Shane ultimately didn't help. Meanwhile, Cherry spent over an hour cleaning me. She was sweating profusely, but she still carefully changed me into clean clothes and placed me in a wheelchair.
"Mom, are you hungry? I'll make you dinner," she said to me.
Exhausted, Cherry nearly fainted as she stood up. But she only paused for a few seconds before forcing herself back into the kitchen.
Soon, she served steamed fish, braised pork, stir-fried vegetables and a pot of steaming chicken soup. She brought the meal to me, then scooped a spoonful of chicken soup, carefully cooled it and placed it in my mouth.
"Mom, I made today's chicken soup specially from fresh free-range chicken I bought from a farm in the countryside. You used to love it so much. Come and try it."
I turned my head away and said coldly, "I don't want to eat."
Cherry’s eyes were filled with worry, "Mom, you already have diarrhea. If you don't eat something to replenish your body, you won't be able to handle it."
I looked at her, my tone still cold, "I have no appetite."
After that, I looked at Shane, who was lying on the sofa playing with his phone and said gently, "Shane, I want to eat that cake on the coffee table."