Hadrian's Wall Read Online Free PDF

all—my fears, he
was able to do what no other in his profession had done or was
interested in doing so far.
    * * *
    At our meetings, held twice weekly from then
on, I don’t know why, but I started to feel a little lighter.
Perhaps it was because I was sharing my anxieties with someone who
apparently did not judge me or simply because he was there to hear
me. The truth is that the frequency of my nightmares had decreased
and they’d become less distressing.
    However, while the psychiatrist’s meetings
afforded me comfort, the financial aspects of my stay in the
hospital left me increasingly uneasy. I had at my disposal a
“professional listener” that had to cost something, not to mention
an extended hospital stay, the examinations, and 24-hour care. I
did not want to know about the cost, especially because I had no
health plan that would cover even part of the treatment.
    Right! My grades were mediocre and I was
limited because of my mental problems, but I read a lot, I watched
television, I used the Internet and did a lot of searching on it
when the Internet was available at the orphanage. Therefore, I
believed I knew how “the system” worked—the value of things for
both poor and rich people, especially after I watched that movie
with Denzel Washington—John Q. I tried talking about my worries
with Dr. Talbot and Dr. Barringer, but they would not let me
express my concerns. They emphasized that I only needed to worry
about my recovery and I should forget about trying to figure it
out.
    However, things were becoming complicated,
particularly when I was told that I would be transferred to a new
place—the ward on the second floor—because I needed a more tranquil
environment, somewhere much less busy than where I was now.
    Since my admission to the hospital, I’d been
housed in the “observation ward” where teams of nurses and
residents circulated all the time. They were responsible for
carrying out the treatment prescribed by supervising doctors. It
would be nice to get away from all that excitement and above all, I
would avoid the possibility of meeting Asia “No-Last-Name” again.
On the other hand, I would lose the chance to see Adrian again. It
made me feel sad.
    * * *
    When the nurse pushed my wheelchair into my
new room, I was stunned. It had a private bathroom and all the
“perqs” that I could have imagined. There was a mini-living room
with a sofa and a coffee table, a folding table attached to the
wall for preparing meals, a networked computer and cable television
connected to a zillion channels. I had no idea how to use all the
buttons on the remote control!
    Oh my! This is the private ward? How long I
will I have to peel potatoes, wash dishes, wax floors, and clean
toilets to pay for all this?
    Just when I thought things couldn’t get
worse, another event occurred, negatively impacting the progress
I’d making. Upon returning to my room after my visit with Dr.
Barringer, I found my old suitcase sitting on the couch. It was a
shocking to come face-to-face with an object that connected me to
the past. It made me shiver and sweat at the same time.
    I looked at without the courage to open it.
The faded stickers pasted on it, depicting a time when I still
had mother and father, failed to reassure me. Instead, my heart
beat faster every moment that I hesitated and it seemed I could not
get enough air into my lungs. I knew the exact moment when my
crisis began. Although I tried breathing slowly to combat the
dizziness, the room spun faster and faster.
    Beyond the window, I saw the familiar
shadow—noisily beating its wings. He had not visited for me some
time, but here he was. At that moment, Dr. Talbot entered the
room. Whatever he wanted to say or do was forgotten when he
realized what was going on. He remained calm as he pressed the
emergency button hanging from a cord attached to the wall and then
came to me and began to measure my pulse.
    Doesn’t he want to listen to my heart
too?
    His