小杂绪英文练笔7

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Today is the seventh day of the treatment, two days after the operation. Time drags by in the hospital when I regularly eat medicines, take injections and receive machine treatments. 

Since the operation, I have been covered with bandages about my belly, neck and head, looking like a wounded soldier, who ran out of his spirits in battleground. My poor belly, which offered a kind of cells to the other two parts at the operation, has been under the very uncomfortable state, in which my wounds glued to the gauze bandages are torn apart from the gauze bandages every time I stand up from a chair or a bed.

The cost of this whole treatment is very dear, dearer than the sum of former cures put together. When the doctor proficiently calculated the expense of the treatment, mother and I held our breaths to see the final figure, flustered and drained of energy. As I expected, the final sum came out as a hungry boa, ready to swallow a lion’s share of my mother’s savings. It seemed ages that had passed before we gained strength to squeeze words through lips, pleading for a lower sum. The doctor eluded this in a detached, delicate manner. Pondering about the treatment and its price, mother sank into the bitter silence, wearing a wretched expression, her long hair disheveled, back bended and overcoat tiredly opened. For the first time in my life, I felt powerless before the harsh reality, powerless to continue and powerless to retreat.