On Sunday morning, Mother took me to the City Hospital on a visit to my gran. She sank into a coma in April. I have been to see her six times since her hospitalisation.

After she fell into the coma, according to the doctors, the chance was slim that she would regain her consciousness. To everyone’s amazement, there came a day when the stiff grey-haired lady miraculously opened her eyes and smiled.

Since Gran woke up, she has been improving, albeit painfully slowly. At first, she was incontinent. Now, she can use the toilet with help. Better still, she can recognise family and friends. Having been transferred from her former ward to the rehab floor, Gran can sit back on a chair. Although talking is still beyond her, she is able to make facial expressions.

As I was stepping into the ward on Sunday, the elderly lady in the chair grinned. By the time I took off my glasses, she had recognised me and cried like a baby.

Hearing her mother sobbing uncontrollably, my aunt, who has been caring for her, hurried over. She tried to soothe Gran. A moment later, the groggy senior became quiet and stared at me.

Gran is 78 this year. I am afraid that she might feel she has become a burden to the family. I will promise Gran that whatever difficulties we might meet, as long as there is a glimmer of hope, we will never give up on her. I hope that she can keep making progress until I have graduated from high school. Then I could take the time to share my life stories with her, just as she related hers to me when I was a kid.

May Gran bounce back to her normal self sooner. I pray for her every day.