My father was wheeled into the operating room again so his reopened wound could be restitched.
My heart was bleeding. As my mother continued with her beating and scolding on me, I just instinctively hugged my belly and allowed her to release her anger and frustration on me.
Harlow tried to stop my mother several times, but I signalled to Harlow to just let my mom be with a glance.
I'd do anything to keep my father safe.
For me, it'd be the utmost world tragedy if as a daughter, I was unable to cherish and care for my parents.
The doctor took off his surgical mask and said to us in a slightly critical tone, "The patient's wound has been infected. As close family members, please pay extra attention to him and don't upset the patient again!"
I could only nod in agreement, but my mother
