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Her breathing was not so good
She tersely informed her mother one day
Pressure. Chest pressure. Solemn gasps
Foreboding, unsatisfying attempts at breaths
Tepid, non-nourishing bits of air filling her decrepit lungs
As rotten lungs tried to accept healing ambient gases
It was alas to no avail
Daughter, newly graduated from college, bent down to search and pray for strength
Not for herself, but for her petrified mother
Rushed to the Emergency Department
In a fleet of worry and pangs of remorse
All the mother-daughter moments of the past twenty years flashing back
Mother reached out to her daughter's cold, tremulous hand
Interlocking their pinky fingers just as they always had
In moments of impending crisis
As the waiting area itself seemed to crush her every breath,
Her breathing took to peril
And created a small panic that day
A swath of doctors in turn boldly came to her rescue
While needles of change drained foreign fluid
And the tube was inserted into her unsuspecting chest
As she blacked out, she was whispering "Mother, I pray for you"
While recovering in the ICU
With the beeps and rumblings of important machines filling the background
Her breaths insidiously came back to her
Just in time for the news
The bad news
Cytology was sent. Bad news. It's malignancy. My Daughter, it's cancer.
Her tears were swift but understated
Her mouth dried out and five frogs in her throat sat
Her movements paralyzed by this awful news
One of these tears, all from her mother, dripped onto her daughter's leg
And when mother reached to wipe off that vagrant tear,
It was the young daughter, tearless and tender, who this time, reached out her hand,
Interlocking their pinky fingers
And held on tighter than ever before