Patel would explain everything.

Black ice on Route 30.

Tuesday night.

Coming home from Walter’s winter concert.

My car left the road, struck the ditch, and rolled.

Several broken ribs.

A collapsed lung.

A small traumatic brain bleed.

Doctors had sedated me while the lung was treated and the brain swelling monitored.

When they reduced the medication, I did not wake as quickly as expected.

Eleven days.

But at that moment, I knew none of it.

I knew only the white ceiling.

The monitor.