In a medical ward of the local People’s hospital, came a male voice in Chinese, “The West speculates where Cuba is heading in its economic reform. As one of the reddest countries in the world, is Cuba changing its color? ...” Was it a radio newscast? Close up, and you would see a mid-aged man reading a news story from the newspaper Global Times to a patient lying in the hospital bed. That patient is none other than my father.

After returning from 117 Hospital of the PLA, my father stayed with us in the city. Actually he desired to go back to the home in the countryside where he used to live. But he knew this time it would be all but impossible to live on his own. He had to take pain killers every 6 hours in order to live a bearable life. Pain killers can only reduce the pain; it cannot completely get rid of it. And he could only eat very little at each meal. Despite this, he could get up and sometimes was able to go outside and walk a bit in the neighborhood.

Last week, however, he felt it hard to breathe. He could not go outside any more, and had to lie on the bed most of the time. Seeing this, we decided to send him to hospital. Frankly, the doctor there doesn’t have any good cure for a deadly disease like his, which is already at its advanced stage. Since the time he first told me that he felt chest pain, I have seen how the disease, step by step, deprived him of his basic living rights. At first, he was unable to lie on the back, and now he can only lie on the left side. I saw how he ate less and less, and became thinner and thinner. I was actually shocked to find he should be so bony when I supported him to the toilet one day. I saw how he walked with more and more difficulty, and now can only lie in bed. Although his health conditions are getting worse and worse, he still can think very clearly. And he has been fighting a losing battle courageously.

My father worked hard all his life. He served in the army for six years and then participated in the construction of the first ever hydro-power station. In the years that followed, he worked in several different power stations as a mid-level administrator. So devoted to his work was he that he came home only twice a year. When he retired, we all thought that he could finally get the chance to relax and spend the rest of his life in comfort. No one could possibly have foreseen that he should have to suffer all this suffering. In all his life, there’re only three things he likes to do as a way of enjoying life: drinking, smoking and reading or listening to news, especially international news. The first two have long been taken away from him. And the last one seems to be hard to continue.

One day, when he asked me about the new development in Libyan, it suddenly occurred to me that it was three days since he had last read newspapers or watched TV. So I said to him, “Dad, I’ll read news stories from newspapers to you. Nothing can deprive you of this right.” Since that day, I’ve read news stories almost everyday. I let him choose what he likes to know, and then I will read slowly to him at the hospital bed. Sometimes he would doze off, but I just read on and on. I said silently to my dad, “The disease has ruthlessly deprived you of many living rights, but nothing will deprive you of this----- to know the daily news. I might not be able to help you relieve the pain and sufferings, but I’m determined to ensure that you have this. This is the least I can do for you!”

As the old proverb goes, “When a father gives to his son, they both laugh. When a son gives to his father, they both cry.”