Chemo is something I’d never wish on anyone, yet I asked my mum to go through it.
The first time, she faced it with so much heart and hope. She believed—just as we all did—that she would get better, that she would be given another chance by God.
She was so brave, never complaining, not even when she lost her hair. I still remember how she showed me her “new look,” making jokes about it, saying, “This will always look nice!” But I knew the truth—she cried when her friend cut her hair.
I had a feeling she felt ashamed. She never let anyone see her without her little hat. Once, she told me my dad couldn’t bear to look at her, but I knew that wasn’t true. The truth was, she couldn’t bear the weight of his eyes on her.