Irina
With a frustrated snort, I gazed at the seemingly endless flight of stairs that stood between me and the ground floor. My muscles were screaming in protest, even though I was descending on a downward slope. The exhaustion from my physical therapy sessions had seeped into every fiber of my being, yet I was grateful to be back home instead of confined to the sterile walls of the hospital.
Gripping tightly onto the railing for support, I leaned against it as dizziness threatened to overwhelm me. This was only my second time navigating the stairs since being discharged, but I had pushed myself to adapt quickly. Deep down, I knew I shouldn't have rushed my recovery and ignored the doctor's recommendations, but after three long months of being immobile, I was desperate to regain control
