Suzanna gazes through the window, tears in her eyes. She’s mumbling to herself, blaming herself. I walk to her and put my hand on her shoulder. She turns her head just long enough for me to see her clearly. Her eyes were puffy, her nose was running and her lips were cracked and bleeding. She’s been standing in the hospital corridor for the past 3 to 4 hours, waiting for her mother to wake up. I stand with her, giving her all the help and support that I could give her.

Her mother, Joselyn, lies in the hospital bed, IV’s pumping fluid into her body. She looked like a skeleton, so small and fragile, on the large hospital bed. What was left of her hair was in the shape of a halo on her pillow. Her breathing was shallow and she looked peaceful, if you overlooked the sickness.

The cancer had hit her hard and there was a very small chance of her surviving. They had tried every treatment. They had gotten a donor and the disease had killed her new cells, she had gotten chemo and it only made her sick without doing any good. They had tried radiation without any effects. Nothing had worked. The doctor opened the door to the room and escorted Suzanna and I in.
“Oh, mama.” Suzanna cried, grabbing hold of her mother’s hand. “ I’m so sorry. I should have been here. This is all my fault.” Tears were streaming down Suzanna’s face. I watched as her mom tried to speak. It took a few minutes but she managed a few words.
“Suzanna, it’s not your fault,” she whispered hoarsely, “ I should have told you before you left.” She had tears in her eyes and it seemed like she was barely hanging on.
After a few minutes, she fell asleep. I grabbed Suzanna by the hand and led her out of the room. She was still crying.
“There’s no cure, Maria. She’s going to die,” she told me through clenched teeth. I pulled her in for a hug and let her cry on my shoulder. We went home for the night and promised each other to pray for her mom, as long and hard as we could, until her mom got better.
The next morning when we arrived at Joselyn’s room, she wasn’t in there. Suzanna ran to the nurse’s desk to find a doctor.
“Where’s my mother?” Suzanna cried, “ Where is she?” Tears were welling up in her eyes. I grabbed her and I could feel her shaking.
“Miss, please calm down. You’re mother is in surgery. We found a donor for her so we’re giving this another try.” The doctor looked at Suzanna with pity in his eyes. We all knew how much finding a donor meant to her. We all knew how much she hoped, how much she prayed that this would work.
Suzanna sat down in the chair outside Joselyn’s room and put her head in her hands. Her shaking had calmed down and she was mumbling to herself. No, she was praying. Praying that this surgery would work. Praying that she didn’t lose the one thing in her life that mattered the most.
A few hours later, Joselyn was lying in the hospital bed, calm and asleep. The IV’s were back in her arm and her breathing had improved. We just had to wait a while to find out if the surgery actually worked.
After a few months, we took Joselyn back to the doctors. She had gained some weight and her hair was growing back. She was able to eat and the pain was less intense. It seemed like the surgery had worked, but only the doctors could tell us for sure.
After what seemed like forever, the doctors came back with the results.
“Miss Suzanna,” he said with a smile, “ It seems that this surgery worked perfectly. Your mother’s cancer is in remission.” I watched as Suzanna’s eyes lit up with joy that the one thing in the world that she cared about was still with her.