“What do you mean doctor?” Dad? He sighs deeply.
“She barely has months if not weeks to live. It keeps growing bigger and soon she won't be able to survive on just the medications…”
“Doctor please help my baby. She's all I got.” Mom cuts in crying.
“The only way to help her is through operating. We have to take our chances with it. It’s a fifty-fifty thin thread. I understand she's scared but there’s always a possibility she’ll survive.”
Dad sighs comforting mom who sob on his shoulders. I frown facing out the window. I just have months left. How many? One? Two? Or maybe it's weeks. I sniff wiping an escape tear away. Feeling the urge to scream out my anger, I close my eyes clasping my mouth with both hands, I sob. I sob my pains out, bone shaking sob left me whimpering in silence. Why
