The winter in Minnesota always seems to linger on, even though it was already April. We recently had a snowstorm
that left over a foot of snow on the ground. However, the weather had been gradually warming up, and spring was
undeniably arriving. The once blanketed snow quickly melted away, and the birds in the trees had become lively.
Woodpeckers were drumming rapidly, cuckoos were singing melodiously, crows were cawing loudly, and many other
unidentified birds were either singing with abandon or whispering to each other.
One day, as I stepped out of the house, I unexpectedly startled a bird. It flew out from the Christmas wreath
hanging on the door and perched on the string of festive lights under the eaves. It looked back at me and chirped
a few times before flying away. I chuckled to myself, "Did this little fellow mistake the wreath for a real tree?"
It was not surprising though, as the wreath was made of artificial pine branches, cypress branches, pine cones,
autumn leaves, and fruits, all of which looked even greener, more realistic, and more vibrant than the real ones.
During the early spring when most trees were still bare and dull, the wreath was particularly eye-catching to the
birds. "Is this little one planning to make a home here?" The thought briefly crossed my mind, but I immediately
dismissed it as absurd.
One day, my wife said, "It's been a while since Christmas, we should take down the wreath." So I removed the
wreath and was surprised to find a bird's nest with three eggs inside. The nest was well hidden on the underside
of the wreath and was not visible from the front. No wonder I didn't notice it until I took the wreath down. "What
should we do now?" I was in a dilemma. "Of course, we can't disturb the nest and put away the wreath." I had no
choice but to hang the wreath back up, and then I went inside to tell my wife, "There's a bird's nest with three
eggs in the wreath." She thought I was joking, but I wasn't imaginative enough to come up with such a joke. I
pulled her outside to see, and she laughed when she saw it. She immediately called the children to come and see.
The children came running excitedly. My son was too small to reach the nest, so I lifted him up to see. They all
cheered with delight. The bird's nest was very small, only about the size of my cupped hand, and it was made of
thin straw woven into concentric circles, resembling a small bowl made of grass. I marveled, "This bird is so
diligent, it must have taken a lot of straw to build this nest, and yet it completed it in just a few days!" The
eggs were slightly larger than peanuts, milky white with a hint of light blue-green color, looking smooth and
shiny, with some black specks on them. They lay there so small and quiet, appearing so helpless and endearing.
The children began to plan excitedly, "Great! We can observe how bird eggs hatch into baby birds, and how the bird
mother takes care of the bird babies." I thought, "Frequent opening and closing of the door will scare the birds
away and prevent them from incubating the eggs peacefully. The wreath may also sway, posing a risk of falling on
the bird's nest." So I came up with an idea, "From now on, let's lock this door and not use it anymore. Everyone
can enter and exit the house through the garage door." Everyone readily agreed.
Early the next morning, my daughter ran downstairs to check the bird's nest and immediately exclaimed, "There's
another egg in the nest, now there are four!" Another day passed, and another egg appeared, making it five. From
then on, the number of bird eggs did not increase further. In fact, the bird's nest could hardly hold any more
eggs. The female bird seemed to lay one egg per day, based on this calculation, it probably laid the first egg
around April 20th, and then took four days to lay the remaining four eggs.
The bird was very alert, even when we entered and exited through the garage door, we often startled it. It would
fly out from the wreath and land on a nearby tree. Sometimes, we would see another bird waiting for it there, and
when it flew up, they would chirp together, hopping from branch to branch or flying from one tree to another. They
looked very happy. The other bird was probably the male bird, as its feathers were bright red. They were about the
size of sparrows, with the female bird being gray and the male bird being red.
When the bird was in the nest, I really wanted to get closer and take a good look to identify what kind of bird it
was. However, it was so alert that it wouldn't let me come close at all. "What can I do?" I came up with an idea -
to use a webcam to observe the bird's nest. "Don't I have an old webcam? Why not give it a try?" This thought
excited me, and I told the children about it, and they were also excited. Let's take action! I quickly found the
webcam from a pile of old electronic devices - it was about the size of a fist, with a wire for connecting to the
computer to control it. I placed a small table near the door in the house and put the computer on it. The webcam's
wire was not very long, only about one meter, so I added a three-meter extension cord. I hung the wreath on a
hook, and on the other end of the hook was another hook that hung on the top edge of the door. I easily hung the
webcam on the hook with the wreath, letting it dangle from the top of the wreath, with the lens facing downward
towards the bird's nest located at the bottom of the wreath. Then I threaded the webcam's wire through the gap
between the door and the door frame, brought it into the house, and fixed it on the door frame with tape, finally
connecting it to the computer.
