PART 1 — ELEVEN DAYS

When I opened my eyes, I didn’t know where I was.

The ceiling was white.

That was the first thing I noticed.

My bedroom ceiling at home had a water stain in one corner shaped vaguely like Ohio.

I had been meaning to paint over it for three years and had somehow convinced myself the stain gave the room character.

This ceiling had no stain.

There was a steady electronic beeping to my left.

Something tugged against the skin on the back of my hand.

When I tried to breathe deeply, pain spread across my chest.

Not sharp.

Heavy.

As though someone had parked something enormous across my ribs and forgotten to move it.

I tried to lift my head.

Bad idea.

The room shifted.

My mouth was so dry my tongue felt too large.

I couldn’t remember coming here.

Later, Dr.