On Being a Doctor16 September 2014
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    Early one morning I got the news of my mother's admission to the hospital. My drive to see her was quiet and solemn. The trees were leaning forward with the weight of snow, almost forming an arch over some parts of the road. The scene was enchanting as well as terrifying, as I thought of my non–English-speaking mother, my pillar of strength, hunched over in pain and fear in a hospital room. I thought of how much she must need me now, her oldest daughter. Among her siblings, she is the only one in the United States.

    She immigrated to ...