I started up the computer and ran the software that controls the webcam. Immediately, the image of a bird's nest
appeared on the computer screen. The webcam had a great view, looking down from directly above the nest. The nest
was nestled among artificial pine branches, cedar branches, and autumn leaves, and there were five eggs lying
quietly inside. I also unexpectedly noticed that there was a lot of straw laid next to the nest. "Interesting!
Could that be the bed of the male bird? Or the place where the fledglings move after hatching?" We locked the door
again and anxiously waited in front of the computer for the birds that we scared away to return to the nest. It
didn't take long for the bird to come back, and my children and I cheered. We saw it fly into the nest, calmly
settling down, fluffing its feathers, and shaking left and right a few times to cover the eggs with its body and
bury them in its feathers. Now we finally got a clear look at what it looked like - its head and short feathers on
its body were gray-brown, the main color of its wings and tail feathers was brown with white edges, its beak was
short and black, looking powerful. I also caught a glimpse of a red shadow flashing by - that should be the male
bird.
I knew very little about birds, even less about birds in Minnesota, so even with the help of the webcam, I still
didn't know what kind of bird it was. So I searched online for many photos of birds and descriptions about them to
compare with it. I thought it resembled a waxbill to some extent, but its feathers didn't have as many patterns,
and its beak was smaller, and the color of the male bird was also not right. It also resembled a pine siskin, but
the male pine siskin is red, not yellow-green like what I saw. "Maybe it's a house finch?" But its feather
patterns were not as mottled, and the male house finch is much more brightly colored. Finally, when I saw a photo
of a male house finch, I felt that it should be a house finch, as the flash of red I saw matched, and so I
basically determined that it was a house finch. I also live streamed the bird's video to YouTube for some
colleagues to watch, and they all confidently confirmed that it should be a house finch. So I concluded that it
was undoubtedly a house finch.
I then went on to learn some information about house finches from the internet. They are a very common bird in
North America, usually found in urban or suburban areas. Adult birds are about a little over ten centimeters long
and weigh around twenty grams. They mainly feed on various grains, seeds, and berries. Unlike adult females, most
adult males have beautiful red heads, necks, and shoulders, which come from the berries and other fruits they eat.
Females usually lay eggs from February to August, laying two or more clutches of eggs each year, usually with four
or five eggs per clutch. The chicks hatch in about twelve days and then stay in the nest for another two weeks or
so. They can live for about twelve years.
Every morning, as soon as I woke up, I would turn on the computer and check the bird's nest. The female bird was
always sitting there, patiently incubating her eggs. She would bask in the bright morning light, preen her
feathers, rearrange the dry grass in the nest, shift from one end of the nest to the other, or simply sit quietly
without doing anything. Sometimes she would stand up from the nest, stretch her neck and look around, perhaps
anticipating something or checking for any potential dangers. Sometimes she would open her eyes, glance left and
right, appearing idle. Sometimes it seemed like she was looking at me, even though she couldn't actually see me,
as she was looking at the camera. Maybe she was wondering what that thing was, or perhaps she was pondering who
was spying on her from behind. Sometimes she would tilt her head on the edge of the nest, close her eyes, and take
a short nap. Other times she would simply turn her head and bury her face in her back feathers, taking a nap.
Every now and then, she would stand up and use her beak to nudge and adjust the bird eggs, possibly repositioning
them to ensure that every part of the eggs received her body heat, or maybe checking their progress to see if any
of them were about to hatch into chicks. She would also fly out every once in a while, maybe to stretch her wings
and legs or to eat something, but she would quickly fly back and resume her work.
As mentioned before, the eggs of the house finch usually hatch in about twelve days. However, it had been about
fifteen days since the first egg appeared, and there was still no sign of any movement. I was starting to worry,
"How much longer will it take for the chicks to hatch?" I thought the female bird must be worried too. But she
didn't seem to be in a hurry at all. She continued to sit there calmly and patiently, full of anticipation,
diligently incubating her eggs. I even felt sorry for her - she had worked so hard to lay and incubate the eggs,
but in the end, it might all be in vain.
However, I was feeling somewhat hopeless. One day, when I came home from work and turned on my computer, I was
pleasantly surprised to find a pile of fleshy pink things wiggling and moving in my nest. Obviously, they were
newly hatched chicks. To put it bluntly, they could easily be described as "bloody and fleshy." I couldn't tell
which was the head, which was the body, or which were the feet. I couldn't even count how many chicks there were.
