“No way. How could she only have three months left? You call yourself a doctor?”
My mom tried to make herself feel better.
I was just two years older than Joan. Unlike other parents who loved all their children, my dad only loved Joan. He believed that she brought him luck.
Six months after I was born, my dad broke his leg and had to use a wheelchair.
Meanwhile, after Joan was born, his leg slowly got better. Soon, he could walk normally.
As such, he did not like me. He ignored me, and my mom started thinking that I brought them bad luck too.
When Joan first got sick, my dad slapped me and said, “It’s your fault! You bring bad luck to this family!”
The same thing happened again. He came to the hospital after my mom called, and the first thing he said was, “What now? You’re sick? Hasn’t this family suffered enough? Stop causing trouble!”
Then, he went straight into Joan’s room.
The doctor was so angry with the way they acted that he walked away.
I did not say anything.
A we
