Mother’s Proxy_(0)
“Sweetheart, we need to talk, please come here and sit.” My mother patted the cushion of the sofa, she sounded serious. Until a few months earlier my mother was fresh, healthy, pretty and vibrant with laughter and a zest for live. But now she was anorexic thin and pale. She looked so tired she could hardly sit straight, my heart started bleeding again because of her sickness. She had been in the hospital for weeks teetering between here and gone until she showed enough improvement to be allowed to come home. We were still not sure she would survive past a few more weeks but she did not want to leave us from the hospital, she wanted to be home with her husband and two children beside her if she died. I’m ashamed now to …