There I am, the boy on the right, crying while my mom holds my little brother.
My mother treated me as if I were made of glass. She was always cautious and forever worried about me.
I was that child who caught every bug. The slightest change in weather or a minor cold would knock me down.
As I grew, so did the list of diagnoses, Ross River fever, Whooping cough, Glandular fever, Cytomegalovirus, Lyme disease…
You name it, I probably had it.