A Fevered Response

(When I was born, I had a reasonable sized birthmark on my belly but the doctors assured my parents it would be gone by the time I was ready for bikinis. While on a trip I suddenly run a fever of 41 degr C/106 degr F. In a panic, my parents go to the nearest doctor.)

Doctor: *lifting my shirt to start his examination* “Oh, my god, what a birthmark. How old is your daughter?”

Mum: “Six months. What is wrong with her?”

Doctor: “You are very bad parents; this should have been taken care of. How will she feel being teased with it?”

Mum: “We were told it wouldn’t be a problem. Now, how about her fever?”

Doctor: “This thing is to be surgically removed.”

Mum: “And I would like her to be alive. What about the fever?”

(The doctor kept on ranting about my birthmark, ignoring my condition. My parents cut their trip short and drove 150 km to our regular GP. As it happened, five other babies had unexplained high fever. Despite being the smallest and the sickest, I was the only one to be alive the next morning. And by the age of six, my birthmark disappeared as promised, without surgery.)