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This is the story
of my last and greatest wish.

A dream I want to share with my son.

That's what this notebook is for.

Hopefully, for him to learn
how important it is to be yourself

and for him to know his story.

I just hope I can finish it.

This way, please.

Excuse me.

Wait in the waiting room.
They'll look for you.

Yes, here's her bag…

Thanks.

Hey, Fede, I don't want to stay here.

If the insurance people don't listen,
they must give us a room.

Fine, but call them and drive them crazy.

It's a six-month treatment.
They must give me a bed.

I'll drive them crazy until they listen.

-Drive them really crazy.
-Yes. Done.

-Did you talk to Tomy?
-Yes. He was just waking up.

I told your dad I would pick him up later.

-Did you talk to the doctors?
-I did.

And?

They said they'll give you
"tose" or "tilose," I don't know.

Something for bowel obstruction.

So I have to stay here?

Until it works, I guess.

Come on, Fede, I'm not stupid.
I had my ovaries removed, not my brain.

Come on. They wouldn't hospitalize me
just to make me shit. What is it?

Well.

"We have to talk"
is always followed by something terrible,

but not as terrible as that one time.

Two days after the surgery
that took my uterus, my ovaries,

and several other things to be tested,
I knew something was very wrong.

But not even the surgeon
dared to tell me.

Everything feels
more intense and vivid when you are dying.

You want to feel, taste, and love.

But, at the same time,
that intensity is unsustainable.

No ill body can stand it.

So, you have to look for ways
to entertain, amuse and distract yourself.

That’s where social media comes in,
or rather Twitter,

where you can be dramatic
or argue for hours

about whether to use
tampons or pads, sure.

But also where I can share
what's happening to me.

Having cancer is like having the flu.

It's nothing to be ashamed of,
but it’s a thousand times worse.

And not talking about it
is being like those who just say,

"It's a long and painful illness."

As soon as I posted it,
I got a huge amount of supportive notes

from people I don't even know.

Now, no offense to anyone,

I'll tell you the phrase I hate hearing.

"Everything will be all right."

All right my ass.

Telling a cancer patient
everything will be fine

is like telling someone
who's about to cross the desert

that at the very end, there's an oasis.

He goes to school tomorrow.

Okay, let's get on the bed.

Easy.

There.

The slippers.

Careful with your IV.

Could you hand me
the control, Luis, please?

Look, this button is to ask for tea,

to go to the bathroom, or anything.

And this one is for morphine rescue.
As soon as you feel any pain, ask for it.

Don't wait until you feel strong pain.
Ask for it. Okay?

If there's anything you need, call us.

Okay, thanks.

-See you later.
-See you later.

So? Do you like your room?

It's nice, isn't it?

It has a view.

What do you see?

Not much.

It's quite lousy, actually.

Are you sleeping over?

Of course.

What do we do about Tomy?

I've got that covered.

Your dad or my mom
will take him to kindergarten.

I'll pick him up,

bring him here, and then take him back.

-Are you sleeping on that sofa?
-Yes.

You'll get herpes.

I'll ask Adrián for a sleeping bag.

They'll kick us out.

No, I'll use it at night,
then put it away.

It's fine.

-Federico?
-Yes.

How are you? Diego Vigna, Chief Physician.

-How are you? It's a pleasure.
-Good.

I don't wear my scrubs on Sundays,
but I always come to visit some patients.

-Illnesses take no holidays, you know.
-Sure.

I've just seen María.
I wanted to tell you about her situation.

There's no bowel obstruction.

The pelvic tumor
is pressing on her duodenum.

Since the indicators are not good,

I think the best for her
is to remain hospitalized.

Given her condition,
we can't operate on her or continue chemo.

And what can we do?

Meanwhile, we can improve her conditions.

I would give her some corticoids
to try and control the tumor.

Either way, all that is temporary.

There's nothing left to do
about the disease?

Yes, a lot can be done.

We can reduce her pain, for instance.
That's important.

We can keep her company.
That's also very important.

Look, in these cases,
I always have two priorities.

That patients don't suffer
and that they go home as soon as possible.

It's always better for them
to wait at home,

in a familiar atmosphere,
surrounded by loved ones.

Some spiders have two eyes,
and others have more.

And how many legs do they have?

I don't know how many, but…

I should check.

Mom!

-Hi!
-Hello.

Hi!

-Hey!
-Give me your bag.

-There it is.
-I'm so glad you came.

How are you?
How was your day at kindergarten?

Today I didn't…

-I didn't go to school the other day.
-Really?

It's so cool you came to visit me.

Later, I'll check out the kindergarten
near home to see if there's a vacancy.

Careful, it's too high.

This bed is not like the bed at home.
It's a robot bed.

Yes, lift it up, please.

I need my feet up high

and my head down low.

Bye!

I'm folding over.

Keep going.

Bye!

When I press this button, it explodes.

A bomb from the sky falls and explodes.

Great idea, Tomy. Make the bed explode.

No!

Fede?

I want you to bring me a notebook.

You can ask Lourdes.
She makes handmade ones.

There's one with a wolf on the cover
that is very cute.

I want to write some things to Tomy.

Okay.

INFORMATION

We said at 10:00 a.m.
What time is it?

Twenty past ten.

We're going to miss the visiting hours.

They're until 12:00 p.m., Maru.

-Hi, how are you?
-Good morning.

-What time do visiting hours end?
-At 12:00 p.m.

Hello, good morning.

So, what time do they end?

There they are.

Those bitches.
They arranged to come all together.

No big deal.

Why didn't you tell me
you were meeting before?

We wanted to bring her something,
a little present.

Why a present? We didn't bring anything.

Never mind, we'll share it.

It's from all of us. It's okay.

