It was late at night when the nurse informed us that I could leave. We stalked out of the hospital room, past empty rooms, past people working night shifts in the emptiness where the only sounds are the ringing in your ears and the soft hum of the yellow ceiling lights. The dimly lit halls were lined with shades of beige that were vaguely familiar yet vastly unwelcoming, and the heating did nothing against the sharp prick of the cold night air enveloping us like a venus flytrap swallows its prey. We got lost multiple times in the elaborate labyrinth, the intricate puzzle that could deceive the senses of even the best navigators, let alone us few. The winding, liminal walkway we walked down eventually opened up into a grand, colorful atrium, a large window up top with all the floors stacked up like chairs beneath it, each one just as confusing as the one we just navigated. The dark black vastness of night shone down through the skylight, down all the floors, right on us, drowning out the spectrum of colors as if it was menacingly whispering to us in a cold, creaky voice that nobody else could hear, “you’re not welcome here”. It made the place feel emptier than it already was. At the pharmacy, my parents took forever to fetch the supplies. I sat in a dated cloth chair that had a nostalgic, smoky odor reminiscient of an old, musty motel room littered with used cigarettes, pondering how to alleviate my intense, insatiable boredom. If only time could actually fly rather than dragging itself disobediently like a young, stubborn child, deliberately going as slowly as possible just to get on my nerves. Looking around, I noticed overhead screens displaying the names of different patients and how many prescriptions they each had. I smiled. Finally finding a source of entertainment, I curiously observed as the TV jumped from screen to screen, noticing how nobody else had as many as me. Me and the 9 or 10 different things I needed. It was in that moment that a calming sensation went through me. Yes, I would have this condition for the rest of my life, and yes, jabbing myself with needles every day to keep it at bay would hurt, but that didn’t matter. I would be a warrior, looming tall. Standing my ground, strong, brave, and noble, against my previously deathly fear of sharp objects. The scoreboard was 1-0, but I was going to make sure the 1 remained a 1 while the 0 soared higher and higher. Because among my newly diagnosed XXX and I, only one could win, and it was going to be me. Because I didn’t have to live with this parasite for the rest of my life; it had to live with me for the rest of its life. The scoreboard was 1-1.
一方面心疼孩子，一方面也欣慰孩子的成长和勇气，感觉很复杂。就在一年前，他写作文还如难产，憋个半天写出来的东西让我总是想拍案而起，给气的。这学期一开学不知道怎么回事，突然在写作方面突飞猛进，作文连连满分不说，自己还花十来分钟就写了个参加New York Times 写作比赛的短文，老师也赞写的不错。
下面是他的作文，我把一些细节抹掉了。孩子说他故意写了有语法错误的句子，是模仿最近看的一本什么小说的风格。也许写得还不算成熟，但已经算是不小的进步了。。
It was late at night when the nurse informed us that I could leave. We stalked out of the
hospital room, past empty rooms, past people working night shifts in the emptiness where the
only sounds are the ringing in your ears and the soft hum of the yellow ceiling lights. The dimly
lit halls were lined with shades of beige that were vaguely familiar yet vastly unwelcoming, and
the heating did nothing against the sharp prick of the cold night air enveloping us like a venus
flytrap swallows its prey. We got lost multiple times in the elaborate labyrinth, the intricate
puzzle that could deceive the senses of even the best navigators, let alone us few.
The winding, liminal walkway we walked down eventually opened up into a grand,
colorful atrium, a large window up top with all the floors stacked up like chairs beneath it, each
one just as confusing as the one we just navigated. The dark black vastness of night shone down
through the skylight, down all the floors, right on us, drowning out the spectrum of colors as if it
was menacingly whispering to us in a cold, creaky voice that nobody else could hear, “you’re not
welcome here”. It made the place feel emptier than it already was.
At the pharmacy, my parents took forever to fetch the supplies. I sat in a dated cloth chair
that had a nostalgic, smoky odor reminiscient of an old, musty motel room littered with used
cigarettes, pondering how to alleviate my intense, insatiable boredom. If only time could actually
fly rather than dragging itself disobediently like a young, stubborn child, deliberately going as
slowly as possible just to get on my nerves. Looking around, I noticed overhead screens
displaying the names of different patients and how many prescriptions they each had. I smiled.
Finally finding a source of entertainment, I curiously observed as the TV jumped from screen to
screen, noticing how nobody else had as many as me. Me and the 9 or 10 different things I
needed.
It was in that moment that a calming sensation went through me. Yes, I would have this
condition for the rest of my life, and yes, jabbing myself with needles every day to keep it at bay
would hurt, but that didn’t matter. I would be a warrior, looming tall. Standing my ground,
strong, brave, and noble, against my previously deathly fear of sharp objects. The scoreboard
was 1-0, but I was going to make sure the 1 remained a 1 while the 0 soared higher and higher.
Because among my newly diagnosed XXX and I, only one could win, and it was going to be
me. Because I didn’t have to live with this parasite for the rest of my life; it had to live with me
for the rest of its life.
The scoreboard was 1-1.
这水平，再加上这个经历，可以写本Bestseller了
New York Times，Science News，National Geography 之类，后来也不看了。我也是理工科背景，写作方面帮不了他多少。
到目前为止孩子自己控制的还不错。他都能那么从容面对，我当妈的没理由不坚强。
我记得你提到儿子的事，有个健康的孩子真的是天大的福气。孩子好坚强，会越来越好的。
和她说，没那么夸张吧。她说。well,that's how you get an A. 一下子，我就不难过了.
become toxic and slowly drain your life away.
擦干眼泪，我说娃，咱下次写点欢快幽默的行不？娃说有难度。他平时就是个不苟言笑的性子，确实有点难为他了。