When I got there, Mom was resting on the couch, watching TV. She looked worn out, but her eyes brightened as soon as she saw me.
“How are you feeling?” I asked as I stepped closer.
“Not too bad. I’m managing,” Mom said with a weak smile.
“I brought you some groceries,” I said, placing the bag on the floor. “I got your favorite tea and some fresh fruit.”
“Thank you, honey,” Mom said, but her face grew serious. “Why haven’t you been visiting me? Samira said you didn’t want to because I’d become a burden.”
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. “She said what?!” I was outraged. “I didn’t come because Samira wouldn’t let me. She always had an excuse. As soon as I had the chance, I came,” I said.
“I see,” Mom replied.
“How is it with Samira? Does she help?” I asked.
“Yes, yes. She’s by my side almost all the time. She cooks, cleans, and brings me medicine,” Mom said. “I think my illness has changed her for the better,” she added.
“Yeah, right,” I muttered under my breath. “And do you have enough money?” I asked, trying to change the subject.
“For now, yes, although Samira spends a lot. I’m afraid we won’t have enough for the medicine soon,” Mom said, her voice filled with concern.
“Don’t worry about that. I’ll talk to the doctor and take care of everything,” I said firmly.
“Alright, thank you,” Mom said with a tired smile.
I stayed with her a little while longer, chatting about simple things. I didn’t want to leave, but Mom said she was tired and ready for bed. I carefully helped her to her room, supporting her as we went.
“Nicole,” Mom softly said when she lay down. “I’ve lived a long life, and I understand everything.”
I simply nodded, even though her words didn’t quite add up to me—I figured she was just exhausted.
After putting away the groceries, I slipped out quietly. But I didn’t head home—I couldn’t. Instead, I drove straight to the hospital.
I knocked on Dr. Miller’s office door, and after hearing, “Come in!” I entered.
“Hello, I’m the daughter of one of your patients, Martha…”
“Oh, you must be Nicole,” said Dr. Miller, not even letting me finish Mom’s full name. “Have a seat. Martha talked a lot about you.”
I sat down across from Dr. Miller. “I want to talk about Mom’s treatment. From now on, send all the bills to me, for anything,” I said.
“I thought Samira was paying for everything,” Dr. Miller said, his eyebrows raised.
“Yes, with Mom’s money, but she spends a lot too. I don’t want Mom worrying about finances,” I said.
“Alright, we can arrange that,” Dr. Miller said with a nod.
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