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“Waher,” I moaned, pointing to a pink pitcher on my bedside table. It was the day we were finally expecting Dr. Najjar to make an appearance. I was drooling and smacking my lips, a habit that now went on constantly, even while I slept. My dad put down his playing cards, picked up the pitcher, and walkedout to the hallway to refill it. He returned to find me staring straight ahead. It seemed as if I were sleeping with my eyes open, my tongue hanging out of my mouth. By this point, he was so used to these scenes he took it all in stride. Instead of waking me, he silently readA Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man until my mother arrived. That first Saturday, my parents finally allowed a new visitor, my cousin Hannah. Though she was shocked by what she saw when she arrived, Hannah walked in the room and sat down next to me as if she had done this every day. There in the room with my mom and Stephen, she seemed immediately at home, quiet, unassuming, and supportive. lasix picture

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