“Do you want help dressing?”
I look at the pretty nurse with suspicion in my eye because I don’t know her. I don’t see an ulterior motive, however. But regardless, I shake my head.
With unsteady fingers, I fasten the buttons on my blue cardigan. The color matches my summer dress. I don’t know whose garments these are, but I woke to them spread out on the end of my bed. Apparently, hospital gowns aren’t appropriate attire for an outing in town.
I was thankful the nurse gave me a brush, as I can’t remember the last time I brushed my hair. Or wore shoes, for that matter. I can’t remember much of anything.
The only thing which stands out is the agonizing pain in my head as my brain scrambled for air. I quickly brush away a runaway tear because I don’t want to cry. Well, I don’t think I do.