-No, what? Go and buy something. Go.
-Where will I get something now?

I don't know. Bring anything.

Well, there's a mall two blocks from here.

-Are you kidding?
-Well.

-Give me the car keys, I'll go.
-No. You go, I'll go to the mall.

I'll go too, just in case.

-Wait. Which room is she in?
-Second floor, 216.

216. Why does she get like that?

Well, it's okay.

Hey, we're not going upstairs
all together, are we?

-No, let's go in groups.
-Let's go quietly.

No, to the right.

Fede.

How are you?

-What's up?
-How's it going?

-Hi.
-How are you?

-How are you?
-Fine.

Fine? Hey, you'll have to wait a bit
because she's with the doctor now.

-Okay.
-The rest are coming up anyway.

What, everyone came?

-Yes.
-Yes.

-Will they let us in all together?
-I don't know. Let's try.

-Do you want to sit?
-No.

How is she?

Fine. Calm.

Is she in pain?

She says a little.

That she can take it.
You know what she's like.

Oh, I got her an amazing room.
Great. Five stars.

That's great.

Okay, very well.

-How are you feeling today?
-Bad.

I'm hospitalized again, 20 doctors saw me,

no one can do anything.
I'm sick of being in bed.

I understand. What about the pain?

No, that's fine. I can still take it.

-Did you go to the bathroom yet?
-No.

Okay. We'll be monitoring that.

I'll raise your backrest
so we are at the same height.

There.

How are you?

Very well.

I'm great.

One question.

When this gets unbearable,
you'll put me to sleep, right?

We'll talk about that at some point.

And then we won't discuss it again.
But not yet.

How much longer will it take?

-For what?
-For that moment to arrive.

No, well, I can't know that.

Anyway, nobody leaves before their time.

Don't worry,
I can't do anything to speed it up.

-Do you feel comfortable in this room?
-I do.

It matters to me that you're well.

What do you think?

Why did this happen to me?

It didn't happen to you.

This is all yours.

It's not a virus, a bacterium
that comes from outside and attacks you.

Otherwise, it would be contagious.

This cancer is...

100% yours.

We could say it's named María.

Let's not say that.

-No, right?
-No.

It's genetic.

Yes, there are some cancers that…

are related to customs, habits.

If you smoked
three packs of cigarettes a day,

it's likely that you'd get lung cancer.

But, in general, it has to do
with your genetic information.

Could they come in?

This is a rally.

They're all friends.

Tell them to go in.

-Come on.
-Hello.

-Hello.
-How are you?

Thanks.

How is she?

She knows everything.

She got it quickly. She's smart.

I'm starting to see
the kind of relationship you two have.

It's a sanely pathological symbiosis.

Don't worry,
I have the same thing with my wife.

Well, Tomy, look, here's your mother,

in this mega-super-ultra-VIP room,

which your father got,
because he's a damn genius.

Look at these amazing designer armchairs.

Look at this floor.

And let me show you, son,

what the bathroom looks like.

Look at this, marble.

Marble.

It's spectacular.

Well, and here's your mother,

who, as usual, for a change,
pays little attention to me,

plays the fool and looks at her phone,

tweets and who knows what.

Always the same.

-And here we are with all our friends.
-Try harder.

I'll introduce them to you, son, look.

-This is Shoy.
-Foot.

She's an eminent Lacanian psychologist.

No, stop it.

-What did I say wrong?
-I'm not a psychologist.

-What are you?
-An analyst.

-She'll hit you.
-No…

She's a Lacanian analyst, sorry.
I apologize.

It's worse.

-Here's Paula.
-Hello, Tomy.

-She's a writer.
-I am.

You'll read her book
because she mentions your mom in it.

Here's Charlie.

Hi, Charlie.

Ladies and gentlemen.

-More than a friend…
-He's a sister.

-A sister, right.
-Totally.

Be careful with what you say.

Here we have Brenda. She's an artist.

Actually she's a "sartist"
because she's sick of everything.

Sick of everybody.

There she is.
She's a designer, an illustrator.

A genius.

This is, ladies and gentlemen, Vera.

Believe it or not, she's the CEO
of an insurance company.

-She's tanned all year round.
-Believe it or not!

-Gorgeous.
-And here's Leti.

She works for the city government.

If you get into a mess, son,
talk to Leti and she'll fix it.

I'll fix it for you.

Look.

This is Agus.

She teaches journalism and dances tango.

-Yes!
-There you go!

That's it. Shake it!

-And here's Roxi.
-Yes.

A housewife, people.

What? Not exclusively.

-What?
-I'm a social worker as well.

But you didn't get your degree.
Did you finish the course?

Kick his ass.

Fine, social worker. Sorry.

And here's Maru.

I won't introduce this character to you

because you'll have to tolerate her
all your life.

Like Hernán, who's back there.
Poor good man.

Hernán buys and sells apartments.
What do they call it now?

A broker.

-A broker, right.
-A real estate broker.

-A broker.
-Exactly.

Well, here we are.

We're deciding
whether she stays here or we go home,

but they clean everything for you here.
It's like a honeymoon for us.

-Yeah, right.
-Look at this, son.

-Look at the view we have, panoramic.
-Spectacular.

-Pure cement, good cement.
-Look at the green field at the back.

So, here we are.

Among friends, laughing our asses off.

This is how your mother…

This is the kind of person your mother is.

This person.

And that's why I love her like I do.

Bye, son.

It's amazing how often people tell me
that I'm brave and strong.

I think that what I do
is the only possible option.

What else can I do?

Sink into self-pity?

I better do
the cancer show on Twitter.

The truth is, I feel bad all the time.

It's like succeeding all the time,
but the other way around.

Another eye.

And…

I think we'd better
leave the pizzas for later,

because I really enjoy making eyes.

