"Have a small ravioli, if you want a small bowl, take it away immediately." After a brief look at the price list, I said very decisively.

"Okay, please wait, if you take it out, you will have to add one yuan to the box." Perhaps because of the booming business, the staff here are not as welcoming as the average dining establishment.

I'm here entirely for my father, so naturally I don't mind too much, they are lukewarm in their service attitude. "Okay." I replied lightly, and stood aside and waited patiently.

I also have a certain degree of understanding of so-and-so (place name) small wontons. I don't know how to do it, but when I see the small wontons gradually swelling up in the boiling pot, I know that it should be authentic. In addition to paying attention to taste, a certain (place name) small wonton also pays more attention to appearance. The best feature of this dish is that after steaming, each wonton expands to its limit, like a bubble blowing full of air. Of course, different people's skills are also very different. Among them, the best wontons, in addition to the puff, must also be crystal clear, that is, you can see through the swollen and transparent crust to see the clear pink meat filling inside. Although I didn't taste its taste, judging from its appearance, the small wontons here should be considered the best.

After a brief tasting (in my heart), the small bowl of wontons I ordered was ready. Paid and rushed to the hospital as fast as possible. Since the distance is not too far, when I go up to the 21st floor, the small wontons are still steaming! After soaking in the soup for a long time, the skin will inevitably float a little, but fortunately, it has not been completely deformed, and in general, it does not affect the appetite.

With the support of the "enthusiastic" uncle, my father was already full of expectations for a certain (place name) small wonton, and as soon as he opened it, he couldn't wait to eat it.

This time, my father ate unexpectedly fast, and before I could react, I was already in the dark. Therefore, I simply did not have time to persuade my father to eat less.

Father smashed it and smashed his mouth, looking like he had an endless aftertaste. At the same time, he also praised it very disregardantly and vividly. It's not just our father and son in the ward. As I sat on the sidelines, I couldn't help but feel a little embarrassed. But now that the matter has come to this, I can't blame my father.

"It's okay, after Dad, you recover from the operation, you can eat enough by yourself!" Blame is certainly impossible! I knew the importance of faith, so I spoke out in time to cheer up my father. "Actually, the small wontons of so-and-so (place name) taste even better when they are just out of the pot."

My father was really moved by what I said, and he looked forward to a better life after the operation. Seeing that the goal has been achieved, my mood is also very good.

After only closing his eyes for a while, my father was woken up because the preparations for the operation had officially begun. The re-measurement of body temperature and blood pressure seems to have a so-called blood sugar test...... Then there's the long infusion.

I have been silently accompanying my father. During this process, my sister, brother-in-law and wife, as well as two children, came to see my father. Although it was not for a long time, the strong family affection undoubtedly brought a happier mood to my father. I told them to tell their mother not to rush over when she woke up, but to come back after dinner.

There was nothing special about it all afternoon, my father had been on the infusion, and I had been sitting next to him with him.

This year, I was lucky, and the leaders I met took care of me, so I simply made a phone call when I asked for leave, and I didn't have to go to the unit in person to ask for leave in writing as before. This saved me a lot of trouble. Otherwise, running back and forth between the unit and the hospital will also waste a lot of my time.

After dinner, my brother-in-law and mother came to the hospital early. At that time, my father's infusion had ended, and the next thing was to wait for the enema in the evening. My mother accompanied me at the bedside, and my brother-in-law went to buy porridge at the Maize Man (restaurant chain) according to my father's wishes. I, on the other hand, went to my sister's house for dinner as fast as I could.

When I came to the ward again, the enema didn't start. It can be seen that although my father is chatting with others, he is still quite nervous.

At about eight o'clock, the nurse came with a tool cart. Not to mention my father, even when I saw this battle, I felt a little frightened. The nurse was very skillful, first hanging a plastic bag like an infusion at the head of the bed, and then telling the father to get up first and put a plastic cushion in the middle of the bed.

When the father lay down on the hospital bed again, the nurse reassured him not to be nervous. Saying that this mat is just to prevent accidents and does not necessarily mean that it will be used. Then, the curtains on both sides of the bed were closed.

At this point, the drawbacks of the middle position are clearly revealed. How can the curtains be blocked completely, as long as the patients or family members on the beds on both sides want to go to the toilet or take something or something, then the curtain is like a void.

The nurse told the father to turn to his left side and lie down, curling up as much as he could, his hips protruding as much as possible. Then, very neatly, the nurse ripped off his father's pants, inserted a tube deep into his anus at the end of the bedside plastic bag, and then turned the flow rate to the maximum.

As the liquid in the plastic bag gradually decreased, the expression on my father's face became more and more ugly. I know it's because of the pain that comes to the face. After the liquid stopped flowing, the nurse pulled out the tube and emphasized: try to persevere, at least 15 minutes, preferably half an hour, if you can't hold on anymore, you can go to the toilet. After saying that, the nurse sorted out her things and pushed the cart away.

My father's face was almost distorted, and so much liquid poured into his anus was already painful, and he had to hold on for more than ten minutes, and the difficulty was conceivable. My father was a man of fortitude, and he had firmly remembered what the nurse had said about holding out for at least fifteen minutes. However, the pain was so unbearable that at about ten minutes, my father asked me in a completely hoarse voice how long it had been. I said, "It's been ten minutes." Seeing my father's pained expression, I couldn't bear it. So he persuaded his father that if he couldn't hold out, he would go to the toilet.

"I can bear it, just hold on a little longer!" When my father replied in a painful but firm tone, my heart was filled with admiration in addition to shock.

After I told my father exactly "it's been fifteen minutes," he persevered for several minutes with great tenacity. It wasn't until I couldn't stand it anymore that I rushed to the bathroom and came to a pour.