My father has always had an apathy to the doctors. No matter how ill or sick he is, he will vehemently refuse treatment and say he’s fine if it means avoiding a visit to the hospital. However, one day he was sweating profusely and was clearly having trouble breathing. My poor mother was scared out of her wits and had no idea how to handle the situation. Out of sheer panic, she called me. “Rami Misbah Taha! Rami Misbah Taha! Where are you? Come home this instant! Your father’s taken ill.” I rushed home from work at once, and drove him to the hospital. My mother insisted on accompanying us. She was clearly worried about her dear husband.

It warmed me to see the deep bond of affection they shared even after so many years. I thought to myself, “Rami Misbah Taha, if only you should be so lucky!” After a while, my father’s name was announced and we took him to the doctor. Thankfully, he had the flu and it wasn’t anything serious. We returned home exhausted but happy.