This one is happy, and this one is angry.

-This one is very happy.
-And this one?

This one is sad.

-Why?
-Because these are happiness.

-Which color is anger?
-Red.

-And sadness?
-This one.

There are three happiness and one sadness?

Very good.

Is this one happy?

-No.
-Is this the sad one?

Three are happy, and this one is sad.

No, this… This one is angry.

And this one is happy.

Why is this one angry?

Because it wants the hap…
the angry one here.

This is the color for angry.

-Right.
-And this color is blue

that… is sadness.

It's true.

What an unlucky break
to get sick like this.

I miss going out for walks with you
and spending half an hour on each thing.

Sometimes, we go out wandering
to buy food, we eat ice cream,

and you throw a tantrum
and you don't want to walk.

And you want to get out of the stroller
in the middle of an avenue.

I miss this.

And I want you to know
that those have been…

…the happiest moments of my life…

…and I love you.

-Hello, María.
-Excuse me.

This is Marina, a new resident.

She started with us this week. She'll be
at the hospital for a few months.

-Hello, Marina.
-Hello, how are you?

-Fine.
-How did you do last night?

Not so good. Had some pain.

-And nausea?
-That too.

-Well, relax. We'll take care of that.
-Okay.

-Did you graduate long ago?
-In December, not long ago.

-Great.
-Yes.

-What specialty?
-Cardiology.

-Hello.
-Hello, Doctor.

-How are you?
-Not so well.

She feels a little pain.

Let's see.

Let me see.

-Here?
-Yes.

-Like a pull, right?
-Yes, like a pull.

If it gets more intense,
we'll have to administer some morphine.

Yeah? Can't we wait a little for that?

What for? No, it will relieve the pain.

I don't know, because it's not that bad.

You'll feel better.
Don't deprive yourself.

Fede,
we'll have to organize a little, right?

We don't know how long she'll be here.

Until her body can't take it, I guess.

But you know Marie.

One day, she'll say, "I've had enough,"

and want to organize it all,
even the time.

Yes, but this is not about Marie.
It's about you and Tomy.

I've organized Tomy's kindergarten
with my mom and Marie's dad.

It's not just kindergarten.
You have to eat.

You can't live off sandwiches.

If you have to spend a month or two here,
what'll you do?

We can't invite you over
because we live far away.

Perfect. Thanks,
I will manage some way. Yes.

You have to get changed,
for example, have some clean clothes--

Get off my back, Maru.
I'm in the trenches.

-So you haven't showered in 2 weeks?
-Is that even necessary?

-It's gross.
-Maru is right.

We have to get organized.

Yes, visits, for example.

You can't be here all day.

Fine.

I'll start a group chat without Marie,

with the 12-girl mob and Charlie.

and we'll get all visits organized
from Monday to Monday.

Hello?

Who is this?

Hello, how are you?

Yes, she received it.

Yes, she loved it.

Thank you very much.

Bye.

It was Lu, the notebook girl.

She's a friend of Marie
from another group, right?

From the embroidering
and crafts group. That bullshit.

She's great, anyway.

She embroiders, but she's great.

Oh, I have a new ache every day.
Now my back hurts a lot.

Yes, you are in bed a lot.

We'll try to ask for an air mattress.

-It didn't hurt yesterday.
-Easy.

No, your body is more fragile.
You are more sensitive.

Hold the IV, please.

It's nice outside, isn't it?

Yes, it's sunny.

I want to see.

-Can you go alone?
-Yes.

Are you okay?

They're assembling
a huge crane over there.

Do you know
if they're building something?

A mall, they say.

It's hard to accept that the world goes on
without us, but we must.

Or not even that.

We're so irrelevant to the universe

that it doesn't give a shit
if we accept it or not.

Even if you want to get on or off,

even if you want to pause
a level 100 evolving metastatic carcinoma

to, I don't know,
see your son finish primary school,

the world goes on, and on top of that,
it goes faster and faster.

What's wrong, María? What do you need?

I need to go to the toilet, now.
I have to throw up.

What was that?

Let's go.

I told you it wasn't a good idea
to camp there.

If you keep vomiting,
we'll have to give you a catheter.

-Okay.
-Okay?

-Better?
-Yes.

-Do you feel better?
-Yes.

If you need anything else, call me.

-Okay.
-Okay?

I didn't see anything. Go on sleeping.

Thanks.

Why didn't you call me if you felt sick?

Because you were sound asleep,
and you need to rest.

Also, because I should be able
to walk to the bathroom by myself.

I should.

I'm madly in love with your strong thighs,

your Mick Jagger haircut,
your mouth that looks like mine.

You are just like me when I was a child.
But I feel you are happier.

Could it be a wish?

I'd like to go far away,

to a field
where you could run wildly, screaming.

Congratulations
on the article about your wife.

-What article?
-The one in Clarín. Didn't you read it?

-No.
-I'll bring it to you.

Here it is.

WOMAN MOVES PEOPLE ON TWITTER

-When is this from?
-It's today's newspaper.

TELLING OF HER FIGHT AGAINST CANCER

Keep it.

-I'll bring it back.
-Yes, no problem.

Marie.

-Yes?
-Look what published in Clarín.

What's this?

Who's the author? Do you know her?

No. Have you read it?

Yes. It's a great article.

-Really?
-Yes, I mean it.

How are you, Maru?

I have no idea, I don't know.

She says the article is on the front page
of their site.

The article is the whole page.

Yes, I'll put her on.

Hi, how are you?

No, I have no idea.

Ask the girls.

See?

I'm becoming famous. Too late.

Okay.

See you later.
See you in the afternoon. Kisses.

Do you think they'll start bothering us
with interviews now?

