The Fault in Our Stars

When Augustus comes home from the hospital a few days later, he is mostly bedridden, heavily medicated, and “irrevocably robbed of his ambitions” (248). His older sisters have come back home with their husbands and children to be near him for what everyone understands is the end of his life. They fawn over him, and everyone waits on him hand and foot; Hazel can tell that he finds this degrading and exhausting. As some of Augustus’s little nephews run around screaming, his sister tells him, “‘I can only hope they grow into the kind of thoughtful, intelligent young man that you’ve become,’” at which Hazel “[resists] the urge to audibly gag” (250). Hazel and Augustus joke about how his thoughtfulness and intelligence are actually less important than his good looks. Augustus says things like, “‘It is my burden, this beautiful face,’” and, “‘Don’t even get me started on my hot bod’” (251). Augustus’s dad whispers to Hazel that he thanks God for her every day because she is still able to bring out Augustus’s sense of humor. 

Hazel reflects once again on the genre of the cancer story: “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 where it seems like the inexorable decline has suddenly plateaued” (253). On this day, Augustus calls Hazel and asks her to meet him at the Literal Heart of Jesus (the church basement where the Support Group is held) that evening at eight p.m. and to bring a eulogy. An argument ensues between Hazel and her parents when her mom remarks that she is spending too much time with Augustus and they never see her anymore. She finally tells them angrily that any day now, they won’t have to worry about that anymore and storms out of the house. 

That evening, Hazel attends a “prefuneral” for Augustus. She and Isaac give eulogies, and in her eulogy, Hazel says she is glad to have had the short time she did with Augustus.