“You cannot.” “It is my burden, this beautiful face.” “Not to mention your body.”
Seriously, don’t even get me started on my hot bod. You don’t want to see me naked, Dave.
Seeing me naked actually took Hazel Grace’s breath away,” he said, nodding toward the oxygen tank.
“Okay, enough,” Gus’s dad said, and then out of nowhere, his dad put an arm around me and kissed the side of my head and whispered,
“I thank God for you every day, kid.” Anyway, that was the last good day I had with Gus until the Last Good Day.
CHAPTER TWENTY
One of the less bullshitty conventions of the cancer kid genre is the Last Good Day convention,
wherein the victim of cancer finds herself with some unexpected hours when it seems like the inexorable decline has suddenly plateaued,
when the pain is for a moment bearable. The problem, of course, is that there’s no way of knowing that your last good day is your Last Good Day.
At the time, it is just another good day. I’d taken a day off from visiting Augustus
because I was feeling a bit unwell myself: nothing specific, just tired.
It had been a lazy day, and when Augustus called just after five P.M., I was already attached to the BiPAP,
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