What's this scandal?

-Did you see?
-Are you a celebrity now?

-Hi.
-I can't believe it!

Right?

It's so unfair you're becoming famous
for cancer and not for your ass.

I can't believe it.

Such a nice ass!

My belly aches.

Do you need a hand to get on the bed?
You managed alone.

Would you help me
put the backrest up, Hernán?

Did other media call you?

Yes, but I won't waste time
on this nonsense now.

-Who called you?
-A morning show.

-Which one?
-From Channel 11.

Vero Lozano's show?

Yes, Vero Lozano's.

You'll do it.

No, I won't. What for?

-Why would I?
-Everybody watches that show.

And what do I care?
What difference does it make?

No, you're right. I don't know.

Did you bring me anything to eat?

We're not bringing you food anymore,
not after the other night.

-But Hernán brought you something.
-What?

Right.

The speaker.

-Thanks!
-So you can listen to music.

Thank you so much.

No, this one's yours.
The one you take to work.

It doesn't matter. It's yours now.

Thanks.

-Hello.
-Good morning.

Good morning.
Do you know where Dr. Vigna is?

I'll call him.

Dr. Vigna,
contact the information desk, please.

Thanks.

There are several things
left for your wife at the main desk.

-Several things? What things?
-Presents.

-Okay, I'll pick them up later.
-Okay.

Hello? Yes, Doctor.

The husband of the patient in room 216
is looking for you.

Okay, perfect. He says you can go
to his office upstairs.

-Great. I'll get the gifts later.
-I'll tell the desk.

Hello.

-Federico, come in.
-Excuse me.

-Nice article in Clarín.
-Yes, it is.

Thanks for mentioning the hospital.

No, we had nothing to do with it.
We don't even know who wrote it.

Take a seat.

Doctor,
Channel 11 wants to interview María.

-Live? With cameras?
-Yes.

You can't enter the hospital with cameras.

You know I do everything I can.

But you can't enter with plants,
in groups or with children.

However, I allow you to do those things.
But no cameras.

-The board would kill me.
-Right.

Why don't you do
the interview over the phone?

Maybe, yes.

It might be best.
She may not want to be seen like this.

She doesn't care about that.

Yes, anyway.
What matters is what she says, right?

How long until they call?

Three minutes.

-Does it still hurt?
-A bit.

-Well, I'll ask for morphine.
-No, wait. Don't.

-You can't do the interview in pain.
-I'll put up with it a bit.

I don't want it now,
I'll be drooling like a fool.

I don't want that.

I don't want that.

Look, this is the channel.
That's the show.

Social media is an endless resource,

not only for catharsis,
to communicate moods, to protest…

-Is she on?
-Not yet.

…in 140 characters,
but also to talk about diseases,

to identify with someone else

who may be going through the same thing
on the other end.

We learned about María Vázquez's story.
A very special story.

She has cancer,
she's in treatment fighting cancer,

and is in the final stages
of chemotherapy.

Ovarian cancer. María, through her tweets,
told us all this. Leo will read it.

Let's see some tweets María Marie wrote
to welcome and talk to her.

MARÍA VÁZQUEZ FIGHTS CANCER

Well, she's on the line.
María Vázquez, how are you?

Vero and Leo here. How's it going?

Hi, Leo. Hi, Vero.

Hello, how are you?

Thanks for calling me.

-No, I can't hear anything.
-The feedback. What can I do?

Seven months ago,
I had quite a radical operation,

a hysterectomy.

Where I had everything removed.
I was completely emptied.

I got totally hollowed out.

More than before.

And from then on,
I started getting chemotherapy,

which worked and worked
until it didn't work anymore.

And… well…

Now there's nothing left to do.

We're here waiting for the time to come.

Waiting for…

What you say is really tough, but…

The time to die.
We have to put it starkly.

Yes, the time of my death.

Your time to die. There's nothing to do.
There's nothing left to be done?

I'm in quite a fragile state of health.

They can't operate on me,

I can't receive more chemotherapy
because I'm too weak.

In spite of that, I'm in a place
where they take good care of me.

It's a very nice place.
They treat me very well.

And, María, you have gone,
according to your tweets,

I think, through all moods.

You've shown humor, anger, and irony.

Which mood are you in currently?

Well, currently, it's funny,
because for those who come to visit me

I do a kind of cancer stand-up monologue.

So, unless you find me
puking in a bucket…

I'm generally surrounded by laughter.

And your kid is three years old, María,

and I mean, do you think about him when…

I think about him a lot.
I talk to him a lot too.

We record videos for him.

I explain everything as it is.

What have you told him?

We're gonna tell him that… in a while,
Mom will no longer be here,

but that I will always be in his heart.
And I think he will understand.

And your husband?
Are you together?

We're looking at your husband with you.

That photo we're seeing
is from my wedding.

I got married in total sin,

because I was seven months pregnant.

And that's Fede, yes.

My husband accompanies me,

takes care of me,
he's here with me all the time.

When they told you or when
you found out you had ovarian cancer,

did you have a positive attitude?
Did you feel you could pull through?

More than how I found out is
how I guessed it.

What was that like?

I went to have an ultrasound done

because my belly looked
as if I was six months pregnant.

And the doctor,

you know how doctors
talk between themselves

and they think you don't realize
what they're talking about.

-They sometimes underestimate patients.
-Exactly, they underestimate the patient.

So, the doctor told
the ultrasound technician,

"On a scale of 'I don't know what,'

where 45 is a lot,

what do you think this is?"
And the woman says,

"This? It's a hundred."

María, how old are you now?

I'm 42, and I'll be 43 in two days.

You'll be 43 in two days.

Exactly. If I make it…

I'll be 43.

