The first time I left my hospital room, my family gently pushed my wheelchair down the long blank hallways, out the door, and into the sunshine.
Immediately I tightened the blankets around me, ensuring they kept every inch of me covered. Except, it was summertime, and I was now in Southern Florida — not the type of weather that requires an extra layer.
I hadn’t been outside for over a month, in fact, I hadn’t even seen the sunshine from a window. I’d been in ICU rooms where days and nights blurred together until I was so disoriented that I napped through the days and laid wide awake each night, completely alone with my thoughts and fears as visiting hours were then over.
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