Chapter 184
The Hockey Star’s Remorse
Chapter 184
TIMOTHY POV
Timothy's footsteps echoed in the sterile hospital corridor as he made his way to the front desk. He had been gripped by an
overwhelming sense of urgency, a gnawing worry that had been festering ever since he received the call about his motherâs
condition. He had to see her, to ensure that she was receiving the best care possible.
âExcuse me,â he said to the nurse behind the desk, his voice edged with concern. âIâm here to see my mother, Abigail Lawrence.
Can you tell me which room sheâs in?â
The nurse glanced up from her paperwork, her expression inscrutable. She tapped away at the computer, and Timothy anxiously
tapped his fingers.
on the counter.
âI'm sorry, sir, but it seems that your mother has discharged herself,â she said, her tone even.
Timothy's heart plummeted, and anger flared within him. âDischarged herself? Why would she do that? Sheâs been diagnosed
with cancer, and she
needs treatmentâ
The nurse offered a sympathetic look, though her tone remained unchanged. âI understand your concern, but your mother left
before we could discuss further treatment options with her. It was against medical advice.â
Timothy couldnât fathom the reason behind his motherâs rash decision. It was unlike her to take matters
into her own hands, especially when her
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health was at stake. The worry gnawed at him, and he clenched his fists in frustration.
âCan you tell me when she left?â he asked, his voice strained.
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The nurse checked the computer again and responded, âShe discharged herself earlier this morning. We tried to reach out to
her, but sheâs not. answering her phone.â
Timothy couldnât contain his anger any longer. He muttered a terse âthank youâ to the nurse and stormed out of the hospital, his
mind racing with a mixture of fear and frustration. He needed to find his mother and convince her to return for the treatment she
so desperately needed.
As he rushed to his car, the weight of the situation pressed down on him, a sense of helplessness and anger consuming him. His
motherâs decision to leave the hospital against medical advice was reckless and dangerous, and he couldnât comprehend why
she would make such a choice.
Timothy's car sped through the familiar streets of his hometown, racing towards the place that held the woman he loved most in
the world. He couldnât understand why his mother was refusing the treatment she so desperately needed to combat the growing
cancer that threatened to take her
away.
The drive to his motherâs home was a blur of anxiety and uncertainty. He hoped to find her there, to persuade her to return to the
hospital, but the fear of what he might discover gnawed at him.
When he arrived at her modest, well-kept house, he noticed that her car was parked in the driveway. A flicker of relief washed
over him as he hurriedly approached the front door,
âMom?â he called out as he entered the house.
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The silence that greeted him was deafening, and he made his way through the rooms, searching for any sign of his mother. It
wasnât until he reached the kitchen that he found her, seated at the table.
She sat there, her eyes distant and pensive, a half-empty glass of water before her. She was gazing out the window, her
thoughts a million miles away, âMom,â Timothy said, his voice trembling as he approached her. âWhat have you done? Why did
you leave the hospital?â
Lydia turned to look at him, her expression a mix of defiance and sorrow. âI couldnât stand being cooped up in that place any
longer. They were talking about treatments and surgeries, but I just needed some fresh air.â
Timothy's frustration boiled over, and he raised his voice in anger. âThis is about more than just fresh air, Mom. You have cancer,
and you need treatment. You canât just walk away from that.â
âI believe I can,â she stated, her tone resolute.
Timothy took the seat beside her and wrung his hands together, trying to find his most persuasive words.
âWhy?â he began, his voice hoarse. âWhy are you refusing treatment? You canât just give up like this. We can fight this together.â
Lydia looked at him, her eyes filled with pain. Timothy, you donât understand. I donât want to suffer anymore. The treatments, the
pain, itâs all too
much.â
Timothy's frustration flared, and he placed a hand over hers. âYou canât just give up, Mom. You canât! I'll pay for whatever you
need. We'll find the best doctors, the best treatments. But you have to fight this, for yourself, for me, for all of us who love you.
You canât just throw in the towel like this.â
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Lydiaâs eyes filled with tears as she gently pushed Timothyâs hands away. âI appreciate you sweetheart, but you have to
understand, I canât do this anymore. Iâve seen what it does to people. Iâve watched my friends suffer through treatments, lose
their dignity, and still lose the battle in the end. I donât want that for myself.â
Timothy's frustration turned to desperation. He knew that his mother had always been strong-willed, but he had never seen her
give up like this. âYou canât just give up, Mom. I canât lose you. I won't let this disease take you away from me.â
Lydiaâs took his hand back and gripped it tightly. I've thought about this long and hard, Timothy. Itâs not giving up; itâs choosing
how I want to live my final days. I donât want to be hooked up to machines, to be confined to a hospital bed.â
Timothy was at a loss. He felt like he was failing her, like he couldnât do anything to change her mind. He turned away from her,
his shoulders. slumping in defeat. âI just canât accept this, Mom. I need to do something, anything.â
Lydia considered him for a moment, then offered a smile. âThere is something you can do, Timothy. Take me to our favorite
beach, one last time. Let me feel the sea breeze, see the waves, and listen to the seagulls. Thatâs all I want. You're the last
person I want to see before I go.â
Timothy turned back to face his mother, his eyes filled with tears. He could see the determination in her eyes, and he knew that
she wouldnât budge on the matter. Swallowing his sorrow, he nodded. âAlright, Mom. We'll go to the beach.â
Lydia reached out and touched her sonâs cheek, her touch gentle and filled with love. âThank you, Timothy. I know itâs hard for
you to accept, but itâs my choice. And I appreciate your support.â
Timothy gathered his mother in his arms, holding her close. âI love you, Mom. I'll do everything I can to make your final days as
peaceful as possible.â
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They stood in a tender embrace, but Timothy didnât feel any kinder toward the idea. After a few moments, he turned away from
his mother, his eyes moist with tears. He knew he couldn't change her mind, but he couldn't accept her decision either.
The frustration and helplessness ate at him, and he needed to leave before he lost control of his emotions.
âI'll take you to the beach,â Timothy repeated, and he gave her a long stare. âI'll honor your wishes, even though I donât want to.
But I canât just sit here and watch you slip away. It tears me apart.â
She nodded, squeezing his arms. âThank you, Timothy. You've always been the most loving and supportive son. I appreciate
your willingness to grant me this final wish.â
With a heavy heart, Timothy made his way to the door. He couldnât bear to let his mother see his s or the anger that still
simmered beneath the surface. âI'll arrange everything for the trip to the beach, Mom. I want to make sure itâs perfect for you.â
But as he left the home and shut the front door behind him, he began to wonder how long they truly had.
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