You are so humorous and ironic about it,

I don't know whether it helps you
or it's your shield,

but it comes out all the time.

No, it doesn't help me.

And it's not a shield either.

This is how I really am.

This is the real me.

Sometimes my friends laugh their asses off

because they visit me,
and they are more dramatic than I am.

I think the right word is "acceptance."

It's accepting and…

And death is part of life.

Six. I have four, six, seven.

It's seven.

That much?

Seven is a lot.

One, two, three, seven, eleven.

Fourteen, seven, eleven, fourteen, seven.

You're very funny, Tomy.
You say such amusing things.

Come on, just one.
Besides, it's strawberry season.

I can't.
My body can't take them, Maru, I swear.

Come on. Just one.

-Just one.
-There you go.

-What's this?
-They've changed my mattress.

-Why?
-I wore the other one out fucking.

Right, the girls and I wanted to tell you

to take it easy,
because it's rumored in the hospital

that this room is a party.

Hey, Maru…

I want Fede to be with someone.
You take care of that.

I want him to get laid, to marry.

Look what I'm asking.

Marie, it took him 18 years to marry you.
Just getting laid would be okay for him.

No, I mean it. Seriously.

I don't want him to be depressed.

I want him to get laid,

to be happy. To live.

Despite the fact that I'm losing
my eyelashes, such a horrible thing.

I'm sorry. They've brought
many more things for your wife.

-More?
-After the show. Yes.

Even though I lost my ass, I lost 12 kilos

and I have less muscle tone than a slug,

I feel pretty.
Bald and looking like a skeleton.

They're in boxes
so they wouldn't get lost.

-Thanks.
-There's another one.

-Another? I'll come back later, okay?
-Okay.

It may seem trivial,
but brushing your teeth, putting on lotion

helps you keep feeling like yourself.

Cancer doesn't take your vanity away.

How does it look?

You look great today.

Well, yes, of course.

They gave me, like, three morphine shots.

I'm, like, floating.

Look, just what we needed.
This cat is everywhere.

It's a maneki-neko.

It brings luck.

What else did they bring me? What else?

Lotion, another lotion, more lotions.

-Hello.
-Hi.

We're bringing more presents.

As it is food, we had it in the fridge.

Many presents, María, huh?

No, you can take all this. I can't eat it.

Fede, see if you like anything,
otherwise they can take it.

They sent vitel toné.

Mozzarella sticks.

-No.
-I can't believe it.

-Carrot cake.
-No.

-And this one?
-What's that?

A strawberry and custard cake.

-Tomy might like this.
-You might like it.

Take everything, but leave that one
for this man, who'll eat it all.

Thank you very much.

We'll share it with the other nurses.

-Okay.
-Thanks.

-See you later.
-See you later.

-Hey, Marie.
-Yes.

They've requested three more interviews.

No, it's enough.

No way. See what you can say
to get out of them.

It's been enough.

Okay.

You have such good timing
to become famous, huh?

It's like a joke.

I'm going to talk to Néstor
from the city council, remember?

Maybe he can get me a disability permit,

so I don't have to struggle
to find a parking spot

or spend money on paid lots.

-Okay.
-Bye.

-Will you go limping?
-Yes.

Like this.

Can you bring Tomy?

Maru will bring him today.

We met in December 1991,
and we've been together ever since.

Long live love!

I couldn't wish you
anything better, my child,

than finding a love like this in life.

Kiss!

Two against one, get it?

Special, passionate, tempestuous.

Score!

Unique, loving.

A loving love, Mom, you're so silly.

How was your night?

Not so good. I vomited a bit.

-Did you eat anything?
-Strawberries.

-My bad.
-No.

It's okay.

But since you're vomiting,

there's a risk of inhaling it
and getting it in your lungs.

So, we're going to ask
for a nasogastric tube.

Okay.

It's a little annoying at first,
but you'll get used to it.

Yesterday you were telling me about
your family trip to Europe.

Maybe it's time for the sedation?

Maybe.

You'll know when it's time.

I'm finishing Tomy's notebook.

I have some pages left. Ten pages maybe.

Next week, perhaps.

Well, you tell me, and we'll set a date.

And what will it be like?

Just like a regular day.
You won't even notice.

We increase your morphine dose,

we add Midazolam,
a hypnotic drug, and you go to sleep.

And I don't wake up again?

We monitor you,

and we give you the proper dose
so you won't wake up.

Start thinking about
who you want to say goodbye to.

I hadn't thought about that.

At night, with the candles lit,
it will look great.

Yes. Why don't we take pictures
and post them?

Or is it too much?

No…

Come in.

-I want to talk to you.
-What is it?

How is she?

Charlie…

What did the doctor say?

Nothing, what would he say?

Sometimes doctors consult each other,
they talk among themselves.

-You brought a present?
-I did.

She said she didn't want presents.

It's two Puck books
that complete her collection, that's all.

Well, come on.

She's asleep.

With everything they give her…

We're going to the cafeteria
to let her rest a bit.

I'll be there in a minute.

-See you.
-Hi.

-I thought you were sleeping.
-No.

What do you have there?

A burger.

I'll eat it outside later,
not to tempt you.

No, it doesn't make me hungry.

Hi.

Eat it here.

-I also brought some things you asked for.
-Good.

I was reading this book
Charlie gave me for my birthday.

The two Puck books I was missing.

I can't believe that he remembered.

He's a genius.

PUCK WINS

-Did you swing by the house?
-Yes, Rosa had been there.

Did you pay her?

No, she said to pay
all together next week.

She sends her regards.

What else?

I paid your phone, mine.

Both with a fine
because they were past due.

The window in Tomy's room still leaks.

So, as soon as I have time,

I'll take it out and seal it again.

Okay.

The plants are perfect.
They send their regards too.

