I opened my eyes and found the doctors were standing by my bed. They had some welcome news. I had been living in the bone marrow transplant unit of the famous cancer center for a month. The doctors told me that while my immune system was still very weak, my brother  Adam's healthy cells were beginning to work in my bone marrow. I was showing signs of progress: I was able to walk around---slowly---without assistance, my blood counts were going in the right direction, and I no longer needed to be connected continuously to an IV machine. It was the"graduation"day. The doctors were sending me to the Hope Room, a halfway house sponsored by the American Cancer Society. I would live there for the next three months and would be cared for by my boyfriend, Seamus, who is again helping me write this column for Internet readers as I regain my strength. Pushed out of the hospital in a wheelchair, I took my first breath of fresh air in weeks. But before I could enjoy this moment, my mother helped me put on a mask. I gave her an annoyed look, but I knew she was right. For the immediate future, I would need to wear gloves and a mask wherever I wanted to go in public. No subways, no crowds. However, I can enjoy my freedom, even if cancer continues to limit my choices. My new freedom means not being waken up every couple of hours by a nurse with pills in her hand, not seeing doctors with their masks and their caring, and not being connected to an IV machine 24 hours a day. Freedom also means being patient with my mother and boyfriend, who try hard to cook for me in the kitchen and make sure I don't fall off my chair in the shower. Freedom is the responsibility to take medicine on time. Freedom also means returning to the hospital several times a week to receive follow-up examinations. But all is well worth. You surely know the reason. I love every one of my family and I love Seamus. Why does the author regard taking medicine as her duty?
Because the doctors will examine her soon. Because she wants to return to school. Because her parents force her to do so. Because she loves those who love her.
Question: I opened my eyes and found the doctors were standing by my bed. They had some welcome news. I had been living in the bone marrow transplant unit of the famous cancer center for a month. The doctors told me that while my immune system was still very weak, my brother  Adam's healthy cells were beginning to work in my bone marrow. I was showing signs of progress: I was able to walk around---slowly---without assistance, my blood counts were going in the right direction, and I no longer needed to be connected continuously to an IV machine. It was the"graduation"day. The doctors were sending me to the Hope Room, a halfway house sponsored by the American Cancer Society. I would live there for the next three months and would be cared for by my boyfriend, Seamus, who is again helping me write this column for Internet readers as I regain my strength. Pushed out of the hospital in a wheelchair, I took my first breath of fresh air in weeks. But before I could enjoy this moment, my mother helped me put on a mask. I gave her an annoyed look, but I knew she was right. For the immediate future, I would need to wear gloves and a mask wherever I wanted to go in public. No subways, no crowds. However, I can enjoy my freedom, even if cancer continues to limit my choices. My new freedom means not being waken up every couple of hours by a nurse with pills in her hand, not seeing doctors with their masks and their caring, and not being connected to an IV machine 24 hours a day. Freedom also means being patient with my mother and boyfriend, who try hard to cook for me in the kitchen and make sure I don't fall off my chair in the shower. Freedom is the responsibility to take medicine on time. Freedom also means returning to the hospital several times a week to receive follow-up examinations. But all is well worth. You surely know the reason. I love every one of my family and I love Seamus. Why does the author regard taking medicine as her duty?
A. Because the doctors will examine her soon.
B. Because she wants to return to school.
C. Because her parents force her to do so.
D. Because she loves those who love her.
Answer: