.

As soon as Fiona left, my expression turned painful.

I rushed off the bed and hugged the trash can, vomiting uncontrollably.

When I appeared on camera again, my face was covered with tears from vomiting.

"Don't get me wrong.

"Fiona's cooking is really good.

"It's just the side effects of the chemo are getting worse, making me vomit..."