By Miriam Weiser
That day wasn’t the first time in her life that Dina entered the hospital, but it was with a different feeling. She had left the night before in a fog. It had been a fitful night, full of nightmares. Now, she was so confused that she stood by the elevator in a trance for ten minutes before she finally entered. Confusion had been a persistent presence in her life for as long as she could remember, so not all of it was new. But it sure was different.
Dina took the elevator to the eighth floor, to the Intensive Care Unit, and headed right and then down the long corridor which took her to the nurse’s station close to her husband’s private room.
“Good morning,” she said by way of catching the attention of the nurse on duty.
“Good morning, how can I help you?” The nurse, all blond and blue eyed and fresh faced as if she’d just shown up for work, smiled to her.
“I’m Dina Stark, my husband is in room 842. Can you tell me about his night?” Dina’s voice was low and soft, as though a wet ball or a hot potato was lodged inside her throat.
“Sure, let me check.” Her name tag said she was Cecilia. “Nothing remarkable. He’s fine for now.”
“Ok, thanks.”
Dina turned from the nurse’s desk and tiptoed towards the room with bubbles of angst…
