研究生基础综合英语2A_A Wedding Gift由刀豆文库小编整理，希望给你工作、学习、生活带来方便，猜你可能喜欢“基础综合英语研究生”。
A Wedding Gift
Elizabeth Economou
I had always dreamed of being proposed to in a Parisian cafe, under dazzling stars, like the one in a Van Gogh knockoff that hangs in my studio apartment.Instead, my boyfriend asked me to marry him while I was Windexing the bathroom mirror.At 40 years old, it was my turn.I had gracefully stepped aside and watched both my twin sister and our baby sister take the matrimonial plunge before me.I had been a bridesmaid seven times and a maid of honor three times.I had more pastel-colored, taffeta drees than a consignment shop.My fiancé, George, and I are Greek-American, but we wanted a simple, elegant affair.No entourage of bridesmaids and groomsmen.No silly slideshow revealing details of our courtship.This would be an intimate gathering, neither big nor fat, with 100 or so guests.In our families that is intimate.My job as a publicist to a monomaniacal orchestra conductor had just vanished, so I had lots of time to devote to my new project.George, who worked 60 hours a week as a pharmacist, now had a second job: listening to me whine about the wedding.After all, this was my show, and I was the director.But the more time and effort I put in, the more the universe tried to thwart me.The Greek band from Los Angeles that I wanted wasn't available.The stitching i had requested for my cathedral veil was all wrong.My ivory silk gown was being quarantined somewhere in Singapore.And with our wedding just a few weeks away, I was annoyed that most of my guests were responding after the deadline.Then I received the call from my mother, petite and brimming with energy at 68, who a few days before had been so thrilled about the wedding.She’d been to the doctor for her annual checkup.Although she felt fine, the diagnosis was stomach cancer.Over the next few days, the question became not “What kind of wedding?” but “Wedding?” I had thought of it as my Big Day.I realized that a Big Day without my mother would be no day at all.Not having my dad, who paed away three years before, to walk me down the aisle was painful, but the thought of not having Mom there was unbearable.Within a few days, I moved back home to Seattle from New York City and postponed the ceremony.I switched from navigating wedding plans to navigating the health-care system.I had picked out the song to be played for our first dance as a husband and wife, but now I was hard-preed to remember what it was.My wedding, like a dream, was vanishing against the harsh reality of illne.Meanwhile, my two sisters and I, who lived in three different cities, were united once again in a hospital waiting room.My twin sister flew in from Chicago despite being eight months pregnant.Our baby sister, who'd been looking after Mom since Dad's death, was gripped by fear as the familiar sights and smells were eerily reminiscent of his final days.After consulting with doctors, we learned that stomach surgery was Mom's only option.We took the first opening.On a drab autumn morning, as sheets of rain relentlely poured over Seattle, Mom was admitted to the Swedish Cancer Institute.During a five-hour operation, surgeons removed two thirds of her stomach.Pacing in the waiting room, terrified, I wondered what the future held for all of us.George flew out to be with me.“There's no place I'd rather be,” he said.For three nights he
slept on the dank floor in the hospital waiting area wrapped in a tattered sheet with a soiled sofa cushion under his head.A week after the operation, the surgeon gave us his prognosis: “The cancer has not spread,” he said.Those were some of the loveliest words in the English language.George squeezed my hand as tears trickled down my face.The weeks that followed were exhausting.My mother had to rethink her diet, and I had to figure out what to prepare.Decadent Greek meals were replaced by tiny portions and lots of protein, which would help mend the six-inch incision that ran from her breastbone past her navel.Protein would also bolster her immune system for the chemo and radiation that might follow.Until then, my idea of cooking had been microwaving the doggie bag from the chi-chi restaurant I'd eaten at the night before.But after two months, I mastered poached eggs and T-bone steaks.What's more, caring for my Mom made me realize how consummately she had cared for all of us.I'll never forget when I went to see her in the intensive-care unit, just a few hours after her surgery.She was strung out with a myriad of plastic tubes protruding from her arms, nose, and mouth.“Liz, make sure you eat something,” she said in a strained, raspy voice.Forget Paris.Mom's full recovery was my dream now.Recently, she went for a follow-up C-T scan.As she removed her gold wed-ding band for the exam, her fragile 98-pound frame trembled.There would be this scan, and many more.But the doctor said, “Everything looks good.” Soon, my mother will be walking me down the aisle.I've forgotten what kind of stitching is in my veil.But when I remove it from my face, I'll be staring at the two people I love beyond all reason: my soon-to-be husband and the woman who showed me what's really important.
