I woke disoriented.
Details flooded back. My body remembered searing agony.
“Remember to breathe.”
I peeked at my wrist. The needle, encased in Tegaderm and tape, confirmed I should be feeling no pain.
This was the price for not listening and disregarding the instructions.
The tv droned. I know I told them to turn it off. My lunch tray held a carton of milk, a cup of pudding, and a frosted container of ice cream, designed to tempt me.
Shaking my head, I pushed it aside. How many times must I tell them I am lactose intolerant? No, not kidding.