My eyes felt like they'd been glued shut. It took all my strength to pry them open, and when I did, the harsh hospital lights made me wince. I blinked a few times, trying to get my bearings.

The first thing I saw was Mum, slumped in a chair next to my bed. She looked knackered, with dark circles under her eyes and her hair all over the place. She hadn't noticed I was awake yet, too busy staring at a book in her lap.

Then it all came flooding back.

One memory kept popping up, clearer than the rest - Nathan's voice, all quiet and serious, asking my dad if he could marry me.

At first, I thought I must've dreamt it. But the more I thought about it, the more real it felt. The way Nathan's voice shook, the shock in Dad's voice when he answered - it was too vivid to be just my imagination.

I tried to work out how I felt about it. Marriage. It seemed so... grown-up. So final. We were only seventeen. Nathan should be worrying about his A-levels and what uni to apply to, not wedding rings and 'till death do us part'.

But then again, most seventeen-year-olds weren't staring death in the face like I was.

That thought sent a shiver down my spine.

Was that why Nathan wanted to get married? Because I was dying? Did he feel like he had to, like it was something he should do for his dying girlfriend?

No, that wasn't fair. I knew Nathan better than that. If he'd asked, it was because he meant it. Because he loved me.

Mum shifted in her chair, and I suddenly realised how much I needed her. I tried to speak, to get her attention, but my throat felt like sandpaper. All that came out was a pathetic little croak.

It was enough, though. Mum's head snapped up, her eyes going wide when she saw me looking at her.

"Beth! Oh, darling," she gasped, dropping her book and grabbing my hand. "You're awake. How are you feeling?"

I swallowed painfully, trying to get enough spit in my mouth to speak. "Water," I managed to rasp out.

"Of course, of course," Mum said, reaching for a cup on the bedside table. She held the straw to my lips, and I sipped gratefully. The cool water felt amazing on my parched throat, even though swallowing still hurt.

As I drank, I spotted Nathan asleep in another chair, his head at an angle that was bound to give him a crick in his neck when he woke up. He looked as tired as Mum, his clothes all rumpled and his hair a right mess.

"How long?" I asked, my voice a bit stronger now.

Mum's face fell a bit. "You've been in and out for about a month, love. This is the most with it you've been in weeks."

A month? No way. I tried to remember, but everything was just a blur of pain and confusion.

"Dad? Meri?" I asked.

"Dad's at home with Meri," Mum explained. "We've been taking it in turns, making sure someone's always here with you."

"What happened while I was out?" I asked, dreading the answer but needing to know.

Mum sighed, her eyes filling up with tears she was clearly trying not to let fall. "The palliative chemo... it hasn't been working as well as they'd hoped. Your symptoms have been getting worse, darling. The doctors have been trying different combinations, but..."

She trailed off, not able to finish. She didn't need to. I could feel it in my body, the weakness, the constant ache. I was dying, and the treatments weren't helping anymore.

But I guess it never really was.

"Is the cancer spreading?" I asked.

Mum shook her head. "No, thank God. It's not getting worse in that way. But the symptoms... they're getting harder to control."

I nodded, trying to take it all in. It was weird, feeling almost detached from it all. Maybe I was still too out of it to really get what it all meant.

Just then, Nathan stirred, blinking awake. When he saw me looking at him, his face lit up like.

"Beth," he breathed, rushing to the other side of my bed and grabbing my free hand. "You're awake. How are you feeling?"

"Like I've been hit by a lorry," I said honestly. "But I'm here."

He smiled, but it didn't quite reach his eyes. "You are. God, Beth, I've been so worried."

I wanted to comfort him, to tell him everything would be okay, but the words got stuck in my throat. Because they wouldn't be okay, would they? Not really.

A nurse came in then, smiling when she saw me awake. "Well, hello there, Beth. Good to see those eyes open. How are you feeling?"

I gave her the same answer I'd given Nathan, and she nodded sympathetically.

"That's to be expected, I'm afraid. I'll let the doctor know you're awake. He'll want to come and check on you."

As the nurse left, and Mum and Nathan went to grab some food, I felt myself starting to drift off again. I was exhausted even though I'd done nothing but sleep for a month, but my brain wouldn't shut up. It kept going round and round with all these heavy thoughts about life and death and what comes after.

I must've dozed off for a bit because the next thing I knew, there was a gentle knock at the door. I blinked, trying to focus my fuzzy eyes on the person coming in.

"Hello, Beth," said a voice I sort of recognised. "I'm Dr Collins. How are you feeling?"

I tried to sit up a bit, wincing at the pain in my gut. "Like I've been hit by a bus," I mumbled. "But I guess that's normal, right?"

He gave me a small, sad smile. "Unfortunately, yes. Terminal cancer is... well, it's a tough one."

I nodded, swallowing hard. We both knew what he wasn't saying - terminal cancer is pretty much a death sentence. But I didn't want to think about that right now.

"Can I ask you something?" I said, barely above a whisper. "While my mum's not here?"

He pulled up a chair, looking at me closely. "Of course, Beth. What's on your mind?"

I took a deep breath, steeling myself. "I want to know about organ donation. For people like me, with cancer. Is it... is it even possible?"

