Clipping Board » Illness Enters through Mouth ─ The information that has been made public is often just the tip of the iceberg...
April 9, 2017 Author: Wang Yongzhang / University Technician
The memory of my university classmate who passed away from cancer shortly after graduation has always lingered in my mind. Now, my elder sister’s brain hemorrhage has brought that classmate back to my thoughts.
That classmate often stayed up all night in the dorm, busy on the computer or online, only going to bed at dawn and sleeping until noon. My elder sister also frequently stayed up late and slept in until midday.
My classmate loved eating fried chicken cutlets. The ones sold near the university were cheap, and buying one made for a meal—often the go-to choice for students. My sister, too, often ate oversized fried chicken cutlets, heavily seasoned Dongshan duck heads, and deep-fried salty crispy chicken so greasy it barely resembled food as late-night snacks. My mother often urged her not to eat so much.
One evening, I saw a huge transparent plastic bag in the living room, filled with aluminum cans of sugary drinks from the same brand, ready for recycling. I was shocked. Why so many? My sister said she drank one every morning and had saved them up after washing. I angrily asked her, "Don’t you know drinking these every day is bad for your health?"
She didn’t respond.
I think she was trapped by her lifestyle habits. In summer, she drank three cups of fructose-loaded bubble tea a day, never realizing the sugar was inflaming her blood vessels. The body repairs the damage, but drinking it daily meant daily inflammation—a cycle that lasted years, thinning her blood vessels until it triggered a stroke that left her completely paralyzed.
As an adult, how could she possibly heed her family’s warnings?
It was the same with my university classmate, living independently. Far from family, no one could regulate his routines or diet. With little companionship or care, he ate and slept as he pleased.
Living in the most extreme, indulgent way, he cut his life short at just forty.
Now, whenever I see bubble tea shops on the street, I think of my sister holding her drink.
Whenever I see overweight pedestrians with large bellies, I remember my sister riding a scooter with my mother, her heavy body making the vehicle seem tiny.
I don’t understand.
My sister and I grew up together. When we were kids, we talked about our dreams for the future—but never about becoming a vegetative state. Why did she end up like this? Why is the adult world so different from what we imagined as children? Why, throughout our long years of schooling, did teachers and adults only emphasize studying hard, getting good grades, and landing a good job—but never taught us to eat healthy, drink water, exercise regularly, maintain a normal physique, or develop social skills to serve society?
All the knowledge I gained over those endless years of education came to a halt with my classmate’s death from cancer and my sister’s stroke-induced paralysis.
In the ICU, I saw my sister—countless plastic tubes brutally inserted into her body, her eyes unable to open, her limbs immobile. No matter how much family and friends spoke to her, she remained silent.
My younger sister kept urging her to get better quickly so they could travel abroad together again. But this "quickly" would take at least ten years. How many decades does a person even have?
I hid in the farthest corner of the room. I didn’t want to approach the bed. I didn’t want to look too closely. I didn’t want to say anything. I didn’t want to show any emotion.
If you don’t prioritize your health today, this is the inevitable outcome—and it may come sooner than you think.
The sorrow in my heart is hard to put into words. This is the reality the world has given us.
Accepting that my sister—who just last week could walk, move, eat, speak, and laugh—has, in a single day, become someone who can never do any of those things again.Source: https:/ / tw. news. yahoo. com/ % E……5% A6% E4% B8% AD- 042124452. html
Three Sugary Drinks A Day Led to My Sister's Stroke
The memory of my university classmate who passed away from cancer shortly after graduation has always lingered in my mind. Now, my elder sister’s brain hemorrhage has brought that classmate back to my thoughts.
That classmate often stayed up all night in the dorm, busy on the computer or online, only going to bed at dawn and sleeping until noon. My elder sister also frequently stayed up late and slept in until midday.
My classmate loved eating fried chicken cutlets. The ones sold near the university were cheap, and buying one made for a meal—often the go-to choice for students. My sister, too, often ate oversized fried chicken cutlets, heavily seasoned Dongshan duck heads, and deep-fried salty crispy chicken so greasy it barely resembled food as late-night snacks. My mother often urged her not to eat so much.
One evening, I saw a huge transparent plastic bag in the living room, filled with aluminum cans of sugary drinks from the same brand, ready for recycling. I was shocked. Why so many? My sister said she drank one every morning and had saved them up after washing. I angrily asked her, "Don’t you know drinking these every day is bad for your health?"
She didn’t respond.
I think she was trapped by her lifestyle habits. In summer, she drank three cups of fructose-loaded bubble tea a day, never realizing the sugar was inflaming her blood vessels. The body repairs the damage, but drinking it daily meant daily inflammation—a cycle that lasted years, thinning her blood vessels until it triggered a stroke that left her completely paralyzed.
As an adult, how could she possibly heed her family’s warnings?
It was the same with my university classmate, living independently. Far from family, no one could regulate his routines or diet. With little companionship or care, he ate and slept as he pleased.
Living in the most extreme, indulgent way, he cut his life short at just forty.
Now, whenever I see bubble tea shops on the street, I think of my sister holding her drink.
Whenever I see overweight pedestrians with large bellies, I remember my sister riding a scooter with my mother, her heavy body making the vehicle seem tiny.
I don’t understand.
My sister and I grew up together. When we were kids, we talked about our dreams for the future—but never about becoming a vegetative state. Why did she end up like this? Why is the adult world so different from what we imagined as children? Why, throughout our long years of schooling, did teachers and adults only emphasize studying hard, getting good grades, and landing a good job—but never taught us to eat healthy, drink water, exercise regularly, maintain a normal physique, or develop social skills to serve society?
All the knowledge I gained over those endless years of education came to a halt with my classmate’s death from cancer and my sister’s stroke-induced paralysis.
In the ICU, I saw my sister—countless plastic tubes brutally inserted into her body, her eyes unable to open, her limbs immobile. No matter how much family and friends spoke to her, she remained silent.
My younger sister kept urging her to get better quickly so they could travel abroad together again. But this "quickly" would take at least ten years. How many decades does a person even have?
I hid in the farthest corner of the room. I didn’t want to approach the bed. I didn’t want to look too closely. I didn’t want to say anything. I didn’t want to show any emotion.
If you don’t prioritize your health today, this is the inevitable outcome—and it may come sooner than you think.
The sorrow in my heart is hard to put into words. This is the reality the world has given us.
Accepting that my sister—who just last week could walk, move, eat, speak, and laugh—has, in a single day, become someone who can never do any of those things again.Source: https:/ / tw. news. yahoo. com/ % E……5% A6% E4% B8% AD- 042124452. html