However, I noticed that there were still two eggs left in the nest, so I deduced that three chicks had hatched.
The next day, one more egg was missing, and the pile of flesh had grown a bit bigger, but it was even more chaotic
and hard to distinguish because another chick had hatched. The fifth egg never hatched, and I'm not sure where it
went in the end, but that's another story. I was curious: "Where did the eggshells from the hatched chicks go? Did
they stay in the nest?" It shouldn't be possible, as it could potentially harm the fragile bodies of the chicks.
"Or did the female bird carry them out and throw them away?" But I didn't see any eggshells near the nest or on
the ground below. "Maybe the female bird carried them far away and threw them?" "Or did the female bird eat them?"
I know that some birds eat the eggshells to replenish the calcium they lost from laying eggs. In any case, it
became an interesting mystery.
Every day, the female bird continued to stay in the nest as usual. Sometimes it would nestle on top of the chicks
to keep them warm, but now it wasn't as easy as before. Before settling down, it had to figure out where to place
its large feet so as not to accidentally injure the delicate flesh of the chicks. Its feet would shift back and
forth along the edge of the nest, unsure of where to place them, appearing somewhat clumsy. In the end, it often
had to hook its feet onto the edge of the nest and then squat down to gently cover the chicks with its body. This
should have been an uncomfortable position for it. Sometimes it would clean the down feathers of the chicks, but
the chicks didn't seem to appreciate its kindness, chirping and squirming, perhaps complaining that its actions
were too rough. Sometimes it would clean the nest, using its beak to pluck and pick here and there, occasionally
picking up something to eat. The male bird also appeared more frequently. Its beautiful feathers made every
appearance a stunning sight. Sometimes it would flash into the scene from the branches near the nest and feed the
female bird. The female bird seemed happy, fluttering its wings lightly and chirping softly - it was truly a
heartwarming scene.
Although male birds also fed their young, the majority of the work was done by female birds. When the female or
male bird flew back to the nest, several small beaks would protrude from the mass of flesh, eagerly stretching and
gaping, waiting to be fed. These little beaks had a yellow edge, with a fleshy red throat further inside, making
it easy to distinguish one chick from another by their gaping yellow mouths. They looked like ugly little
monsters, with sparse hairs on their heads, a bare patch on top of their heads, and sparse fuzz on their wings and
bellies, necks and backs exposed with bare flesh. Watching them flap their nearly featherless wings was somewhat
amusing. Their eyes were swollen and black, disproportionately large, and tightly shut. They opened their mouths
wide, chirping and stretching their necks, wobbling their mouths up and down, waiting for the female or male bird
to feed them. Their straight necks, supporting their oversized heads, created a striking contrast, with the neck
appearing slender and the head appearing disproportionately large, surprising that the former could support the
latter. The female or male bird would regurgitate food and feed each chick one by one. After a few rounds of
feeding, the crop, a sac in their necks used for storing food, would swell. Once they were full, they would start
to excrete waste. One by one, the chicks would raise their tiny bottoms, perch on the edge of the nest, and
release a piece of feces with a "plop." They seemed to know not to soil the nest, as the female or male bird would
immediately consume the waste, leaving no trace behind. For the chicks that didn't excrete, the bird would gently
nudge or stimulate them to encourage the process. It was a nauseating sight, but it filled me with respect for the
female and male birds - they had no other choice but to maintain cleanliness in the nest, reduce the growth of
bacteria, and minimize the risk of disease for their four young chicks. What a daunting task it was!
The young birds grew day by day. Many black short hairs grew in many places, covering the pink flesh. Rows of
small feathers grew on their wings and tails, making them look like beautiful birds instead of ugly little
monsters. The small bird's nest became overcrowded, with birds pushing and jostling inside - one's head resting on
another's back, one's wings covering another's head, one's tail facing another's mouth, or one simply perched on
another, ignoring the struggling, calling, and protesting of the other. However, gradually, the young birds below
almost stopped complaining - perhaps they realized that complaining seemed to be of no use, or perhaps they found
it nice to have a furry thing on top of them, like a warm blanket. They also excreted more, as the female bird
apparently could not bear the burden anymore with the male bird rarely sharing the duty of cleaning, and feces
accumulated around the nest. I started to worry, "When the young birds leave the nest, will the wreath become
filthy, with a foul smell, and I will have to discard it and buy a new one for the next Christmas?" The female
bird spent less and less time in the nest, maybe because the weather had warmed up and the young birds had grown
enough feathers so they didn't need her to keep them warm anymore, or maybe because the young birds had bigger
appetites and she had to spend more time outside looking for food for them, or maybe because the young birds had
filled up the nest completely and there was hardly any room left for her to perch. At night, she seemed to stay
outside instead of returning to the nest.
