Doctor: 'Every Patient Is A Walking Poem'
On the morning of my seventh birthday my hands trembled as I tore the wrapping paper from a big box. Dad was beaming with the sort of smile that meant I was about to be spoiled rotten. Finally, I thought, a friend for my Barbie Nurse with her crisp, white cap and hot water bottle.
Leah Kaminsky | Posted 05.19.2012