A Scare That Opened My Eyes

Two days ago, my son Baolin was suddenly struck by intense abdominal pain, accompanied by severe vomiting and diarrhea.

At first, I went to a trusted Chinese medicine doctor and picked up some herbal remedies, hoping they would ease his symptoms. I’ve always been cautious about Western medicine—especially antibiotics—because I’m deeply aware of their potential long-term effects. But this time was different: Baolin couldn’t keep anything down. Even a sip of water would come right back up. By evening, I knew we couldn’t wait any longer—I rushed him to the ER.

Thankfully, the hospital near us was calm and clean, and strangely, not crowded. After waiting for about an hour, the doctor began his evaluation. But things weren’t as simple as we hoped. The doctor’s expression turned serious, and he immediately ordered a CT scan. What we thought was just food poisoning turned out to be far more serious. The doctor said Baolin needed to be admitted right away—his kidney function had dropped to a dangerous level.

How could this be happening—to someone so young and seemingly healthy?

We were in shock, but incredibly grateful we didn’t try to “tough it out” through the night. If we hadn’t gone to the hospital when we did, I don’t even want to imagine what could’ve happened.

By sheer luck, Baolin had come home from UCLA a day earlier than planned. If he hadn’t, we’d be scrambling to drive to Los Angeles, book a hotel, cook for him, and manage everything else in unfamiliar territory. It would’ve been chaos.

Yesterday, his condition started to stabilize, but the strong antibiotics left him extremely weak. The nephrologist came in with a grave look and said, “We may need to perform a kidney biopsy.” My mind froze. I didn’t even know what questions to ask. I just sat there, clinging to every word the doctor said, as if I were a nervous fan hanging on a celebrity’s every sentence.

I felt completely overwhelmed, my mind spinning. If Baolin really had a serious condition, should he transfer to a school closer to home? Would I have to give up all my plans and dreams to care for him full time? Could I still even think about getting a puppy? Thoughts flooded my mind with no pause.

I suddenly thought of my mother. She stayed up countless nights taking care of me, giving everything she had to keep me safe. And me? I realized—shockingly—I had never truly cared for a seriously ill child. During the years I was sick, my mom raised both my kids for me. Now I saw the truth: I barely had any hands-on experience as a caregiver.

This morning, I made salmon and millet porridge and brought it to the hospital—hoping he could at least eat something better than hospital breakfast. I know porridge isn’t his favorite, but I tried to imagine: if this were my mother, what would she do?

To my surprise, Baolin said, “This is better than what they gave me.”

Even more astonishing—the nurse told me that his latest bloodwork showed his kidney function had returned to normal!

I felt like I could fly.

I thought we’d have to wait another day for results, but in that moment, it felt like sunlight broke through the clouds and poured into my heart. I experienced the sensation of being pulled back from the edge—my entire being felt lighter, freer.

This experience changed me.

I felt myself grow. From someone who used to crumble under pressure, riddled with anxiety, I became a mother who could stay calm, show up, and care for her child. I now deeply understand:

• Nothing matters more than family being together.
• Health is the foundation of everything else—it must come first.

I told Baolin, “This summer, you need to make a fitness plan.”

And I told Baoqi, “You see now why we can’t all be scattered across the country. After you graduate, consider coming back to California. We need to be close to each other. A family is a team.”

Now that the storm has passed, I can finally turn back to my own dreams, with joy. I can start thinking again about that sweet little puppy I’ve been waiting for. But I also know—

One day, life will hit us faster than tomorrow arrives.

I want to be ready. I want to grow into someone who can carry the weight of life without falling apart. Someone who can protect her family with a calm heart and steady hands.

Because this, I’ve come to realize,
is my real spiritual practice—as a mother, as a wife, and as myself.