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墨書 Inktalez
I wearily closed my eyes, tears silently streaming down my cheeks. This was a victory, but it was not the end.
During the child's treatment, Mao Yixuan underwent a tremendous transformation. The once calm and rational business elite became gentle and resolute.
One day, I saw him clumsily changing the child's diaper, getting himself covered in mess, yet he complained not at all. He simply smiled at me and said, "Our little one is getting stronger."
I looked down at the baby swaddled in blankets; his tiny body was so fragile, yet he was our entire world. In that moment, a torrent of emotions surged within me. I held him tightly, tears flowing silently.
The days of caring for the child felt long. Each injection and each round of treatment seemed to carve a wound in my heart. Watching the small body filled with tubes, enduring pain in silence, I broke down several times.
"Can I really hold on?" I whispered to myself in the dark.
But as time passed, I gradually learned how to find hope amidst despair. The first time I saw the child reach out to grasp my finger, I realized that even the most fragile life could bloom into the most resilient flower.
Everything seemed to be slowly improving. The child's first surgery was successful, and recovery was faster than expected. Just when we thought we could finally breathe easy, during a routine check-up, the doctor's expression turned grave once again.
The doctor pushed open the door, his demeanor heavy as he held a report that seemed to weigh a thousand pounds with each word. "We detected a slight immune rejection response to the implanted Heart Assist Device."
My heart sank suddenly, my throat tightening as if gripped by an invisible hand. I nervously clutched Mao Yixuan's hand, my fingertips cold. "Immune rejection... what does that mean?" I asked with difficulty.
The doctor removed his glasses and pressed his thumb against his temple. "The situation is currently under control, but we must postpone the scheduled surgery. If we do not delay it, it could lead to severe organ damage or even heart failure."
"How long can he hold on?" Mao Yixuan's voice was low and calm, but I could feel his fingers trembling slightly.
The doctor sighed and flipped through the values in the report. "Current data indicates that his heart can support him for two weeks, but we must monitor him closely. If his condition worsens, we will need to proceed with a higher-risk surgery sooner."
"Is there any way to slow down the rejection response?" Mao Yixuan's gaze was sharp, piercing through to the doctor.
The doctor nodded slowly. "We will try to delay the progression of the disease with immunosuppressants and nutritional interventions, but the effectiveness varies from person to person. We need your cooperation to avoid any external infections and emotional stressors. These could worsen the situation."
For a moment, I felt dizzy, as if a massive stone were pressing down on my chest. Tears welled up in my eyes, but I fought to hold them back. "So, we can only gamble... and wait?"
The doctor's eyes reflected a hint of helplessness. "This is not what we want, but for now, it is the safest choice. The more complex the condition, the more time and patience we need."
Mao Yixuan tightened his grip on my hand without saying a word. The air in the hospital room was filled with the scent of medication, yet today, there seemed to be a hint of hope lingering in the atmosphere. After weeks of treatment, our child finally showed signs of resilience. The heartbeat monitor displayed stable fluctuations, and his breathing rate normalized under the doctor's watchful eye.
The doctor closed the examination report, a rare smile appearing on his face. "His body is gradually recovering; the results of the first phase of treatment are very promising. As long as we continue on this treatment path, there is a strong possibility of full recovery."
My eyes grew warm as I looked at Mao Yixuan, whose eyes were also slightly red. We held each other's hands tightly, tears silently streaming down our faces.
"He will get better..." I whispered, as if speaking to Mao Yixuan and also reassuring myself.
Mao Yixuan wrapped me in his arms, his voice gentle yet firm. "No matter how difficult it gets, we've made it through."
With our child's condition improving, we finally had the opportunity to sit down and plan for the future.
"Once the baby fully recovers, we need to seriously consider the balance in our lives," Mao Yixuan said while flipping through a parenting book. "I will try to minimize my outings for work and focus more on home."
I looked at the peaceful sleeping face of our child, warmth flooding my heart. "I will adjust my work pace as well. Perhaps I can shift to remote work, allowing me more time to be with the baby."
Mao Yixuan leaned down and kissed my forehead. "We will find our own rhythm."
However, life never allows people to linger in happiness for too long. Just as we were gradually regaining our pace, my body began to show signs of distress.
At first, it was just minor discomfort: occasional dizziness, palpitations, and bouts of shortness of breath. I thought it was a normal reaction to postpartum recovery and paid little attention.
"How have you been feeling lately?" Mao Yixuan would ask with concern every day, but I always smiled and brushed it off. "I'm fine, just a bit tired."
Until one day, as I stood at the door of the child's hospital room, I suddenly felt darkness closing in. My body went weak, and I collapsed forward.
When I regained consciousness, I found myself staring at a familiar ceiling, the scent of disinfectant filling the air. I tried to sit up but was overwhelmed by a wave of weakness that kept me pinned to the bed.
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