Seeing this I scoffed, "You made me so angry I coughed up blood. Now leave, or you might be the death of me."
At that moment Jack realized that some people had started recording him on their phones. He stared at me for a few seconds and then said, "I have things to do. You should go to the hospital and get checked out. If your psychosomatic symptoms are this bad, I'll help you find another therapist later."
I just waved my hand dismissively to urge him to leave.
After he left, I sat back down. Aston looked worriedly at me. "Have you decided on a treatment plan?"
I shook my head.
"You know, I know a specialist in Saint City …" Aston began, but before he could finish his word, I cut him off with a tired sigh.
“I don’t want to go that far. I only have a few months left. I’m not interested in making the effort.”
"Dr. Robertson, I know you mean well. For that I thank you," I said and gave him a weak smile. "However, I really don't need it."
However, Aston was too persistent so after several days of coaxing, I finally relented and started chemotherapy at a local hospital.
On the first day of chemotherapy treatment, I regretted it.