Chanlina awoke with a start to the escalating distressed squawk of chickens. She covered her ears trying not to imagine her father out in the dusty yard with his machete. Quickly the birds quieted back to their baseline clucks and trilling. She heard her father climb the stairs into the kitchen. The worst was over.

Chanlina's father and grandmother spoke a few brief words and then Chanlina drifted off back to sleep. It was Saturday and she would not have to walk the three miles through the jungle to school. She would have chores for sure, but not yet.

As she slowly awoke a few hours later delicious smells wafted in from the kitchen. Her stomach growled.

"Phnheak laeng kbal ngngouykeng, (wake up, sleepy head)," chided Chanlina's grandmother. Her grandmother was old and gray but round and boisterous. Her cooking was known to be the best throughout the village. Chanlina climbed up onto a chair and drank a glass of warm water her grandmother had set out for her.

Then Chanlina's grandmother placed her favorite breakfast in front of her and Chanlina sighed with delight.

"saum arkoun lokyeay (thank you grandmother)," said Chanlina...

...Dr. Smith was walking past room 326 when the charge nurse pulled her in.

"Here's the on-call doctor, I can ask him." She turned to Dr. Smith.

"Ms. Eng's son brought in her favorite breakfast but she is on a low-sodium diet. Can she eat it?"

Dr. Smith looked at the 86-year-old and her middle-aged son standing at his mother's bedside. The patient weighed less than 90 pounds and her medical problem list was a mile long. Yet she gave him a toothless grin.

"This is my mother's favorite breakfast. She eats it every morning."

The patient didn't wait for her doctor to answer and was already reaching for her meal with gusto.

Dr. Smith smiled imagining how this became Ms. Eng's favorite breakfast.

"Sure," he said. "How can I say 'no' to four fried chicken feet?"