Jacek Jachimowicz

This story takes place in Tashkent, Uzbekistan. In 1944, my grandfather Hershel Jachimowicz fell very ill. An Uzbek doctor diagnosed him with malaria and prescribed quinine, which was the only cure for the disease in those days. But the remedy didn’t matter because this doctor gave Hershel a massive overdose of the drug, and it killed my grandfather in a matter of hours. Not long before contracting malaria, Hershel was stricken with typhoid fever and survived. During his entire life, he was a very healthy man. Nobody ever remembered him having an illness, except for the time in Tashkent. A lethal cocktail of life’s misfortunes extin-guished his life: prolonged exposure to hunger, lack of hygiene, malaria, and, most of all, a mistake by the Uzbek medic. He was sixty-two years old. But this is just the beginning of the story. Click here for the whole tale.