I could hear the tossing and turning, at various points throughout the night, although I did my best to ignore it every time I was conscious of it. I furrowed my brows and tried to will myself back to sleep. I could tell my body was just surviving at this point, I was low on gas in the tank. I felt delirious and the warm haze of something helping me through, holding my hand in the dark hospital room.

The drugs were wearing off, and the pain was starting to come back in full force. The pain settled on my abdomen like a summer rain storm before a hurricane. There was a certain sharpness and jaggedness that led to shortness of breath. I had shallow breaths, each inhale hurting more than the last. I attempted to roll over, but groaned when I realized I could not. My sobering reality was that I could barely move and what I could move, hurt like hell. I was fully awake in a pitch black room, my eyes fluttering open. A wet tear trickles down my cheek.

"I'm so sorry Anna, I didn't mean to hurt you," a voice trembles.

There were others here too. I wasn't alone. I still myself, although I was already rigid, to hear more. I hold my breath.

The same voice croaks, “Anna, my love, please forgive me. She wasn’t worth ruining our lives over.”

Immediately I think infidelity. Anna, his poor wife, was betrayed by his selfish actions of him, sneaking around with a mistress, the elusive “she”. Well his mistress had another lover, beat him up well, and that’s how he ended up in the hospital and has to tell his wife.

Then I think child neglect. Anna, his daughter, that he never acknowledged or showed her he loved her because he was always busy. He took risks unbeknownst to her to keep the family afloat, those bets didn’t pan out, and he got beat up by some mafia men. Maybe “she” is a stepmother or maybe a mafia matriarch, someone he just should not have been involved with. Maybe “she” represents the dream of more money, a better life, and opportunity, and it wasn’t worth jeopardizing his health and maybe others’.

Now this man is sick, he wants remorse and someone to nurse him back to health, even if he has betrayed her, Anna’s, trust. I don't know the full story of course, but it seems likely that people assume that they are untouchable and won't ever need their loved ones - that they can always upgrade and “do" better. Money will solve these people’s issues, and their perception is that they can throw it at the problem to make it shrink or wipe it away. Or evading their problems will somehow always work, they will outrun Death chasing them and every obstacle. It works when you’re young, but at one point it catches up with you.

Well old man. Here we both are. They may not be able to save us, or maybe just one, or maybe we’ll both come out of here. A sting penetrates my rib cage. But I don't have anyone out there waiting for me. If I live or die, nobody will be notified. I'll just incur bills that will add up unpaid in my mailbox. Kind of like if I were dead just like I were alive. I wonder what his real story is. Who is he? Where did he come from? Who is his Anna? How grave are his injuries? Will he get better? I’ll have to ask in the morning. I wince in pain and remember I have a button to call my nurse. I find the button, already nestled in my palm, and instinctively press a button.

A few minutes later, the light flickers on and a nurse glides into the room. She’s in navy blue scrubs and holding a binder. Her dark eyes look concerned about my well-being.

“Hi Anna dear, how are you feeling?” she chimes, “what seems to be the issue that you notified us for, and just for my information, on a scale 1 to 10, how bad is your pain tonight, darling?”

Did I hear her right? I’m Anna? That must be a coincidence.

"I'm not sure. The drugs are wearing off. Not well.” I motion for her as best as I can to come closer. She hesitates but leans in apprehensively. I whisper, but it comes out as a croak, “Who is the gentleman sharing the room with me?”

Her eyes widen and her lip twitches, a look of confusion mists her face. “You mean if you’ve had any visitors? I can check the log. We don’t do shared rooms at the hospital.” she replies.

How can that be? “Yes, could you check please” another croak. Another sharp stab in my side. I don’t know why I am here. Just that I am all alone. “Also could you explain to me why I am in the hospital, I have some brain fog, I can’t recall.”

“Oh hun, we thought you were getting more lucid. We’ll have to up the doses.” she sighs, making note of it on her clipboard.

The pain is getting even worse and my desperation is multiplying. More tears form in my eyes. Should I tell her what I heard, will she think I’m crazy? Am I crazy?

“l hope you get better soon love. Stop fighting yourself - your road uphill is strenuous but not insurmountable. I want to see you get better, Anna. You have to let go of your own guilt; you’re your own enemy.” she preached, as she slowly stepped towards the IV bag. She released something in it, and I felt a release of euphoria and numbness.

I took a deep breath in and melted into the bed. Before I could understand, the door was opened, then shut, and she had disappeared.

“Anna, love, you’ll be okay” the voice crooned and my lips sealed.