Just five weeks earlier we were laughing and arguing as mother and son often do. But on Oct. 22, 2015 I hugged my mother, Amatul Karim Nusrat Chaudhry, for the last time.
On Sept. 14 all appeared well. On Sept. 17 we discovered end stage cancer in her liver, rapidly spreading throughout her abdomen. By Oct. 22, my mother's vitals began to fade, and I pleaded with her doctors to revive her. I was soon forced to make the hardest decision of my life--order her physicians to stop the code. In other words, stop efforts to resuscitate her. She gave me life, and I had the painful privilege, and burden, to ensure she went in peace.
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Originally published at www.mercurynews.com