Behind the Curtain of the Clinic.

"Keep his head cool! Let's go!" My mother strained her voice above the cries of the boy and his parents as they prepared to leave for the hospital. Sitting uncomfortably on the bed, I peered through the small holes on the white curtain at the aging farmers with panicked eyes. A cold wind rushed in as my mother opened the door and ushered them out of the Hanoi Emergency Clinic, where she received cases during her nightshifts.
An only child of a divorced doctor, I accompanied her four nights a month to the clinic, a fifteen feet by ten feet room with the acrid smells of alcohol and antibiot…