Seven or eight days after hatching, the young birds began to open their eyes and started to observe the world
around them in a dazed manner. They looked really cute, and sometimes I couldn't help but touch their small heads
when the female bird and the male bird were not around. The short black hairs on their heads were smooth and soft,
and felt really nice to touch. Some of the young birds were dozing with their eyes closed and showed no reaction
to my touch, some blinked their eyes indifferently and didn't mind my touch, and some thought it was feeding time
again and eagerly opened their mouths to peck at my fingers. I also wanted to feed them some food, but I didn't
know their diet and didn't dare to feed them randomly, fearing that I might harm them, so I had to give up. After
a few more days, the young birds were no longer as impulsive, but became very cautious - when I appeared, they
huddled together and remained motionless, silent. Obviously, they regarded me as a potential danger, and
immediately becoming quiet was probably their strategy for dealing with danger. When I touched the young birds,
sometimes the female bird and the male bird would fly over, nervously flying around in the nearby air, constantly
chirping - apparently warning me to stay away from their young. Despite their warning, I tried my best to take
care of the young birds and make sure they were safe and comfortable in the nest. The young birds also became
active again.
About two weeks after hatching, the young birds had grown their feathers quite well. They often hopped onto the
edge of the nest, using their beaks to groom their feathers or scratching themselves with their feet. They would
also poke their heads out and look around, sometimes even hopping onto nearby branches to flap their wings rapidly
and practice flying. One day, I suddenly noticed that one of the nestlings was missing. "Where did it go?" I
wondered. I carefully checked the bottom of the nest and looked through the peephole at other places in the
wreath, but it was nowhere to be found. "It might have spread its wings and flown away," I thought. Sometimes I
saw three birds hopping around on a tree nearby, although they were too far away to see clearly, they were likely
the female bird, the male bird, and the fledgling that had just left the nest. After a while, I saw one of the
remaining three nestlings suddenly startled and flew out of the nest with a fluttering sound, leaving only two
nestlings behind. Flying seemed to be a natural skill for birds, and the young birds didn't seem to practice much,
but in the blink of an eye, they started flying away one by one. The female bird and the male bird didn't forget
to return to the nest to feed the two remaining chicks. They also frequently flew to the top of the wreath,
hopping around and singing loudly, seemingly encouraging the remaining two nestlings to gather their courage and
fly out of the nest into the outside world. The young birds also became excited, flapping their wings and eager to
fly, but in the end, they couldn't muster the courage and returned to the nest. Early the next morning, when I
opened the door to retrieve the wreath, I found that the nest was empty and the two remaining nestlings had flown
away. I wasn't surprised as I had expected them to leave soon. Within just one or two days, all four nestlings had
flown out of the nest and into the vast world outside. "It's time to take down the wreath," I said to myself. Just
as I was opening the door to retrieve the wreath, I heard the familiar chirping again. It turned out that the
female bird and the male bird had flown to the nearby flower tree, calling out and looking towards here - clearly,
they were still attached to their nest. I felt a bit guilty, but I steeled myself and took down the wreath.
Counting the days, it had been over four weeks since I discovered the nest. During this time, my children and I
had been eagerly anticipating the hatching of the baby birds and watching them grow. Now that they had flown away,
my heart felt a bit empty. However, thinking that they were now soaring freely under the blue sky and white
clouds, or basking in the morning light, or flying and singing among the lush trees and flowers, my heart felt
relieved, and I sincerely wished them happiness.
The day my father left
His cat was also gone
One day I visited his grave
I saw in a trance
It curled up on his tomb
Just like before, keeping him company in his bed
Once my father left
He moved into my dreams
He has been living there for twenty years
In the early morning, his cigarette
Flickers in the darkness
Followed by a spell of coughing
His cat, on the bed
Enjoys the accustomed bumps
I grow older and older
My father remains unchanged
Even his hair is still black
We are becoming more like brothers
It's the Lunar New Year
Tonight, I'm having a drink with him
Superior Lake at sunset
Is a passionate woman.
