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One of the remarkable things about Dr. Najjar was his very personal, heartfelt bedside manner. He had an intense sympathy for the weak and powerless, which, as he told me later, came from his own experiences as a little boy growing up in Damascus, Syria. He had done poorly in school, and his parents and teachers had considered him lazy. When he was ten, after he failed test after test in his private Catholic school, his principal had told his parents that he was beyond help:“Education is not for everyone. Maybe it would be best for him to learn a trade.” Angry as he was, his father didn’t want to stop his schooling—education was far too important—so although he didn’t have high hopes, he put his son in public school instead.
prescription for clomid viagra levitra Ejub stayed at the bus station to smoke a few cigarettes with a friend whose wife had also left, and then he went home to sleep. Loneliness overcame him. Two days later, April 17, 1992, he went to spend the night at his best friend’s house in Potoc?ari.
