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Understand This; It’s the Little Things That Make Life
About a few years ago, my mother got very sick. She started feeling very nauseous, and suddenly her body showed signs of something very wrong by having a high fever. These were the first signs. Shortly afterward, all these symptoms became visible, with a substantial purple spot all over her leg.
If we had not immediately rushed to the doctor, she could no longer be here. My mother had, and has forever, a bacteria that must have entered her through a wounded nail and settled permanently in her body.
Had it continued up her leg and reached her organs, she could have her leg amputated or died. Fortunately, she started treatment. She was admitted to the hospital, taking daily injections.
But because she is allergic to penicillin, the treatment was much longer and more painful.
All that time she was in the hospital, my father kept working, but when he got off work, he went home and started painting their room orange, her favorite color.
There I remember seeing him, tired, at night, with the spotlights turned to the ceiling, patiently painting the bedroom walls.
“Your mother likes this color. When she comes, she will be delighted,” he said.