His eyebrows shot up, clearly not expecting that. He was quiet for a moment, probably trying to figure out what to say.

"That's... quite a mature thing to be thinking about, Beth," he said finally. "What's got you thinking about this?"

I shrugged, then immediately regretted it as pain shot through my body. "I dunno. I guess... if I'm going to die anyway, I want to do something good, you know? Help someone else, maybe."

Dr Collins nodded slowly. "I see. Well, it's not a simple yes or no answer, I'm afraid. With any cancer, organ donation can be... complicated."

"Because of where the cancer is?" I asked.

"Partly, yes," he said. "The pancreas is right next to a lot of other organs, which makes things tricky. There's also the risk of the cancer spreading to other parts of the body."

I felt my heart sink a bit. "So it's not possible then?"

"I didn't say that," he said gently. "It's not impossible, but it does need a lot of careful thinking. The type and stage of cancer, the treatments you've had, your overall health - all of these things matter. Some also have a lower chance of transmitting to a recipient. For example, some types only have about a 1% chance of giving the person cancer if they receive an organ from someone with active cancer. It really depends on the specific type we're dealing with."

I nodded, trying to take it all in. It was a lot to get my head around, especially when my brain felt like it was full of cotton wool.

"What... what would it be like?" I asked. "If I wanted to do it, I mean."

Dr Collins leaned back in his chair, looking thoughtful. "Well, first off, it would mean a lot of talking - with your doctors, with transplant specialists, and most importantly, with your family. It's not a decision to take lightly, Beth."

The thought of talking about this with Mum and Dad made my stomach churn. I knew it would break their hearts. But I also knew I had to think about it.

"If... if it was possible," I pressed on, "what could I donate?"

Dr Collins's face softened. "With pancreatic cancer, it's usually the organs furthest from the pancreas that we consider. Things like corneas, heart valves, skin grafts... But Beth, I want to stress that this is all just hypothetical right now."

I nodded, feeling a weird mix of emotions I couldn't quite sort out. Hope, fear, sadness, determination - they were all swirling around in my chest like a storm.

"There's also the timing to think about," he went on, his voice gentle but honest. "Organ donation usually happens when someone is brain dead, while their body is still being kept alive by machines. It's... not a nice thing to think about, I know."

I swallowed hard, trying to get rid of the lump in my throat. "But it could help people, right? Make a difference?"

He nodded. "Yes, it absolutely could. Organ and tissue donation saves and improves thousands of lives every year. But Beth, I want you to understand something really important."

He leaned forward, looking me right in the eye. "Your life, who you are, it's worth more than just your physical body. The impact you've had on your family, your friends, the love you've shared and the memories you've made - that's a big deal too. Don't forget that."

I felt my eyes starting to water, and I blinked hard, trying not to cry. "I know," I whispered. "I just... I want to do something good, you know? Leave something positive behind."

Dr Collins reached out and patted my hand. "That's a very brave way of thinking, Beth. But remember, you're already doing good just by being you. The love you share with your family, the strength you're showing in facing this illness - that's making a positive impact right now."

I nodded, not trusting myself to speak. We sat in silence for a moment, the only sound the annoying beep of the monitors.

"Tell you what," Dr Collins said finally. "I'll get you some info on organ donation for cancer patients. You can have a read, think about it. But I want you to promise me something, okay?"

I looked at him, waiting.

"Promise me you'll talk to your parents about this," he said. "They need to be part of this conversation. And promise me you won't make any decisions right now. Give yourself time to really think it through."

I nodded. "I promise."

"Good," he said, standing up. "Now, try to get some rest. Your body needs it."

As he turned to leave, I called out, "Dr Collins?"

He turned back. "Yes, Beth?"

"Thanks," I said softly. "For being straight with me. For not treating me like a kid."

He smiled, a hint of sadness in his eyes. "You're welcome, Beth. You're quite a remarkable young woman, you know that?"

As he left, I let my eyes close, feeling drained but somehow lighter. I'd taken the first step towards something that felt important, even if I wasn't quite sure what that something was yet.

I must've fallen asleep again, because the next thing I knew, Mum and Nathan were back, talking in hushed voices by my bed.

"...doctor said she's been asking about organ donation," I heard Mum whisper, her voice all choked up.

"Oh, Beth," Nathan murmured.

I kept my eyes shut, not ready to deal with their reactions just yet. I knew we'd have to talk about it eventually, but for now, I just wanted to rest. To let the weight of what I was thinking about settle over me.

As I drifted back to sleep, I found myself thinking about the future - not just my own uncertain one, but the futures of the people I might be able to help. The lives that might be saved or made better.

It wasn't much, in the grand scheme of things. But maybe, just maybe, it could be enough. Enough to make some sense out of this mess. Enough to leave a mark on the world, even if I wouldn't be around to see it.

With that thought, I let sleep take me once more, hoping that when I woke up, I'd have the strength to have the conversations I knew were coming. The strength to face whatever was ahead, whether it was more treatments, tough decisions, or the end itself.

Because no matter what happened, I was determined to face it on my own terms. To make whatever time I had left count for something.

And maybe, just maybe, to leave the world a tiny bit better than I found it.​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​