I spent my youth training my son to become a doctor of medicine.
But I got cancer and suffered a lot.
Before I died, I learned that cancer turned out to be a "gift" from my son.
The reason is that I asked him to make up classes and didn't allow him to "play games."
When I opened my eyes again, I went back to my son's senior year in high school.
This time, I choose to respect your choice.
But why are you crying and begging me to take care of you?
