When I opened my eyes again, all I saw was a plain white ceiling.
The sharp smell of disinfectant had faded, replaced by a faint, cool wood scent.
The room's temperature control system hummed, and rows of unfamiliar high-tech machines blinked their small lights.
This was not the public hospital back home.
The second my senses cleared, I tried to feel my legs.
There was nothing at all. It was like everything below my knees had been cut off from my brain.
I tried to move my feet, but they wouldn't budge.
Just as despair started to sink in, a faint dull ache stirred deep inside my thighs.
It was barely there, yet it felt like a lifeline.
"Take it easy." A low, gentle voice came from beside the bed.
I knew that voice very well.
I turned my head and saw the man sitting in an armchair