-Take a picture of them.
-I will.

I gave the kindergarten principal a gift.
She really helped with the absenteeism.

Fede, shall we set a date?

-Have you talked to Vigna?
-I have.

He told me we could set a date
whenever I want.

Okay.

It could be on Friday.

What do you think?

Okay.

We have to talk with Tomy first.

Tomorrow or after tomorrow.

Every agreement has a catch.

Back then, Fede agreed to be with me
until death did us part.

Federico!

But he didn't read the small print.

How are you?

I need you to get a notary
to certify that María consents

to her terminal sedation.

-Was there a problem?
-No.

-It's good to have something like that.
-Where do I get a notary?

Ask Reception.
They know a clerk's office in the area.

-Does he have to come?
-They know what to do.

-I'll go now so I don't lose time.
-Let me know. I'll stay late.

He probably never imagined
that that moment would arrive so soon.

But this is it for me.

-Which floor is the clerk's office?
-Third.

Thanks.

I'd rather he took me to Paris,

but right now
the best present he can give me

is arranging my death.

Hello.

-Good afternoon.
-I'm looking for Mr. Ceruolo.

Senior or junior?

Either is fine.
It's about a certification.

Take a seat. I'll let him know.

-Thanks.
-Wait here.

I don't think I've ever seen
such an act of love in my life.

Please, come in.

Thank you. Excuse me.

-Good afternoon.
-Good afternoon.

-How are you? Take a seat, please.
-Excuse me.

How can I help you?

My wife is hospitalized
a few blocks away,

and I need you to certify
an authorization.

Do you have the paper?

No, I don't have anything.

It's a deed,
so I need to take the printed text.

Right. But nobody told me anything.

Well, let's see,

go to the hospital and tell them
to help you, to give you a sample.

-Okay?
-Okay, I'll go there and come back.

No, not now. It's late.

-It has to be tomorrow. Okay?
-Could it be after hours?

What is it about? Is it urgent?

My wife is dying, and I need her to sign
the authorization for terminal sedation.

Okay.

I'll wait for you.

Let's do this.

Here's my card. Go do what you have to.

I'll stay here for a while.
If you are delayed, call me.

-Thank you very much.
-No, please.

No problem.

My clothes are all yours.

Make a first selection. They're all yours.

My mom's wedding dress, her bags,

antique jewelry, that's all yours.

Then, you can donate
or give away the rest.

Or throw it away.

Do whatever you want.

Give my embroideries to Vera.
She'll know what to do.

Makeup, your call.

Give my Puck collection to Agus,
Paula's daughter.

Oh, this. Throw things away.

Do it mercilessly. Fede won't be able to.

You throw things away. Whatever doesn't…

This is important.

There's a Trío los Panchos CD,
"Historia de un Amor."

It's our song from when we met,

the one he made me listen to
in the early days of our relationship.

Get it, make it disappear.

I know Fede will find it, listen to it,
and he'll feel terribly down.

Wasn't your song "Contigo Aprendí"?

-No.
-Manzanero's song.

No. Don't throw away the wrong CD.

No, no. Fine. "Historia de un Amor."

Give a good gift to Dr. Molina.

Okay.

Molina.

The nurses. Give them gifts too.

Charlie gets the dryer.

-He's really happy.
-It's the best present.

You're no longer by my side, love

I only have loneliness in my soul

Well, stop. It'll bring you down too.

I'm done. That's it.

Okay?

Dr. Vigna,
please come to Information.

-He'll be here.
-Thanks.

Doctor, how are you?

Doctor.

I need the paper María has to sign.

No, forget about that.
Come, the director is waiting.

-What happened?
-Nothing that can't be solved.

Another problem?

Don't worry, leave it to me.
I'll handle it.

Say "yes" to everything he says.

Well, Federico,
you know we love María a lot,

and we love you a lot too.

We think the fortitude you're showing
in this situation is remarkable.

That's why we try to make you feel
as comfortable as possible.

-Right, Doctor?
-Yes, of course.

Thank you for that, I mean it.

But there's a delicate issue here.

You know that the line between euthanasia
and terminal sedation is very thin

and gives rise
to multiple interpretations.

In fact, there are
many colleagues, professionals,

who do not agree with terminal sedation.

Yes, I think that
due to a semantic issue,

we should call it
"compassionate sedation," not "terminal."

Yes.

The Death With Dignity Act states

that terminal sedation
must be proposed by the physician

in consent with the patient
or his or her relatives,

in case he or she
is in no condition to decide,

the day the pain becomes unbearable

or when the procedures to fight it
are not working.

But we cannot say
we're going to do it in five days.

Because that would imply
that the patient can live with the pain,

that it's not unbearable
and that less extreme methods are working.

Look, Federico, this is a regular practice
in this clinic. Right, Doctor?

Yes, it's regular.

But in María's case,
she's a public figure.

Clarín's front page, TV interviews.

All that social media stuff going viral.
People confuse everything.

I wouldn't be surprised if someone thought
that we're actually performing…

euthanasia.

Excuse me. I have to take this.

Listen, Federico.

If she were my wife,

I'd take her home and get someone
to administer her terminal sedation.

And I'm not telling you this
as the hospital director.

What are you going to do?
Take her home?

That's what the director said.
If she were his wife,

he'd sedate her at home.

Well…

I think he said that to show off.

What did Vigna say?

That he'll take care of it.

He's the head physician.
He must be able to do something.

Let's leave it to Vigna.

I'll call Adrián.

Adrián?

Adrián is a dietitian, Fede.

What is he going to say?
What can he do?

He's a dietitian,
but a doctor too.

That has nothing to do with this.

A dietitian…

Why don't they sedate her in the hospital?

Because of all that mess I told you about.

