In Memory of a Mother | Part 4

2001, she was diagnosed with type 2 diabetes, which changed the course of her life.

At first, the quacks in a local hospital couldn't confirm the real cause of her disease: she constantly had vaginal infections and excessive genital itching. They simply treated it as some malign gynecological disease.

She thought about the possibility of venereal diseases, because she had contracted the sort before, thanks to her husband, who continued visiting brothels and abusing her. Shame and hatred gnawing away at her, she put up with cry-all-night months. Her son often woke up in the middle of the night and found her sobbing her heart out. Disillusionment with a contented life was inevitable, but she had no idea that her life should be this hard.

Now, purely by chance, she was diagnosed by an experienced gynecologist from a superior hospital, and the true cause of her disease was found. This "chronic cancer", as it is nicknamed, could be vitiating every one of her internal organs and incapacitating her eventually by damaging her eyes and ulcerating hands and feet. She blamed this incurable disease on chronic mental stress and severe depression caused by her husband.

Worse still, she lost faith in doctors and medicines. After all, she missed the crucial early treatment period altogether, because of those incompetent physicians.

That was when she got indoctrinated to convert to a cult.

One of her best friends was a staunch defender of the cultism. She fooled herself into buying that friend's mumbo-jumbo. She voraciously read the scriptures all night, overwhelmed by a heightened awareness that the cult leader, the Master, as the cultists normally called, was her messiah. She devoured every single word from her "messiah", at which every reasonable man would laugh his head off and anyone who could finish junior high school would spit. She was watching the cult videos and listening to the recordings of the Master day and night, steeped in the dogma, immersed in it, swimming about in it, desperately craving for some sort of salvation from this life, which was so unworthy of living that she couldn't help but wonder what her next life might be like.

As is the case with all religious charlatans, the Master wraps numerous layers of seductive sugar frosting around a deteriorating core, which can be boiled down into the detrimental essence that "if you trust me and follow my path down to the end with "PERFECT" religiosity, I guarantee your soul will be saved from endless reincarnations, and transcended into an ethereal realm where you will be blessed with eternal bliss." Anyone whose mind is equipped with the rudiments of logic can easily refute such ludicrous nonsense - the fallacy of perfection:

There is no such thing as "perfect"!

But who grants the false prophet the power and right to define "perfect"?

The most malicious, insidious effect the hilarious dogma could exert on the cultists is the way they treat their own diseases –

The Master proclaims that if you are really a believer, you will never have any kind of disease, because of some mysterious healing energy he's constantly transferring into his "perfect" believers from some higher power in the cosmos. Ergo, if you do catch a disease, then you are not really a "perfect" believer, for all of which you yourself alone should be held accountable. Your attempt to seek medical advice from any doctor just proves that you are not one. But even "imperfect" believers shall the Master never forsake, only when they hold fast to that all sorts of diseases are nothing but hallucinations commanded by some evil spirits haunting their subconscious.

She bent over backwards to be such a "perfect" adherent, dug her heels in the muck and mire of such self-excusing nonsense, granted a get-out-of-jail-free card to such self-aggrandizing abracadabra, and worst of all, scowled at anyone caring about her who took the liberty of trying to persuade her to go to hospital and take medicines.

"You know shit! Without the Master and the Discipline, I couldn't have lived thus long. He saved me, mentally and physically. I will not be stuffed into a human shell in the next life. Humans are born to suffer." she retorted, every time her son tried to talk her out of it.

December, 2020, it was all too late. Nearly every one of her critical organs had already developed irreversible failure.