I was born into an ordinary family and had a simple life during my childhood. My parents bought clothes, delicious food, and toys for me, so I could say that I lived carefree.
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As an only child, I didn't have any siblings, which may have been related to my birth. My health wasn't very good, which may have caused my parents to worry and decide not to have another child.
During my childhood, my life mainly revolved around going to school. After school, I attended some tutoring classes and played with friends I met in the neighborhood. My life was quite routine, and I spent most of my time at home. Reading books and write stories.212Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡTUAhkWSKt5
My parents were very busy with work, so I treasured the time I spent with them.
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When my mother was pregnant with me, she went into premature labor one day while on her way to the hospital. I was born in the taxi, and from the beginning, I had serious health problems, including severe pneumonia, a weak heartbeat, and even a cerebral hemorrhage.
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According to my parents, my mother held me like a small kitten, and I weighed only as much as four oranges. She couldn't believe what had happened and became very worried about my condition.
Soon after, I was placed in an oxygen box because I was having difficulty breathing and couldn't even drink milk. The doctors had to insert a needle into my arm to give me nutrients.
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My parents regularly visited me in the hospital, and everything seemed to be going fine until one night when my intestines became swollen and red, causing me to cry incessantly. This went on for a day or two, and the doctors told my parents that if the situation continued, they would have to perform surgery to remove a portion of my intestine to save my life. They also gave me medication, but my parents didn't want the doctors to perform the surgery.
The doctors had no choice but to observe me for a few more days. Fortunately, the medication started to take effect the next day, and my intestines gradually returned to normal.
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As time went on, I grew up healthy, and after about six months, I was finally able to leave the hospital. I had many follow-up visits and regular check-ups and often had to go in and out of the hospital.
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I vaguely remember a pink wall in our home, which made it feel warm and comforting. This image stayed with me.
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