I put my phone down, gazing out the window at the darkening sky.“Let her put out the effort. The higher she climbs, the harder and more painful her fall will be. What I want is a single, fatal blow.”Early next morning, I accompanied my father to the hospital for his final, comprehensive pre-op checkup.The new lead surgeon, Dr. Watson, was a middle-aged man in his fifties, wearing gold-rimmed glasses.His voice was slow and deliberate, sympathetic but professional.“Ms. Ford, please rest assured. I have carefully reviewed your father’s condition. Although the coronary artery blockage is in a tricky location, it remains within a controllable range. The surgery has a high success rate, and with proper post-op recovery, it won’t affect his quality of life.”My heart, which had been hanging in suspense for so long, finally settled back into place.I was grateful for this new surgeon.“Thank you, doctor. I trust you with my dad’s life.”As my father was led away by the nurse to draw blood
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