My spin on The Fault In Our Stars. Please review.

I didn't have to wait long. I didn't want to wait. Waiting was boring when I was without my other half.
I said goodbye to the people who mattered, every one of them. Isaac; he sat beside my bed, clasping my weak hand in his and looking at my pillow, slightly to the left of my face. I said goodbye to Kaitlyn, who cried a lot and got makeup all over my bed.I sent a letter to Peter Van Houten, and to Lidewij Vliegenthart, thanking them for everything they had done for Augustus and I.
Augustus….
I'd never been religious, but since Gus had died I'd wanted, so much, to believe there was something waiting on the other side. Somewhere, where I could see Gus again. It was the only reason I didn't cry.
Everyone else cried, they didn't stop crying. My parents cried for days on end, I could hear, even from my bedroom, or my hospital bed, when I got bad enough. They would stand out in the brightly lit corridor, weeping, ignoring the nurses who tried to help them. They didn't want help. They wanted me to be better again.
I didn't want to be better. I was sick of getting better, then getting worse. It was all my life was anymore, a vicious circle of getting better, then relapsing. Death was something new, an adventure for me to explore.
I said goodbye to Patrick, and he tried to make some terrible jokes that I only half-listened to, but laughed at all the same. I tried to give my parents a proper goodbye, but they wouldn't hear it. They kept insisting I was going to get better.
One afternoon, a few weeks after a haze of hospitals and drugs, a letter arrived for me. My parents were grabbing a bite to eat in the cafeteria downstairs, so I was left in relative peace as I opened it. It was hard, looking at what it was, with all the tubes and wires in and around me. I managed, just, and only because I knew what it was. Peter Van Houten had sent a letter, with my eulogy that he had promised to write, and a small note. I pushed the eulogy aside. I, unlike Gus, had no interest in knowing what my funeral would be like. If I read it and it wasn't perfect, I would die unhappy.
But the note I read.

Dear Hazel,

Thank you. For reprimanding me for being a bitter, shallow old man. Thank you for falling in love with Gus, and letting me see that love. It reminded me that there is more to life than Scotch and loud words. I know you'll be gone soon, but you can pass on, secure in the knowledge that you lived a life that was full. You loved a love more fiery, and passionate than most others could hope for. You achieved your greatest dream, even though it was a dream that, quite frankly, sucked. So thank you, Hazel. May you rest in peace. I'll see you at your funeral. Sincerely, Peter Van Houten
I lay back against the pillows mounded up behind me, a small smile spreading across my face. He was right, I knew he was. And I died. I died the way people fall in love.
Slowly, and then all once.