I will never forget the scene that happened five years ago, when my mom was filled with worry and anxiety in a hospital after she read the diagnosis indicating I had myocarditis, an inflammation of the heart muscle.

    She immediately called many relatives and friends to look for the best expert to cure my illness. After incessant consultation, my mom’s efforts finally paid off — a famous herbalist doctor in a remote place said my disease was curable, if I was given long-term treatment and care.

    “No problem! We can come for treatment every week,” my mom said, with great relief in her voice.

    Over the next five years, my mom took me to see the doctor every weekend without delay, regardless of bad weather or busy times at work.

    I was attending a boarding school at the time so it was inconvenient for me to take traditional Chinese medicine that needed to be boiled.

    Every day after school, I went to the school’s gatekeeper to pick up a bottle with my name on it. That’s because before that, after classes ended at about 12 p.m., I’d receive a call from my mom, who would say in her soft voice: “I have put the medicine at the school gate, remember to take it and drink it in time.”

    One summer day, my mom had an acute fever and selected traditional Chinese medicine as a cure. But we had only one pot to boil the herbal medicine. She insisted that my herbal medicine should be boiled first, despite that she needed to take her medicine immediately, because her illness was acute while mine was chronic.

    With five years of intense care, I am now recovered and I feel my life is so nice and promising when I am free of illness. Certainly, I will never forget that my vigorous life has been brought back to me by my mom, who has devoted her motherly love to me.