Breast Cancer test results for my disabled mother was
yesterday, August 7, the birthday of her late husband. It took time to do
paperwork and secure documents from one office to another to get my mother to
breast surgery on the 9th floor of Lincoln Hospital.
An African-American doctor with two young medical
assistants, one white and the other Asian, had me translate instructions to my
mother. The door closed as she undressed.
In the empty waiting room, I stared out into space.
Then I realized the hospital personnel I met with were all
females. “Beautiful intelligent women make me feel like I’m on Amazon Island,”
I said, amazed. They were delighted with the compliment, as I was relieved that
my mother was okay.
Like a child, my mom hugged the African-American doctor who
hugged her back.
One of the doctors sighed when I said,” She came to this
country with her older sister and worked in a pen and pencil factory. She drew
my first smile.”
It’s the end and the beginning of a true life Great American
Novel.
It was a beautiful day in The South Bronx.
Perfect skies.
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