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gone to a doctor was the time he d caught malaria in India。
Then； two weeks later； I caught him coughing a wad of blood…stained phlegm into the toilet。
How long have you been doing that？ I said。
What s for dinner？ he said。
I m taking you to the doctor。
Even though Baba was a manager at the gas station； the owner hadn t offered him health insurance； and Baba； in his recklessness； hadn t insisted。 So I took him to the county hospital in San Jose。 The sallow； puffy…eyed doctor who saw us introduced himself as a second…year resident。 He looks younger than you and sicker than me； Baba grumbled。 The resident sent us down for a chest X…ray。 When the nurse called us back in； the resident was filling out a form。
Take this to the front desk； he said； scribbling quickly。
What is it？ I asked。
A referral。 Scribble scribble。
For what？
Pulmonary clinic。
What s that？
He gave me a quick glance。 Pushed up his glasses。 Began scribbling again。 He s got a spot on his right lung。 I want them to check it out。
A spot？ I said； the room suddenly too small。
Cancer？ Baba added casually。
Possible。 It s suspicious； anyway； the doctor muttered。
Can t you tell us more？ I asked。
Not really。 Need a CAT scan first； then see the lung doctor。 He handed me the referral form。 You said your father smokes； right？
Yes。
He nodded。 Looked from me to Baba and back again。 They ll call you within two weeks。
I wanted to ask him how I was supposed to live with that word； suspicious； for two whole weeks。 How was I supposed eat； work； study？ How could he send me home with that word？
I took the form and turned it in。 That night； I waited until Baba fell asleep； and then folded a blanket。 I used it as a prayer rug。 Bowing my head to the ground； I recited half…forgotten verses from the Koran……verses the mullah had made us mit to memory in Kabul……and asked for kindness from a God I wasn t sure existed。 I envied the mullah now； envied his faith and certainty。
Two weeks passed and no one called。 And when I called them； they told me they d lost the referral。 Was I sure I had turned it in？ They said they would call in another three weeks。 I raised hell and bargained the three weeks down to one for the CAT scan； two to see the doctor。
The visit with the pulmonologist； Dr。 Schneider； was going well until Baba asked him where he was from。 Dr。 Schneider said Russia。 Baba lost it。
Excuse us； Doctor； I said； pulling Baba aside。 Dr。 Schneider smiled and stood back； stethoscope still in hand。
Baba； I read Dr。 Schneider s biography in the waiting room。 He was born in Michigan。 Michigan！ He s American； a lot more American than you and I will ever be。
I don t care where he was born； he s Roussi； Baba said； grimacing like it was a dirty word。 His parents were Roussi； his grandparents were Roussi。 I swear on your mother s face I ll break his arm if he tries to touch me。
Dr。 Schneider s parents fled from Shorawi； don t you see？ They escaped！
But Baba would hear none of it。 Sometimes I think the only thing he loved as much as his late wife was Afghanistan； his