REMEMBERING HIS WORDS ON FULL-MOON NIGHTS IN ADDIS ABABA

I followed. "Dr. Stone," I said, using his title thought I longed to cry out, Father! "An operation is his only chance," I said. In my heart I knew the chances was infinitesimally small, and the first whiff of anesthesia might end it all. My father put his hand on my shoulder. He spoke to me gently, as if to a junior colleague rather than his son. "Marion, remember the Eleventh Commandment," he said. "Thou shall not operate on the day of a patient's death."