How a Dying Woman Rewrote Her Epilogue novel Chapter 25

Elodie's voice was steady, almost eerily so. Even when it came to losing something as fundamental to a woman as the right to have children, she seemed unbothered, as if nothing could shake her anymore.

She'd done what she could; the rest was out of her hands.

How long she had left was anyone's guess. Whether she could ever have children again no longer mattered.

The specialist seemed to understand where Elodie was coming from and spoke in a gentle tone. "So, when do you want to begin chemotherapy? I'd really advise not waiting more than three months."

Elodie's fingers curled tighter around the fabric of her coat. "Alright. I'll get my affairs in order as quickly as I can."

In the end, Elodie and the doctor agreed on a conservative treatment plan, at least for the time being.

She would start with radiation therapy.

They prescribed an imported medication—something potent to hold the cancer at bay for as long as possible.

Prescription in hand, Elodie didn't head straight to the pharmacy. Instead, she turned down a different corridor, toward the hospice wing.

No matter how composed she tried to be, when she found herself staring down death, she felt small—like a child, lost and helpless, longing for shelter.

All at once, she wanted to see her uncle.

Emile's room was on the twelfth floor. When she arrived, it was empty.

She asked at the nurse's station and learned her uncle was down for chemotherapy.

Elodie made her way to the oncology ward.

She'd just mentioned she was looking for her uncle to a nurse's aide when, from one of the rooms, a muffled cry of pain cut through the heavy air. It rose—ragged and raw—until it was almost unbearable.

Her uncle, who had always been so dignified, so unflappable, was suddenly vulnerable, brought low by pain.

Elodie felt a chill seep into her bones.

She turned and left, almost running.

She didn't stop until she saw a nurse wheeling Emile back to his room.

He looked gaunt, his face ashen, and the chemo had hit him hard; he was hunched over, retching up bile.

Elodie didn't go in.

Instead, she sat out in the hallway for a long time, wondering if this was what would become of her, too, once her own treatment began.

Numb with despair, she eventually rose and walked away.

She took her prescription to the pharmacy.