I was in the middle of a daydream when my mom called: "The biopsy report from last time came back. It's stage two breast cancer. If I have to do chemotherapy later, will you come with me?" "Okay, let me know when you're going." That's all I said, because I wanted to burst into tears right then.
Pam Pam fell into a panic, feeling that without a breast and a uterus, her mother seemed to be disappearing piece by piece... Yet, her wayward and difficult mother didn't take the cancer seriously, facing it as casually as if an old friend had arrived. Who was less healthy?
"Q10. Do you want to commit suicide? 'Fill in 'very much so' for me on this question.' Pam Pam told her mother, who was filling out the health survey form."
Still like a baby, Pam Pam tried hard to prove at this moment that she was the child who deserved to be loved. However, she cleaned the IV tube 100 times, but it still couldn't compare to the one time her never-present brother cleaned it.
As always, he repeatedly said the same thing: "I can't that day, I have something else to do~" "Damn it! Do I have nothing to do?"
Anxiety, resentment, getting lost in memories, fear of the future, Pam Pam, hidden under the "super great filial daughter's bedsheet," described how the outbreak of illness often reveals not just health problems, but also family problems.
"If Mom tried hard to make Grandma happy to prove herself... unconsciously, I inherited Mom's goal → to prove my own existence."
