annually in Africa, and most of them aren’t adults either.” Then the door closed with a needless bang. I remained in the seat for a few moments longer, contemplating the situation. I knew Dr. Yekwahs was grieving and also probably angry at me for embarrassing him a year earlier. I also knew he had mixed his apples and oranges rather than showing any knowledge learned in a statistics course. There was virtually no risk of malaria in Egypt anyway. But I didn’t argue. I left the exam room, his office, and the medical building. I walked to my Chevette, still thinking about Dr. Yekwahs’ illogical comments and emotional state. When I got to the side of the medical building I looked up to his fourth floor office. Despite the glare on the building from a sun peeping through grey clouds, I saw Dr. Yekwahs looking down at me through the window. Because of the distance and the reflection, or perhaps something happening to Dr. Yekwahs himself, the face appeared so strange that I began to doubt it was him. Dr. Yekwahs looked not only old, but oddly prehistoric. His face had narrowed even more since I departed his office, now as thin as Akhenaten’s, and deep indentions in his jaw reminded me of a mummy. As I watched, the face turned angry and started to wrinkle. Dr. Yekwahs’ mouth opened and his head shook
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as he shouted words I couldn’t hear. I ran around the corner of the building to my parked car and saw the newly attached, bright yellow bumper sticker: “Kids don’t let kids drive drunk.” I got in the car and sat for a moment before turning on the engine. I never mentioned the experience to anyone, and I never went back to see Dr. Yekwahs. But in the subsequent months as I began to research study abroad programs for my junior year, I remembered him many times. In fact, I still remember him. Sometimes I think about the thousands of teens, including his son, who die each year due to drunk driving. But those thoughts are usually replaced by a more vivid image of Yekwahs’ disturbing, thinning face. Then I begin to wonder how many youths die slow deaths each year, their dreams suffocated by nosey professionals and contorted minds twisting reality.