worst mother of a patient

Since I was in the hospital for nephritis, I needed a special diet. I wasn’t allowed to take in salt. Each meal for me was salt-free and it tasted horrible. My mother felt pity for me and brought salty snacks every time she visited me. She encouraged me to eat them under my bed lest anyone see that. One day, I was caught by the other kid’s mother. She asked me where I got the toxic foods. She was astounded to hear that my own mother had brought them to me. After three weeks in the hospital, my condition got better and I was allowed to take a bath. My mother unusually came to see me early on that day to accompany me in the bathroom. Back in my hospital room, she bound my hair with ribbons without drying it. A nurse saw it and sharply scolded us because I might catch a cold. My mother was smiling, embarrassed, but wouldn’t redo, as it was too tiresome for her to dry and bind my hair all over again. I admit I was a bad patient, but my mother was the worst mother of a patient…

sorrow and desperation led to unreasonable anger

Back in my hospital life of my childhood, the next room to mine was a room for six boys. One of them was a five-year-old boy with leukemia. He often hung around my room and we got along well. I taught him how to fold origami. Because he was little, his mother stayed at the hospital with him. She frequently yelled at him, hit him and even kicked him. I was terrified of her. One day, my mother came to see me and went to take some tea for me from the free tea stand near my room. There, I saw her talking with the boy’s mother and learned that he had only a few months to live. His mother sounded so gentle and so sad. I understood why she treated him like that. For the first time in my life, I realized that sorrow and desperation led to unreasonable anger. Although I was only nine years old, I had never felt mortality so closely and strongly while playing with him…