A nurse for nearly twenty-five years, my mother is currently the weekend supervisor at TIRR hospital in the Houston medical center. But for the last twelve years, she has additionally cared for two exceptional patients. Her mother battled multiple myeloma cancer for nearly a decade; my mom held her mother’s frail hand through every medical appointment, whether it was a blood transfusion, bone marrow transplant or chemotherapy treatment.
Only two months before enduring the grief of her mother’s death, her father suffered a stroke. The frightful night an ambulance rushed him to the hospital, the day cancer took my grandmother, during every occupational, speech and physical therapy session, and even now as he is beginning to walk, she had been by his side.
Despite working long weekend hours and regularly driving forty-five minutes to and from my grandfather’s house, my mom cheered at every swim meet, excitedly assisted me before school dances and still answers the phone at any hour when I need comforting. While perpetually existing ten minutes behind schedule and maybe not the best with cooking, cleaning or laundry, my mother is nonetheless the best exemplar I could ask for. She has a perfect heart of unconditional love.
