I Died Afraid My Broken Arm Burdened Them

Summary

After a malfunctioning machine at the factory mangled both my arms, I called my mother.

“Mom, what if I lost my arms and could not work or make money anymore?”

She thought I joked, yet her voice stayed deadly serious.

“Then your dad and I will take care of you for the rest of your life. We will beg if we have to. We will dig through trash, sell our blood, even sell our kidneys. We will find a way to keep you fed.”

I had known since I was little that our family stayed desperately poor.

My parents had sold everything they could and worked themselves sick just to raise me.