I remember that year, my mother was still alive, and I found that my father was sitting alone on the couch for longer and longer. My mother and I talked about this privately several times, always afraid that there was a problem with his health, and even thought of Alzheimer's disease, but I thought that my father was not more than sixty years old, not yet so.
In the autumn, the father suddenly felt that a bag grew in the mouth, some hindered the meal, to the hospital to check, the doctor suggested to do slices, the result was a tumor, malignant! When I rushed home from out of town, I saw my mother secretly wiping away tears from my father's back, which was like five thunderbolts.
Forced to endure to see his father on the hospital bed, only to see that his cheeks were unusually thin, his eyes were wet and unfocused, his lips were thin and weak, his face was decadent, his face was helpless, and there was a hint of panic and a hint of doubt between his expressions. As I held his hand, a heartbreaking tear hung secretly out of the corner of his eye.
Where is my father, who does not smile, but always seems to be calm and relaxed!
That night, the eldest brother took the suitcase containing the tumor cell slices and drove to Wuhan alone, not believing that the hospital in Jingmen, which was regarded as an authority, was really qualified to determine the nature of the cell on his father's body. The next day, I was persuaded by my mother to rush back to Xiangfan to work.
When the train arrived in Xiangfan, I walked out of the train station in a gray mood, just in time to receive the big brother's Wuhan long-distance: "It is benign, Jingmen's mistake, you can rest assured to go to work!" At that time, XiangfanQiu was high and refreshing, and the sun burned so that I could not open my eyes, and the brilliant was the same as my mood. A few days later, I knew it was Big Brother's white lie. Now I think of it, just as I walked to the station square to accept the autumn sun bath, the eldest brother stood at the gate of Wuhan Tongji Hospital, calm and calm, depressed and depressed, and then, picked up the phone and dialed my number, then the world in his eyes should be a haze without sunlight.
My sick father had just turned sixty. My father was born in the countryside of Xiantao, Hubei Province, the youngest child in the family, and my grandfather died before he was an adult. His father studied medicine and served as a soldier, and after changing careers, he supported four children by working as a fitter to go to high school and college. My father was a worker, and no matter how hard he worked in the factory, the wages were also dead, dozens of yuan a month, but everything had to be bought. So after work, my father, like his grandfather who was a farmer, carried a shovel and a hoe, went to the ditches and hillsides to cultivate land, and went to public toilets and sewers to pick up manure and fertilizer. My father's lean body planted vegetables and hoes at noon in the summer, and carried water and dung up the mountain at sunset and dusk, when the summer steamed, in my eyes at that time, my father was never tireless. My father's vegetable patch was green until my second brother went to work and until I graduated from college. Today, the vegetable patch is full of trees and grass, but I will never forget wearing cuffs and necklines, almost faded blue overalls, and the back of my lean and stubborn father.
When I went home to see my father again, it was a week later, and the day after my eldest brother rushed back from Wuhan to Jingmen, he arranged for my father to have surgery. The father in the hospital bed had not eaten rice for nearly a week, relying on a syringe for twenty-four hours to deliver nutrition and medicine, and the sores on his palate were unbearable, but it was impossible to even moan.
He lay weakly, like a feather attached to a hospital bed. I immediately began to massage my father, but I was a masseuse, nothing more than imitating the fancy techniques in the beauty salon to make him feel more comfortable. I was my father's only amiable child, the eldest sister and two older brothers always respected his father because of his serious appearance, and of the four children, only I dared to walk with my father's arm, and only I dared to lie on him. I remember the first time my hand was inserted into the crook of his arm, his arm froze for a moment, and then it was very gently attached to my arm. Father also enjoyed my massage, my fingers throbbing on the top of his head and limbs, trying to meet it with a single breath with each press.
Then I washed my father's hair and bathed, and for the first time after the operation, my father appeared energetic. After that is chemotherapy, chemotherapy! Every weekend, when I showed up at my father's bedside, his face was thinner than the previous weekend. But I couldn't help him, I could only watch, watch powerlessly, until I couldn't bear to look again!
My father finally survived, and when my father walked out of the hospital gate with a staggering step, at that moment, for the first time in my life, I sincerely thanked God.
Now, I remember my father in the hospital bed and think of the New Year's Festival, our family chatting and laughing under the lamp, as if all the misfortunes had never happened. I suddenly felt that I had thanked the wrong person, that my father, who had exhausted his energy for his children and was almost dry, had overcome the disease with his weak body, so that his sad and helpless child had not lost the love of his father after losing his mother's care; and after bearing the pain of losing his mother's cone, he had not yet suffered the pain and misfortune of losing his father. It was my father who overcame the disease, what does this have to do with God? It is the father's perseverance that redeems the hearts of his children, and what does this have to do with God?
I should thank my father for overcoming the disease and still being my father in good health!