A pediatrician takes pride in her Afghan cabdriver father – latimes.com. In the morning, before my father and I go our separate ways to work, we chat amiably. “Good luck on your day.” “Hope business is good.” And our one response to everything: “Inshallah.” God willing. I get into my mini-SUV and head off to the hospital, groaning about the lack of sleep, the lack of time, but also knowing that I am driving off to what has always been my dream. My father gets into his blue taxi, picks up his radio and tells the dispatcher he’s ready. Then…