The pain-relieving morphine injection made me sad and happy, and my father also went to heaven under its care

Oops, oops, oops...

I sat down next to my father, counting his intermittent moans one by one, and his every moan was so weak, so tired.

This was the third time I had taken a leave of absence to go home with him, and looking at my father, who was motionless in his hospital bed, my heartache could not be described in words.

Father lay flat on a narrow wooden bed like a zombie, he could neither eat nor speak, and he did not even know us as children, except for shaking his head, and my father and I did not have any eye contact. The strangeness that was close to the end of the world made me understand that my father's time was running out.

The first time I went back to my hometown to visit my sick father, he could still do some housework as much as he could, going to the vegetable garden every morning and evening to play around, bringing back some vegetables and fruits every time, and at noon he was busy sneaking to the old people in the village to play cards together.

Companionship is the longest confession of affection. Maybe it was because our three brothers and sisters all went home together, so that the big house, which was originally guarded only by my father and mother, suddenly became lively. Every morning and dusk, my father can see several of our children around him, and the companionship of his children and grandchildren around his knees makes my father feel happy. This time, my father's illness miraculously healed.

Poor parents in the world! When my father's pain was better, he urged us to rush back to work. He was distressed that we took leave of absence to stay at home with him, no income, affecting life.

Loyalty and filial piety are difficult to complete. Suffering from livelihood, we can only bear to give up the filial piety owed to our parents. In the midst of my father's thousands of dings, the three of us brothers and sisters hurriedly set foot on the road to other places.

When I got another call from my cousin at home, he said that my father was in the advanced stage of lung cancer and was hospitalized in the hospital. The stubborn father was not afraid of the danger of coughing and vomiting blood, and he strongly refused to cooperate with the hospital for treatment, pulled out his own needles, quarreled with the doctor, and he tried everything he could to avoid accepting the doctor's scientific treatment.

Perhaps at that time, he already knew his physical condition and was afraid that the loss of our wealth would not be worth the loss. At his father's insistence, the hospital had to ask his father to write an accident-borne agreement before letting him go home.

When we rushed home for the second time, my father's appearance was not as good as before, and the amount of food was much less than before. At this time, the father not only vomited blood, but also began to bleed in the stool.

When the doctor's cousin suggested that we should not go out, temporarily put down the work in hand, accompany the old father at home, saying that he may only have 1 to 2 months at most, if the hemostatic Chinese medicine does not work, it can only arrange the aftermath.

While drinking Chinese medicine, my father continued to cough up blood in the stool, and occasionally gave one or two ordinary painkillers, and finally even ordinary painkillers could not relieve the pain.

Therefore, on the advice of the doctor, several of our brothers and sisters decided to use morphine injections to alleviate my father's pain. According to the regulations of the hospital, each cancer patient, with a medical record and ID card, can take two injections at a time, and after use, they must take back the empty bottle to the hospital to take the next morphine injection. Because morphine injections are drugs strictly regulated by the state.

At the beginning, morphine injections were still very helpful to my father, one injection a day can relieve pain, when it is not painful, he will be like a normal person, still eating, drinking and having fun, still playing cards.

Because of the convenient morphine injections, we left the eldest brother alone to take care of my father at home. Every day, several of our brothers and sisters would contact him by phone to inquire about his father's physical condition.

This morphine injection was used for less than half a month, and my father's condition became more and more serious, and he needed morphine injections to relieve pain during the day, and if he did not have the injection, he would cry and groan, listening to people's hearts.

Looking at my father, whose pain was getting worse, we could only respect his opinion and treat him with a morphine injection every morning and evening. Every time morphine's pain relief effect passed, my father would ask us to urge the doctor to give him an injection. At this time, my father's desire to survive was still very large, and he only wanted to cure his illness in order to take care of and accompany his lover my mother.

I remember the second time I came home, when my father was taking ordinary painkiller injections, I once supported him, and when the doctor's needle was draining the medicine, I obviously felt his father's body trembling, and his whole body was pressed heavily against my chest. The needle hit my father's body, but it hurt my heart.

When the morning and evening morphine injections still could not relieve the pain, my father knew that he did not have much time, and began to tell my eldest brother every day, and arranged for his posthumous affairs, so that the three of us brothers and sisters must take good care of the elderly mother.

In order to make my father wait for me and the second brother's family to go back to see my father for the last time, the eldest brother went to the hospital to buy morphine tablets for my father. Perhaps the limits of life's reincarnation had arrived, and after a few days of eating, my father had begun to reject morphine injections and morphine tablets, lying quietly in bed every day without saying a word.

When I rushed home for the third time, my father was only a faint moan, and I accompanied him in bed during the day, massaging his hands, massaging his face, and calling him softly in his ear, but my father did not respond to me at all, and occasionally for a moment, I would see tears slipping from the corner of my father's left eye.

At night, I sat at my father's feet, trying to give him a little comfort with the warmth of my body, and I caressed my father's leg with my hand, the skinny thigh, which was not as thick as my arm, had almost no muscle, and only some crumpled skin remained.

Occasionally, my father's leg would move a little, maybe it was my force that hurt him a little, and he would move slightly.

Illness came like a mountain. It was once these strong feet that allowed my skinny father to pick up the burden of our whole family and give me a happy life. And now this pair of skin-covered and bone-covered feet, it will always be a pain in my heart.

You raise me small, I raise you old. My father devoted his life to raising me, but I spent only three days with him in his last moments of death.

I held my father's left hand, my nephew held my father's right hand, and he left me at the last moment when the whole family surrounded him without saying a word...

The Son wants to raise and does not wait. As Teacher Long Yingtai said: All love in the world is for the sake of getting together, and only the love of parents is for separation.

Although my father has left me, I feel that his love has always been there, perhaps, but he has changed his way to love me.

Wait until I have time, wait until I make money, wait until I am busy for a while, everything in the world can wait, only filial piety can not wait.

Parents are here, life still has a place to come, parents go, life is only the way home.

If you don't want filial piety to your parents to become a regret in your life, please remember to go home often.