In her calm and broad bosom
Is love more gorgeous than the burning clouds.
Wearing diamonds of sunlight,
She rushes toward her lover¹ on the shore.
He is rocky and towering.
Her arms of waves wrap around his neck.
Hair of seaweeds rubs his chest.
Whispers of love words echo in his ears.
But he is hard and cold.
Her affection is smashed into tears of spindrift.
Cold-hearted lover,
With the teeth of my tears,
I will bite you.
Bite you slowly
For ten thousand years,
Leaving dense marks of my tears over you!
When washing lettuce,
Put aside a leaf -
He loves fresh and tender lettuce.
When taking it to the cage,
I realize he is gone.
Sunlight is good in the room.
Tia² is waiting there.
When fetching Jordan's cage,
I realize he is no longer there.
The bedding is fresh,
the food half left,
and the water still full.
He does not need these anymore.
He died last night,
without making a sound.
The body was once round,
now light as a feather.
He is buried
under the tree in the backyard,
by his little old buddy, Foxx.
Seven years of company
turns into a little miss.
When missing about him,
I would pay a visit under that tree.
Someone’s name was carved on my chest.
It is no longer there.
A faint scar is still in my heart.
An old song,
an old photo,
or a piece of news,
may pull it,
making the pain fresh as new.
I Want to
In the time of coronavirus pandemic
Owen Zhao
March 28, 2020
Black dandelions¹ are bustling.
Seeds of death are dancing.
Frightened people are fleeing.
Where can they escape?
A bird nest sits on the tree.
Small heads are throbbing.
I want to turn into a bird,
and be their neighbor——
Birds are not afraid of
black dandelions.
In the blue sky are wild geese
gliding gracefully towards north.
I want to be one of them,
and fly to the North Pole——
No one is there.
The cloud is high and far.
I want to ride on it,
and float to a desert,
or an island——
Dandelion seeds can not get there.
Stars in the sky
are shiner than usual.
The full Moon
is brighter than before.
I want to fly there——
There are no dandelions.
I want to hide into
a painting on the wall,
the story of a book,
the world of a movie,
the life of the past,
or the future,
but not the present——
Here,
black dandelions are everywhere,
and seeds of death chasing people.
¹: Black dandelions refer to coronavirus due to their similar looks.
It was a beautiful Spring Saturday. There was nothing but bright sunshine, blue sky and warm breeze. It was so
inviting outside and how could we stay at home? We drove to North Lotus Lake Park, a park not far from our house.
There was a soccer field, a large grass field, a tennis court, and a playground up a small hill. A trail curved
around the park. A small woods was on the far side of the park then a big lake beyond it. The dark blue water of
the lake was sparkling like diamonds under the sun. Trees scattered here and there over the park. The trees were
still gray and the grass just started to turn green.
A flock of little birds were chirping and fluttering across the park. High above them was an eagle soaring in the
sky. An airplane was flying by, reflecting the sunlight so bright like a fire.
A lady was sitting under a tree, looking far away, with her long hair waving in the breeze. After a while, she lay
back on the grass, basking in the sun, probably falling into sleep. Not far from her was a hammock rocking between
two trees.
A father and a son were flying frisbee in the field. It spinned in the air like a saucer. Would it be wonderful to
ride a saucer and shoot into space?
A couple was playing tennis in the court, with their dog running around and chasing the ball.
On the trail, some people were paddling bikes with a leisurely pace. A family, two parents and a little girl in
the middle, hand in hand, was walking. A boy with a stick in his hands, searching along the creek by the trail,
like in a treasure hunt. Beyond the trail, on the road, a group of cyclists was riding by like a swift wind.
On the playground, some kids were swinging high into the air, some chasing one another, some sliding, some
climbing like monkeys. Their parents were standing by or sitting on a bench, and talking . The laughters and
screams of the kids rolled down the hill to every corner of the park.
Sundenly there was a buzz from the sky. It was a mini drone flying about over the park. It caught the attention of
the kids on the playground. They ran down the hill after it. They were jumping up and down and screaming to it.
They even threw sticks up to the air, trying to knock it down.
A couple of years ago, kids asked if they could have a dog. Looking into their eyes, full of expectation, I almost
rushed “Yes!” out of my mouth. But a slight uneasiness held me back. I was concerned that they may not realize
what it actually meant to have a dog. It was fun of course, but more an obligation at the same time. I asked them
to do some research then give me a report about anything about having a dog, particularly how they planned to take
care of it, not just playing with it, but more importantly, how to take good care of it: feeding, walking,
bathing, grooming, taking to pee, picking up its poop, seeing vet.
