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Deep Sigh
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2024-10-29 19:42:56~Cali~
If there was something trivial with me and my sister, apart from being stubborn, it’s that we both hate the scent of the hospital. Even the mere sight of it repulses me. Not because I hate the people working in scrubs and lab gowns, but because of the memories it’s pulling from the lockup of my brain.
When I was eight years old, Dad and I were in and out - or should I say we live in a hospital. Mom was diagnosed with stage four liver cancer. My young mind couldn’t comprehend what lymph nodes, malignant and metastasize meant. All I know is that Mom won’t make it home for my birthday and for Christmas that year, and she never did. Even in the following year and the year after that because she died.
The cancer beat her, that’s how Dad explained it to me. I hated cancer, and I hated
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