“It all began with a low-grade fever that refused to go away, along with a strange swelling in my thigh. My symptoms multiplied to include a rash, any number of aches and pains, and finally, an overwhelming sense of lethargy that seemed entirely at odds with the playful child I had been. Friends and well-wishers inundated us with advice, from crude homemade remedies to the latest scientific therapies. Mom’s favorite seamstress prescribed a poultice that was to be applied on my leg at least once ...a night. Before I went to bed, a smelly concoction of warm dough, mustard, vinegar, and herbs was placed on me for an hour or two, or until I got too fidgety and yanked it off. A series of doctors descended on Malaka Nazli to administer injections, as well as prescribing an array of strange pills and potions. My sister Suzette, who dreamed of medical school but settled for a job teaching kindergarten at the Lycée Français de Bab-el-Louk, suggested finding a top specialist, someone with offices en ville—preferably a European—as no one my parents had brought in met with her approval.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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