I think this is really going to be it this time. My tissue isn't rejuvenating like it used to. My muscle, what little I have, is shrinking. I limp when I come back from death instead of walking away like nothing had happened. I'm getting older. Slower.
Weaker.
I've seen it all and came back from it, but this is a new one. A slow, systematic death. Very natural. Very real. Very serious. I told my friends I'd be fine. I'm always fine. Why should this time be any different?
But it got worse. Much worse. I had to go to the hospital. I've never been there before. Not as a patient while still alive anyway. It's always the morgue.
It's nice that the guys came. They've all been back since. Except for Stan. I know he doesn't like hospitals, but I'd like to see him again before I go. Besides, I know he'd feel bad if he didn't get to say goodbye.
They all give a shit this time. They all know it's coming, and they all care. I think that, more than anything, is what's making me believe there's really no coming back from this one.
At least Kyle's here. I should tell him to tell Stan goodbye for me. Maybe that'd be easier on the guy.
Only I can't say it. I can't speak at all. I can't breathe. This is it. This is it and he's going to miss it. I've said my peace with Eric and Kyle. Even Butters visited. But Stan...He'll never forgive himself if he misses this.
"Where's Stan?"
They're the last words I manage to get out.