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start?”
    “You just did. We’ll get you a locker for your things and start you right here caring for our patients in the nursing home. We have people coming in every day looking for nurses, so the sooner we can get you into the swing of things, the better.”
    Doris stood and led the way down the hall.
    “Do you mind if I call you Natty? Natsinet is quite a mouthful.”
    Natsinet grimaced but said nothing. There were very few things she minded more than having her name butchered, but she had learned over the years that Americans were fond of abbreviations. It was pointless to fight it. “No problem,” she said.
    “Wonderful,” Doris replied. She offered Natsinet what appeared to be her first genuine smile. “Why don’t I show you the rest of the facility then?”

Chapter Three

    Adelle knew something horribly wrong had occurred, knew she’d suffered some debilitating illness, but did not know the extent of her condition until after she regained full consciousness a full five days later.
    She’d come awake slowly, in fits and starts. She recognized that she was in a hospital immediately, and when the night duty nurse came in and saw that she was awake, a doctor was summoned.
    “How do you feel, Ms. Smith?” the doctor asked as he stood over her bed, checking her vitals.
    Adelle could only make out a hazy image, enough to tell her he was a young doctor, of Middle-Eastern descent perhaps. She tried to tell him, tried to convey how she was feeling and perhaps ask how she wound up here, but she couldn’t speak. Her mouth was dry and as if the medical team had second sight, one of the nurses brought her a cup of water.
    “Easy does it,” the nurse murmured as Adelle sipped.
    That helped quench her thirst and calm her parched throat, but it did nothing to help further her speech. By then another team of doctors had entered the room, and it was the older one—white, graying hair, over six feet tall—who seemed to be in charge.
    “Ms. Smith, I want you to listen to me very carefully. You’ve suffered a stroke.”
    Somehow, the news didn’t affect her the way she thought it would. Her first reaction was one of courage.
     Okay, I’ve suffered a stroke. But I’m alive. And I’m going to get better.
    She listened as the doctor told her that they would run a series of tests—among them a CT Scan and various MRIs—to determine the extent of damage. Some of those tests were conducted while they were attending to her and it was quickly discovered that she’d not only lost the ability for speech, her left side was completely paralyzed. Tears of frustration welled out of Adelle’s eyes as she tried to make a fist with her left hand at the doctor’s urging.
    “It’s okay,” he said, patting her arm gently. “Now we know, and we’re going to do what we can to see that you regain use of your left side again.”
    As frustrated as she was by being unable to communicate verbally, she still had full use of her right side and that was at least something she could be thankful for. She was able to answer simple yes and no questions by tapping her finger on the bed’s guardrail. She could also write.
    Through writing down questions, Adelle was able to learn that she’d been out of it for five days, that she was at Philadelphia General Hospital in Center City, and that the blood clot that triggered her stroke had been treated and that she would likely undergo a long course of post stroke therapy. But first, they had to learn how much damage the stroke had caused.
    At some point somebody must have called Tonya because while Adelle was in Radiology getting prepped for the first of a series of MRIs, her daughter was at her side. Tonya hugged her.
    “Oh momma, I was so worried!”
    And with her daughter at her side, in the midst of all those machines and computers, her worry and emotion gave way and Adelle allowed herself to cry in her daughter’s arms. It was a cry of relief. She was still alive.

Chapter Four

    Three