She doesn't deserve to live like this.

Of course not.

Will you take her home?

Yes, that's the idea.

Come, let's sit inside.

Where are you going with this junk?

Up north. To Jujuy in the summer.

-You won't get far with this.
-You think so?

Come back in a few months
and check it out then.

I don't see it happening.

Look, Fede,

at-home sedation is not that simple,
you know?

You don't sedate her and be done.

You have to be there,
you have to monitor her.

You have to administer the drugs.

You have to keep her asleep

and at the same time start reducing
her hydration. Do you understand?

That could take five, six,
seven days. Even longer.

What a bummer, right?

-Is there anything faster?
-Euthanasia is faster.

I can get you a doctor
to help you, if you want.

No.

When all this started,

I promised Marie that if someone
had to do it, it would be me.

-Explain it to me.
-Okay.

Well, look. If you take her home,

ask the hospital people
to send her with a central IV line.

It's a catheter that is inserted
in one of the large veins

that lead to the heart.

-What if she already has it?
-No, she definitely doesn't.

But they'll realize if I ask them that.

There's no one you trust at the hospital?

No, not for that.

I don't know…

Let me…

And once she has that, then what?

Once she has that, you go to a pharmacy
and ask for potassium chloride.

-Potassium chloride.
-Hi, Fede.

-How's Marie doing?
-Hi, Estela. She's hanging on.

I have to visit her.

Maybe I'll make some time
and go see her this week.

I'm going to your mom's.

-Okay. I'll pick you up later.
-Okay.

-Send her a kiss.
-I will.

-What should I ask for?
-Potassium chloride.

-They'll just give it to me?
-It's an over-the-counter medicine.

It's used for diarrhea, vomiting.
It'll be fine.

Once you have it, bring it to me.
I'll prepare the syringe.

You just have to inject it
in the catheter.

Will you dare do it?

I will.

Does it come up
in an autopsy or something?

If they do an autopsy, it does.

But who requests an autopsy
for someone who died of terminal cancer?

And if they don't give her the central IV?

You have to put the potassium
directly in the IV dispenser.

It's slower.

Try to get them
to put the central line in.

It's faster.
It goes straight to the heart.

Doctor.

-Yes, how are you?
-May I speak with you?

Take it to the lab.
I'll see you there. Yes.

-We're going home.
-Talk to Dr. Vigna about it.

Yes, of course. But I need you
to put a central line in her.

A central line? What for?

For… medications,
in case she needs them, I guess.

Who told you that?

Her clinician, our family doctor.

No, have him call us.
We can't put in a central line.

There has to be a medical reason for it.

Have him call us.

Okay.

Thanks.

What did Adrián say?

-Do you remember what we talked about?
-I do.

That if someone had to do it,
it had to be me.

Yes.

It's a little potassium.

It's immediate.

Adrián prepares the syringe,
and I put it in your IV.

What if they find out?

That's impossible, Marie.

Adrián…

Adrián told me.

They don't do autopsies
on cancer patients.

Isn't it better if we go home?

Yes.

We go home and do it there.

But if we go home and I die the next day,
they'll catch us. They're not stupid.

And Tomy loses both his parents
because you can go to jail.

It's no good.

Are you drunk?
Did you drink a whole bottle of whiskey?

-What do you mean you're gonna kill her?
-Yes, I will.

We talked when this started.

She can't be here 5 more months.
And say goodbye 100 times?

Who told you she'll be here five months?

Five, ten days.
It's the same, it's torture.

She can't be like this.
She's put to sleep, wakes up.

Someone has to give her
that damn potassium.

Tell me I'm right.

I'm not crazy.
I can't see her suffer like that.

No, I know. I know you have to kill her,
but it sounds harsh when you say it.

Have you talked to that doctor,
Vigna, the chief?

I don't want to get him involved.

-He said he'd take care of it.
-He did to get me off his back.

-Federico, I was looking for you.
-How are you?

-I'll go with Marie.
-Okay.

Dr. Vigna told me
María has to sign this form

to decline receiving
resuscitation procedures. Okay?

Once she signs this,
he'll order the sedation for Friday.

Finally.

It's been a nightmare.

Do we need the notary
to come for the signing?

No, her signature is enough.

But mind you, no social media.

-No, of course.
-Good.

-Okay, thanks.
-No problem.

Marie, honey.

You have to sign here.

-Where?
-There.

There.

There you go.

Sign there,
and they'll sedate you on Friday.

And that's it.

Who authorizes this?

Vigna.

Done?

I'll go before he regrets it.

-Calm down a bit.
-I'm in a hurry. What do you expect?

Will you organize my farewell?

There's Roxy.

-Hi.
-Hi.

Hi.

Am I the first?

No, Leti went first.

-How was it? What did you talk about?
-I don't know. What do you want me to say?

-And you?
-No, I asked to go last.

But I don't know if I'll go in yet.

I don't know…

Shit.

Okay.

-Have a Clonazepam.
-Yes. Can I have one more?

No, girl, two? You'll go in drooling.

But she cries a lot.
Maybe I could give her another one.

-You could take one when you go out.
-Yes, or later.

-I'd rather…
-It's a lot.

-I'll give it to you later.
-Okay, I'll go upstairs.

Good luck.

Hello, Roxy.

Hello, Marie.

I'm an asshole.

They told me a thousand times.

I'm sorry.

There, Roxy, there.

I never…

It's the first time
I've had a farewell like this.

Well, don't worry.

It's the first time I'm dying too.

You're always the same.

Look.

I also got a tattoo.

I'll remember you always.

When I get changed,
when I take a shower, when I fuck.

Whenever you have some free time,
take Tomy out.

Okay? Take Tomy for a walk.

