“She has not stopped crying”. “Okay, I will come home as soon as possible”. I ran downstairs to the secretary who I always felt secure and at ease talking to. I went into my classroom and served a snack, crying frenziedly to eight three-year-olds in my classroom. Eight little innocent faces began observing me, taken aback to see their educator crying. One child, in particular, began rubbing his eyes and a couple of tears began to roll down his cheeks. Another child after five minutes told me how his mother would cry and her head would start to hurt because his father would sometimes scream at her. I couldn’t help but smile and cry at the same time. I left work and my mother and I wept in each other's arms for quite some time. That night a good family friend came from Ottawa to reassure us that removing a lobe from the lung was routine. He knew people that did it all the time and their surgeries went well. “Everything will be fine”, he said. However, sadness and anguish were still there. My mother went through an excruciating surgery on April 23rd, 2008. It was difficult to see her in so much pain after the surgery. She wouldn’t let go of the nurse’s arm and kept begging for water. My mother was the strong determined type who would never get sick and was always there to take care of her family. She became helpless. After spending two weeks in the hospital, my mother came home slowly regaining her strength. A biopsy was done three months later. Reports showed that her tumor was benign and that she was one of the lucky ones who did not require any chemotherapy or radiation. Essay on the Point of Mother Death.
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