Quickly they found out it would be too much for them to take care of a dog. They decided to take a step back and
have something smaller. A few days later, they turned in a report about having a guinea pig as a pet. They were
confident that they could take good care of it. They even swore by having their hands on their chests. How could I
turn them down? We bought a pair of guinea pigs, along with many supplies: cage, pen, hay, food, snack, bowl,
water bottle, bedding, even vitamin C, toys, nail cutter, comb. They also gave them names, Jordan and Foxx.
For the first few months, they took good care of them. They played with them for hours every day, refilled their
bowl with food way before it got empty, refilled their bottle with water and vitamin C, changed their bedding very
often to keep it clean and cozy, and groomed their furs to make them look neat and nice. However, gradually they
lost their interest to guinea pigs. A few months later, they barely played with them, sometimes even forgot to
refill their bowl and water bottle. I had to constantly reminded them. I finally had to make a deal with them: If
they missed a meal for the guinea pigs, they had to skip a meal for themselves; If they missed refilling the water
bottle for the guinea pigs, they had to skip a glass of milk too for themselves. This helped and I could just
relax on the couch watching them busy taking care of the guinea pigs.
Later on, they asked for a dog and they swore they were ready. While the guinea pigs were expected to live for
four to five more years according to their report, they had to wait for that many years before having a dog.
Doctor Fails to Warn Patient of Side Effects
Owen Zhao
September 1, 2009
I am an MU student. This May, I had diarrhea for about ten days. It was uncomfortable but not that bad. I went to
the Student Health Center and was prescribed Ciprofloxacin for five days, without any tests. This brought me a
pure nightmare afterwards.
A few days after finishing the medicine, I experienced severe knee pain, tendon pain in the right leg and hip. I
had been an active person and had never experienced such problems. I immediately suspected it was the medicine.
I referred to the drug inserts and found this medicine can cause serious tendon problems. I also searched the
Internet and was totally shocked. So many people have been crippled for months, years or even permanently after
taking this medicine. Many of them had only minor infections.
For me, things just got worse. I began to develop many new symptoms: pain in my feet, ankles, calves, knees, back,
arms, shoulders and neck; tingling in my legs and hands; numbness in my feet and hands; scary finger-shaking and
muscle-twitching. I still have these problems even today, three months after stopping the medicine. I have huge
difficulties with nearly all normal activities: walking, driving, working, cooking and shopping.
Running, which was one of my favorite sports, now can happen only in my dreams. This also caused huge frustrations
for my daughter and wife. I can barely hold my daughter for seconds — I often let her ride on my shoulders before.
I cannot take her fishing or play other sports (except swimming). I told her Daddy was crippled by a bad doctor
with bad medicine and hoped she could understand. My wife has to do most of the housework.
I went to see the same doctor a few times. But I soon found destroying was what she was able to do, and repairing
really exceeds her capability. I quit her treatment to avoid further possible harm to my already very deteriorated
health.
As a previously active person, becoming crippled made me feel humiliated and angry. It was really a shame for me
to put my life in the hands of such an unknowledgeable and careless doctor. Why did she put me on such a toxic
medicine before trying other safer antibiotics? Why did she give me such a powerful poison just for a minor
infection? Why did not she warn me about these nasty, delayed side effects while prescribing this poison to me?
She kept telling me this was a good medicine for diarrhea, even though she had a patient who had experienced a
similar reaction to this medicine. I wish she would take this poison someday and see what happens next.
Life was a joy, but now every day is a struggle. I loved to run, but now my favorite activity is lying in bed. I
was a man, a father and a husband, but now I am a baby.
Thank you, doc. You made me realize a bad doctor with bad medicine can be devastating to a patient. Thank you,
doc. You made me realize that the drug inserts may not tell you the truth about the medicines. Thank you, doc. You
also made me realize the Food and Drug Administration seems more willing to protect drug companies' profits rather
than public health.
I will spread the word to as many people as possible: My tragedy can happen to anyone. Cherish your life. Keep
away from bad doctors. Keep away from bad medicines. Bad doctors are not health care providers, but instead are
disease providers. They have a special capability of making a minor problem become very serious and even
disastrous. Bad medicines are poisons rather than medicines. Our lives will be much simpler, safer and happier
without them.
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