I remember when my brother was sick. At first, we tried to handle it ourselves, buying the usual cough syrup and tablets we thought would work. We believed it was just another common cold, something we could fix without much worry. But instead of getting better, the cough grew worse.
Out of concern, we went to a pharmacist. We explained how it began, how it had now grown into something frightening. The pharmacist listened carefully, gave us a syrup and some tablets, and even suggested a place we could take him if things became unbearable. We felt reassured for a while, as though the storm had calmed.
But when we returned home and he began the new treatment, things did not improve. In fact, they grew darker. His cough deepened, his strength drained, and the day he coughed up blood, fear seized us completely. At that moment, we knew we had reached the end of what we could do on our own.
So, we turned to the hospital. And there, the doctors became our lawyers of last resort. They listened, examined, tested, and fought not just against the sickness, but against our despair. Unlike us, they had the tools, the knowledge, and the courage to confront what we could not.
Thanks for reading
@ritaetim
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