“We have to do this every day for the next six weeks,” he said.

He stood up and checked the digital drip rate on the pole.

“Tomorrow will be a little easier, but today is going to be a battle.”

I squeezed my eyes shut and focused on the steady clicking of his pen.

The harsh chemical smell of antiseptic floor cleaner drifted in from the hallway.

The fluid bag slowly emptied, leaving me too exhausted to speak.

The sun went down, and the overhead fluorescents hummed to life.