Asklepios and the Athlete
    
There was once a man named Asklepios. He was the son of Apollo. Asklepios was extremely skilled at healing. Whether it was a bite from a hydra or a bad back, there was nothing Asklepios couldn’t do. Asklepios had many temples dedicated to him including the Epidaurus.
    
One day, Asklepios was mixing medicine when a patient came in. He was young but skilled at running. The man, whose name was Hippolynch, had competed in the Olympics, and just after grabbing the torch, he had tripped, causing the torch to badly injure him.
    
Asclepios told his two daughters to go fetch medicine. Hygeia traveled far to find the roots that only lady Artemis trod on that could be used to rub on the burn. Panacea found blossoms that Persephone herself grew, to make into tea. Asklepios worked all day and night to save the athlete’s life. Asklepios suspected that the fire was one of the original flames from Prometheus—brought from Hephastos in a husk. Very dangerous. Finally, his daughters were back.
    
Hygeia quietly poured the tea as Panacea prayed to the gods that her father might succeed in healing this man. But of course, Asklepios could, all the people of Greece thought. He was the one whose rumors about reversing death were whispered in every temple and marketplace. He was the one whose father was Apollo the shining. He was Asklepios, the medical wonder. Every doctoral book mentioned his name, brands of medicine were named after him, there was probably even an “Ask-Lepios” column in the newspapers.
    
Asklepios rubbed the root gel on the athlete’s back. He was a humble man, never boasting about his fame and talent. But even then, he tried to reassure himself that he could heal Hippolynch.
    
The next day, the medical bed was empty, the jars of medicine screwed on tight. Asklepios was baffled and convinced that Hippolynch had died, so he went to the Olympic games to clear his mind. The doctor was angry with himself. Never had he lost a patient! But look! Who was standing proudly with the winner’s laurel wreath? Hippolynch!