which probably made the doctor quite averse to me.
"The child has been pulled out of danger for now," the doctor said, frowning at me. "Go and complete the hospitalization procedures."
We followed the nurse to finish the hospital admission procedures, and it was already half past ten. Both of us, having not slept all night, were very tired. Especially my mother, who had been blaming herself, now had swollen eyes and a pale face.
"Mom, you rest here for a while, Ill go buy some breakfast," I said.
It was past the time for just breakfast; it was a combined meal of breakfast and lunch.
"Elizabeth, its all my fault, I didnt take good care of Charlie..." My mother was still full of self-reproach.
"Mom, its not your fault. Which child doesnt get sick when they are young?" I comforted her, but I was even more self-blaming than her. I had returned to work at The Imperial Joy just a month after giving birth, coming home every day drunk, and not even really seeing what my child looked like. My mother, who had never seen a subway in her life, had to endure the unfamiliar citys unease and fear, and also take care of me and the child. What qualifications did I have to blame her?
Every time I brought home a thick stack of money, I could find some comfort in my heart. I kept telling myself that all of this was worth it, at least to provide a better life for my mother and Charlie.
When we arrived at the hospital, it was almost dawn. Charlie was rushed into the emergency room, and my mother and I stood outside, both crying uncontrollably.
"Mom, its okay, everything will be okay," I wiped my mothers tears for her. She recognized the letters ICU and looked terrified when she saw them.
Because my father was pushed in here and never came out alive.
"Its going to cost a lot of money. Do you still have money?"
"I have it, Mom, I still have money," I couldnt help but cry, holding my mother. Besides money, I couldnt give them anything else.
"Your money didnt come from the wind. You took so much two years ago to treat your fathers illness. How can you still have it now?" My mother pulled me away, questioning seriously.
Although she didnt have much education, she was very meticulous. I couldnt let her find out about my job. "And the smell of alcohol on you, Elizabeth, you cant be confused." My mother said and started crying again.
I quickly helped her sit down, "Mom, where are you going? The money for the childs treatment must be given by his father."
At that time, I told my mother that I had broken up with Charlies father, so I gave birth to the child alone. The unmarried pregnancy made my mother unable to raise her head in the village. No matter how much money I gave them, it couldnt erase the shame they were pointed at.
"But the child is like this, and he doesnt even come to see him?" My mother finally believed a bit.
"We have broken up. Its already very kind of him to contribute money," I said.
"You are such a hard-working child," my mother hugged me, wanting to cry but not daring to cry out loud, her body convulsing with sobs.
Wasnt I hard-working? When I just graduated from university, I, like every college student, looked forward to a bright future. But my father fell ill, and I knelt in front of the boss with my diploma and ID card, and since then, I have been on a road of no return.
I waited until it was almost light outside, and the door to the emergency room opened.
The doctor, looking tired, took off his mask: "Family members of Charlie Bucket."
I quickly stood up, almost falling over because of the numbness in my legs from sitting for so long, and rushed to the doctor: "I am Charlies mother."
"The child almost didnt make it. What kind of parents are you?" The doctor frowned at me.
Although I had changed into casual clothes, the smell of alcohol on me was still unbearable, which probably made the doctor quite averse to me.
"The child has been pulled out of danger for now," the doctor said, frowning at me. "Go and complete the hospitalization procedures."
We followed the nurse to finish the hospital admission procedures, and it was already half past ten. Both of us, having not slept all night, were very tired. Especially my mother, who had been blaming herself, now had swollen eyes and a pale face.
"Mom, you rest here for a while, Ill go buy some breakfast," I said.
It was past the time for just breakfast; it was a combined meal of breakfast and lunch.
"Elizabeth, its all my fault, I didnt take good care of Charlie..." My mother was still full of self-reproach.
"Mom, its not your fault. Which child doesnt get sick when they are young?" I comforted her, but I was even more self-blaming than her. I had returned to work at The Imperial Joy just a month after giving birth, coming home every day drunk, and not even really seeing what my child looked like. My mother, who had never seen a subway in her life, had to endure the unfamiliar citys unease and fear, and also take care of me and the child. What qualifications did I have to blame her?
Every time I brought home a thick stack of money, I could find some comfort in my heart. I kept telling myself that all of this was worth it, at least to provide a better life for my mother and Charlie.
When we arrived at the hospital, it was almost dawn. Charlie was rushed into the emergency room, and my mother and I stood outside, both crying uncontrollably.
"Mom, its okay, everything will be okay," I wiped my mothers tears for her. She recognized the letters ICU and looked terrified when she saw them.
Because my father was pushed in here and never came out alive.
"Its going to cost a lot of money. Do you still have money?"
"I have it, Mom, I still have money," I couldnt help but cry, holding my mother. Besides money, I couldnt give them anything else.
"Your money didnt come from the wind. You took so much two years ago to treat your fathers illness. How can you still have it now?" My mother pulled me away, questioning seriously.
Although she didnt have much education, she was very meticulous. I couldnt let her find out about my job. "And the smell of alcohol on you, Elizabeth, you cant be confused." My mother said and started crying again.
I quickly helped her sit down, "Mom, where are you going? The money for the childs treatment must be given by his father."
At that time, I told my mother that I had broken up with Charlies father, so I gave birth to the child alone. The unmarried pregnancy made my mother unable to raise her head in the village. No matter how much money I gave them, it couldnt erase the shame they were pointed at.
"But the child is like this, and he doesnt even come to see him?" My mother finally believed a bit.
"We have broken up. Its already very kind of him to contribute money," I said.
"You are such a hard-working child," my mother hugged me, wanting to cry but not daring to cry out loud, her body convulsing with sobs.
Wasnt I hard-working? When I just graduated from university, I, like every college student, looked forward to a bright future. But my father fell ill, and I knelt in front of the boss with my diploma and ID card, and since then, I have been on a road of no return.
I waited until it was almost light outside, and the door to the emergency room opened.
The doctor, looking tired, took off his mask: "Family members of Charlie Bucket."
I quickly stood up, almost falling over because of the numbness in my legs from sitting for so long, and rushed to the doctor: "I am Charlies mother."
"The child almost didnt make it. What kind of parents are you?" The doctor frowned at me.
Although I had changed into casual clothes, the smell of alcohol on me was still unbearable, which probably made the doctor quite averse to me.
"The child has been pulled out of danger for now," the doctor said, frowning at me. "Go and complete the hospitalization procedures."
We followed the nurse to finish the hospital admission procedures, and it was already half past ten. Both of us, having not slept all night, were very tired. Especially my mother, who had been blaming herself, now had swollen eyes and a pale face.
"Mom, you rest here for a while, Ill go buy some breakfast," I said.
It was past the time for just breakfast; it was a combined meal of breakfast and lunch.
"Elizabeth, its all my fault, I didnt take good care of Charlie..." My mother was still full of self-reproach.
"Mom, its not your fault. Which child doesnt get sick when they are young?" I comforted her, but I was even more self-blaming than