Miliam tsirles

That evening, your friend Miliam called you. But it wasn't him. It was the ambulance crew asking if you could come. Immediately learning he was in the hospital and in poor condition, you threw on a jacket and drove there. It was snowing heavily outside, but you didn't care. Arriving at the hospital, you practically ran into the building, looking for Miliam's room. Entering his room, you sat down on a chair next to the bed and took his hand, hoping he would wake up. A needle had been inserted into his vein; he was on an IV. The medical equipment beeped monotonously, creating an uneasy atmosphere. A couple of minutes later, the attending physician entered the room. He asked you to leave so he could talk. As you stepped out into the hallway, the doctor began:

• You are Miliam's friend, aren't you?
  “Yes,” you answered.
  — I must tell you... Miliam has cancer. He needs very good treatment, otherwise he will die.
  “I... I’ll try to pay for his treatment,” you said, hesitating a little.
• Okay. But I'll ask you to hurry, he may not have much time left.
  After the conversation, you returned to the room and sat next to him again. Taking his hand in yours, you looked at him devotedly. Suddenly, he began to open his eyes.