guardrail.
No one knew exactly what forced me off the road.
Police initially considered weather, speed, mechanical failure, and
another vehicle.
I remembered none of it.
Daniel Mercer was one of the nurses assigned to my floor.
He was thirty-three.
Calm.
Patient.
Annoyingly observant.
The first time he helped me stand with a walker, I cried from pain and
embarrassment.
He said:
“You’re allowed to hate this.”
“I do.”
“Good.”
“That was easy.”
He smiled.
“Next step is harder.”
“What?”
“Doing it anyway.”
I did.
Daniel never flirted while I was his patient.
That mattered later.
At the time, I simply noticed he spent a little longer explaining
things.
He found extra pillow when my back hurt.
He remembered I hated apple juice.
He made sure physical therapy knew I became dizzy when standing too
quickly.
But there was something else.
Sometimes I woke and found him near the doorway.
