Once, when I was nine years old, I came down with a horrible case of tonsillitis. I remember going to the doctor, (something that was rare in my family; you only went if you were really sick) feeling miserable and scared, but also knowing that this man would have somehow fix me. As he declared his verdict regarding my illness, and took out his prescription pad, he asked my mother "Is your daughter allergic to any medications?" My mom allowed for a moment, and I looked at her questioningly. Was I allergic to anything? This seemed really important. What if I was? What would happen to me? My mother said no, the prescription was written and we were sent home.
That evening after taking my antibiotic, I began to shake uncontrollably. I complained of an immense headache and continued shaking as my mother held me. She did not seem very … Read More