That night, I couldn’t sleep. The room was quiet, but my mind was not. Every sound from the machines felt louder, every second felt heavier. I kept looking at my phone… at the last message from my daughter:“Good night, Mom. I love you.” My hands were shaking when I opened the message I had been avoiding. It was from the doctor. He had spoken to me earlier that day, but not in front of my family. He said there was one more option. Not a promise… not a cure. Just a chance. A surgery. A risky one. He told me...
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