There was a young lady who was in a hospital, in the same room at the time my mother was there. She had lymphoma like my mother had. They were in the same room for three days. After those time, they met at the follow-up clinic from time to time.
This lady, she lives in a very rural area in Chiang Mai. She lives on the mountain with her husband and 2 year-old daughter. Absolutely, she is very poor.
Before my mother died, she asked me to give some money to this lady. My brother and I did it. We gave the money to the doctor in the clinic because he would meet the lady every month.
Several months after my mother died when I was in Thailand. I got a phone call from the doctor who took care of my mother and that lady. He told me that he gave the money to the lady already.
Couple days after that, I got another phone call from the lady. I remembered my feeling at the moment I knew It was a call from her. I was very happy to hear that she was fine. But she let me be with that happy moment just a few second. She told me the cancer came back again. So the radiation therapy was not working.
After that day I always got a phone call from her almost every couple weeks because she had to come to the hospital in Chiang Mai for blood treatment. I went to the hospital when I could clear my schedule and had some free time.
Yesterday I went to meet her again. It was the first time that she told me she just got a sore throat. We knew that was not a good sign.
Yesterday, she asked me “Was it hurt, when your mother was dying?”
“umm, yes. It was really hurt. But at least she got some medication to relieve her pain.” I asked after I had tried to avoid the direct answer but I couldn’t.
We had a talk about ten or twenty minutes. Then I left when a nurse brought a lunch tray to her.
Today I went to the hospital again. I wanted to visit her and cheer her up. I got to the hospital in the afternoon. A nurse behind the counter told me that lady already left. She went back home because she couldn’t stand staying in the hospital anymore. The nurse told me she said she miss her daughter badly. Her husband rode a bike from the mountain to pick her up and rode back together. It took about 8 hours round trip.
I said thank you to the nurse and turned back, walked back to the hallway. Before I reached the door at the ward my tear came out.
There’s nothing to do with the picture of my motorcycle. It is just the picture that I took today. The day that I want to remember that I found that there always are people who fights for their lives.