Chapter 3 2004/11/23 on

My master's class was sociology, and the first novel "Fear Bomb" also implied sociological meaning, which was the original purpose of writing the series.The story of Fear Bomb is about the importance of symbols to the operation of the world, so I arranged for a college student to wake up in the morning and find himself in a world with unclear semantics. Blocks, signboards, books, currency, TV, all are disordered images.Then college students are on the verge of self-dividing madness. The time and space conditions of the story are set up in this way because the fastest way to understand the importance of something is to "take it out" and make it non-existent.If a thing does not exist, you will find that the orbit of the world is gradually deviating, or it is seriously out of balance, and you will realize the significance of that thing to your own existence through a kind of confusion.

If this is the purpose of making my mother suffer from severe illness, I can only say that this is too much. Damn it's important, there's no need for any supporting proof at all. It is now 2:35 in the afternoon, the second day after Mom entered the hospital. In the morning I came to take over from my younger brother, and brought my mother's bucket and a small Buddha statue for bathing.Many relatives came, the third uncle, the third aunt, the couple of the third aunt, and my brother's future husband and wife. I think this is a very common climax of seeing a doctor.Once the number of white blood cells drops sharply and the immune system weakens after the mother undergoes chemotherapy, it is time to start an eviction order to protect the mother.

I watched my mother keep explaining her condition to relatives, repeatedly emphasizing her psychological preparation, and comforting the visiting relatives one by one.Mom was strong, and I prayed to myself that my weak genes were the necessary mutations "in order to be an emotional writer." Relatives come and go, and now I am alone. In the afternoon, Mom received a call from Dad, and began to point out where the things in Dad's house were placed, and where some medicines were on the shelves. The words were written in such a detailed manner that one could easily imagine Dad's bewildered expression on the other end of the phone.

Dad is a man who is very dependent on Mom.So my dad doesn't know how to cook and wash dishes, doesn't know how to wash and iron clothes, and doesn't know how to clean up. When my back hurts in the middle of the night, my mother needs to beat and massage, and often asks for supper before going to bed.Standard, happy Taiwanese men of the previous generation.Our family has no money, and we have been carrying a debt for more than 20 years, but my father is doing well, because my mother manages the balance sheet for him, and even bought a new SUV last year. "Have you taken the medicine before and after dinner at night...Ginger mother tea powder is placed in the back of the glass cabinet where we make coffee...I copied the phone number..." Mom was on the hospital bed, still monitoring Dad from afar life.

In addition to life, my father's dependence on my mother is also the business of the pharmacy. The family runs a pharmacy, and my mother's help with the business of the pharmacy far exceeds the imagination of ordinary people.My mother is very hardworking, and I often see her holding a super heavy medicine book to look up information, relying on the professional knowledge of a nurse in the past to constantly add the latest medicine uses, and will ask me to go to the Internet to help her find a few keywords. What's the meaning.Even though I am getting older and wearing reading glasses, it is still the same as usual.

So even though many guests, neighbors, and relatives, when something goes wrong, they like to ask their mother what to do and which hospital to go to.Mom seems to be the most respected celebrity in the community, and the pharmacy has also become an information transfer point for nearby people, and all kinds of boring gossip will come to them automatically. "Mom, I dare say that if you come out to elect the district chief, you will definitely be elected!" I once mentioned. "That's right, that's right." Mom didn't take it seriously.For her, taking care of her family is the only thing that matters.

The nurse brought many pamphlets about chemotherapy, which included side effects after chemotherapy, such as vomiting, dizziness, hair loss, and tooth loss, as well as logical mistakes if the chemical agent leaked out of the blood vessels.In short, the content is full of intimidation (laughs). Mom sat up and read these threatening pamphlets with me. I saw that drinking lemonade or ginger slices would help relieve the subsequent vomiting, so I hurriedly called Dad to deliver it later. "Don't be afraid." Mom is very concerned that I am very scared, because I can't hide any emotions.

"But I'm really afraid of the pain. When I think that I'm the only one here when you're undergoing chemotherapy, I panic." I confessed and kept rubbing the soles of my mother's feet. Then Mom turned around and kept telling me that I really deserved to be the worst caregiver. I was barely relieved until my brother called and said that he would return to Changhua after the interview at ITRI in the afternoon.Brother, it is very reliable. In my imagination, I can't bear the picture of cancer patients throwing up and crying in pain after receiving chemotherapy.I really hope that the TV is bluffing people.

The nurse came over and administered sedatives and anti-stuns to mom, then set up the machine and began injecting chemical agents for 24 hours. Tomorrow or the day after tomorrow, an artificial blood vessel may be buried near mom's collarbone to facilitate the administration of drugs in the future.The nurse and my mother discussed the necessity of this artificial blood vessel, and my mother said in a very happy and firm tone: "It doesn't matter, as long as it helps my condition, I will do my best to cooperate, because I have decided to fight." Then Mom started talking about our three brothers again.It has always been the same, starting from my brother studying for a doctorate, going to the Industrial Technology Research Institute to interview the National Defense Forces to show off today, then me, emphasizing that although I am very unreliable, I am very good at writing novels (what a mysterious connection), and finally my brother, who is doing I am studying at the Graduate School of Normal University, and I will come back to Zhang'an Junior High School for an internship next year.Then he emphasized that the three sons were about to take the thesis oral exam and graduate.

"So I must get better," Ma said easily. Yeah I'll just say my explosive confidence has its place. The sedative took effect, and Ma began to feel a little hazy.I said that I had posted the story about my mother on the Internet simultaneously, and my mother asked a few words curiously, and I said that everyone thought it was touching, and I would print out the manuscript for her to read when I had a chance to return home. Ma gradually fell asleep, her mouth slightly opened. I moistened Mom's lips with a damp cotton swab.Quite touched. When I was young, I was sick and had a fever, and I vomited when I ate anything. My mother would secretly give us an IV at home, because drinking too much water would cause nausea, and our lips were chapped. My mother would wet a cotton swab and put it in my mouth for us to suck. , and wipe lips.Until the year before last when I was hospitalized because of hernia, my mother still moistened a cotton swab with warm water and put it in my mouth.

But it wasn't until late last night that I suddenly remembered that we didn't bring cotton swabs to the hospital.Before going out in the morning, I asked my grandma to take a bag of cotton swabs. Mom is the most careful. Or, mother's love is always the most.