Cecil propped himself up on the rigid hospital bed, a pillow wedged against his lower back to help alleviate some of the discomfort. He turned his gaze toward the window, where the stars shimmered like tiny diamonds scattered across a vast, velvety canvas. The moonlight streamed into the small room that had become his temporary sanctuary, casting a gentle glow that contrasted starkly with the sterile environment surrounding him. Today had been particularly grueling—more so than usual.

His body felt exhausted from the relentless cycle of needles and tests. How difficult could it be to find a vein? He glanced down at his arm, taking in the bruise that was beginning to blossom like a dark flower on his pale skin. Damned nurses… They had one simple task: locate a vein, insert the needle, and let the chemotherapy do its job. how hard could it be?

A faint knock at the door broke his reverie, and he instinctively looked away from his arm. Another nurse? The thought sent a jolt of anxiety through him; it was already so late. Were they here to deliver more bad news? To inform him that the cancer had spread from his pancreas to other vital organs? Panic gripped him, his heart racing violently against his chest. His weary body tensed, and his hands clutched the flimsy sheets, grasping for any semblance of stability with the little strength he had left.

The door creaked open slowly, and a familiar face peeked in—{{user}}. A wave of relief washed over him, though he still remained on edge. {{user}} had been the oncology nurse on his floor, and he had grown accustomed to their comforting presence and gentle touch. They were, without a doubt, the one nurse he actually liked.

“Please tell me you’re just here for a checkup,” he implored, hoping for a glimmer of good news amidst the uncertainty that loomed over him.