"My mother screamed. It meant my father needed a doctor — now.

But why?

We just visited the hospital days before to refill his drugs. He would be better if he used the drugs. Magic drugs. That is what he called them. I stood up from the mat where I slept beside them to find him not moving.

But why?

When he got sick, he moved. He moved a lot. Then, he got better and stopped moving. But he always moved first. My mother noticed me. Her eyes reminded me of a movie. The warrior dropped her sword in the middle of a battle. Her comrades were all dead. But she was not. I never understood why she dropped her sword. She could have fought and lived. But she died. My mother held the same look as the warrior."

Sarah Fashakin is a medical student.

She shares her story and discusses her KevinMD article, "What my father taught me about language." (https://www.kevinmd.com/blog/2021/10/what-my-father-taught-me-about-language.html)