I only had my sense of hearing left. Nights and quiet times almost drove me mad, but music kept me sane. The hospital played Chopin and Mozart, not corrupted muzak or the modernized versions, but real music. Daily, they had local musicians. Typically, high school kids, who make wonderful small mistakes that add to the music, give it a dimension that only live music played with passion can possess.

Twenty-nine steps, past Mary’s rhythmic monitor, past Henry’s mumbles about War and Peace, through the buzz of the connector door, and into the day room. Based on the swish of the wind from the window, Jenny, the nurse, rolled me near the left side of the room, the side with the better acoustics.

Sal, Sally, and Sasha, the S gang, talked about the pudding. Sasha hates the chocolate while Sally loves it. I haven’t tasted pudding, or anything, for nine months, not since I lost that sense.

The card mafia, Louisa, Gale, Mamatra, and Annabella sat too close for my comfort, as they shuffled and talked about Marvin, who passed away in his sleep earlier in the morning.

Jenny set the bed brakes and walked to the card game. She says that she likes to watch, but I think she does it to control the women. Her presence will keep their complaints about the music shut away in their individual throats and will not cascade into a full revolt.