lower it more just like I had been taught to do in the
hospital. Then, following the steps I had learned at the
therapy center, pulled myself up in the chair, braced
myself on my right leg and swung myself onto the
mattress. But I had not pulled the blanket far enough
down and I was lying on top of it. Awkwardly. I
rolled myself over and then worked it away, Now. I
had to take off my shoes. Cupping my thigh. I pulled
my leg up and strained to get the shoe off. It was
suddenly so exhausting. I lost my breath and fell back
against the pillow. My leg dropped like a leaden pipe,
sending a spasm of pain up the sides of my back. I
held down my scream and sucked in my moan. A moment later I heard Mrs. Bogart return with
my things and put them down. She came to the bed. "Well, that's good," she said. Without asking if
I needed her or wanted her to. She proceeded to take off my shoes and help me sit up, moving me around as if I was nothing more than an inflatable doll. She brought the blanket up, straightened the pillow, and lowered me to it. "Get some rest. I'll make you some
lunch.
"Oh, that driver said he'd be back to see you.
but I told him to wait a day or two," she said. "A day, or two? Why?"
"You got to get into a schedule before you start
hosting visitors.
The therapist is coming in the morning. I don't
know what his schedule will be with you vet and we
don't want your rest to be disturbed. You need to save
strength for the therapy. I don't have to say believe
me," she added, not letting me forget I had dared to
criticize her expression. "You already know that from
being in the hospital."
"Have I had any mail or any phone calls?" I
asked her quickly before she left.
"I only been here a day before you come." she