My name is Figo. My mom told me a story about my grandmother this morning. Two grandmothers, one 75 years old, the other 78 years old, went to the field to steal corn. There was a combo on the field, the corn was high, so the combo did not notice the grandmothers. He cut off their two legs. So my grandmother went to my mother for surgery. Mom tells me that they behave as if nothing happened to them: the abbreviated versions of grandmothers bitterly discuss where to get their wheelchairs until they get a disability and laugh. Unlike the combo. Those who lost consciousness at the time of meeting with grandmothers are in resuscitation.