-Remember.
-Yes.

Say hello to your mom.

Excuse me.

Come here, Charlie.

I don't know how to say goodbye.
How? How do we do this?

It's a pleasure to have met you.

I don't know. Just that.

-And how is the construction going?
-It's halted.

Apparently, I have to get more money.

You have to work, Charlie.
You have to work a lot. I mean it.

Make a lot of money. A lot of money.

I want to thank you for…

for all the years
of knowing each other because…

you are the only person
with whom I could be spontaneous.

I'm an atheist, like you.

But…

if there is an afterlife…

send me signs.

I don't know…

Write to me…

on a misty mirror in the bathroom.

Or in that little notebook you gave me,

lined in fabric. Write to me there.

Write something.

Why don't you go, Charlie,
if you have stuff to do? Just go.

No. I canceled everything today.

It's D-Day.

-Lucho.
-Hi.

Hi, Mom, how are you?

-Fine.
-Hello, honey.

-Hi.
-Do you want us to go with you, Fede?

No, you'll go later.

Besides,
I'm leaving Tomy alone with Marie.

Have a seat.

It's a little button that's there
in case someone needs help.

You press it, it rings a bell,

and that bell
makes someone come and repair it.

Did it go crazy?

A little.

-A little?
-Yes.

Not a lot?

Hello.

-Hello.
-Hello!

Hello!

-Hello.
-There.

Hello.

-Hello.
-I'll be outside if you need anything.

-Let me know.
-Okay.

-Hi.
-Who is the skull guy?

-Right?
-I thought…

Which one is it?

That one?

Fried egg face.

Tangerine face?

I guessed it!

Now it’s my turn. Focus.

Let’s see if you can guess this one.
It’s a hard one.

Yes.

It's…

It's banana face.

Banana. Now you.

And that face?

Is it bitter?

Grapefruit?

-Really?
-You have a star now.

-Yes, because I won.
-No, you have no stars.

None? No stars?

-Because you lost.
-And where do you go when you lose?

Nowhere, you stay here. To play.

I could never explain to you
how much I love you,

the joy of seeing your expressions…

and the anger I feel
for having left so soon.

But living includes dying,
and often in a way that is…

Unfair? Unnecessary?

Well, there are worse deaths,

lives without love,
joy, passion or anything,

without Fede, Marie or Tomy.

This is a sad and sweet death.
Think about that.

You'll understand it, my little boy,

my okapi.

Hello, good afternoon.

Can you wait a second? She's with our son.

-Yes.
-We'll be back at the end of the round.

Thanks a lot. You're very kind.

Thanks.

What time is it?

Almost 5:00 p.m.

Hey, she had 2,000 retweets.

-Hello. How are you?
-Hi, how are you?

-Everything okay?
-Yes.

-Can I ask something?
-Yes.

-Does this dose have an immediate effect?
-What dose?

-The sedation dose.
-No, this is the regular dose.

Why the regular dose?
We agreed she'd be sedated.

Not that I know of.

She signed the form.

-You'd better talk to Dr. Molina.
-Where is she?

On the second floor.

I'll be right back.

Listen to me, Doctor.
Why won't you put her to sleep?

You listen to me. I'm not willing
to cross certain boundaries.

-What boundaries are you talking about?
-The boundaries of my convictions.

Fine, I'll ask Dr. Diego Vigna

to send a person who's willing to do
what has to be done.

Fine, that's your decision.

Doctor, I understand
and respect your position.

I do. Period.

But please try to understand me.

María can't keep living
under these conditions.

Vomiting the few things she eats
with unbearable pain.

If there was a slight hope,
let's say one in a thousand,

I'd agree with you.

But you know there isn't.

Look, life is sacred to me,
even in María's state.

I can kill pain, but not the person.

That's why I chose to be a doctor.

Excuse me a second.

Federico.

-How are you?
-What happened?

Let me tell you.

They are on to us.
It's not because of me or the director.

The hospital lawyer came
and was quite blunt.

He doesn't want
the terminal sedation for María.

If we do it and they ask
for her medical history, they'll notice.

-But it's not illegal.
-They panicked.

They fear the media.

They fear some unscrupulous reporter

publishing an article
accusing the hospital

of performing undercover euthanasia.

Imagine, "Hospital Kills a Patient."
That always sells.

-So, now what?
-No, relax.

The difference is
what we could've done in two days,

we're gonna do in seven or eight.

So nobody suspects anything.

Won't she suffer?

No. Her brain's pain receptors
will be inhibited.

-But she's gonna be conscious?
-No.

She won't be conscious. She won't suffer.

These beautiful eyebrows.
Are they like Mom's?

-No.
-Like your dad's?

No.

Like yours?

I ate a man.

-Did you know?
-Yes.

I was hungry, and I ate him.

I ate another fish.

I ate a lady!

I ate a lady.

I ate a fish.

Let's go to the next fish.

It escaped…

I'll eat it.

They killed me!

They killed me!

They killed me. I can't believe it.

-They killed you?
-They did.

-Oh!
-They killed me.

They are mean.

What a shame.

What a shame.

What a shame. Jeez!

Not ice cream, nor movies,

nor the pretty things,
nor the ugly things,

nor the leaves of the trees…

But I will be in your heart
until you aren't here anymore,

but you'll be
in other people's hearts.

And so nothing ever dies.

And something always lives on.

You're no longer by my side, love

I just have loneliness in my soul

And if I can no longer see you

Why did God make me love you?
To make me suffer more?

You always were my reason to live

Worshiping you was my religion

And in your kisses, I found

The heat of passion and love

It's the story of a love like no other

That made me understand good and evil

That gave light to my life

And then turned it off

Oh, what a dark life

I won't be able to live without your love

It's the story of a love