And at that moment my eyes opened. It was involuntary. I heard my name and reacted to it. Everything came slowly into focus; light coalesced into shapes, shapes coalesced into figures; figures coalesced into my entire family, crowded into my hospital room, none of them paying me the slightest bit of attention. Even my father, who’d asked the question, wasn’t looking to me for an answer.
“Terrible,” my mother said.
Actually, I thought, I’m feeling a lot better.
My father nodded and translated the answer. There was a lot of shaking of heads. Here I am, I thought. Somebody look over at me.