So I walked into the hospital without looking back. As I emerged from the elevator onto Bryan’s floor, I heard a loud buzzing from the nurses’ station. “Looks like that darned sensor on bed twelve slipped off again,” someone was saying. “Do we have another one somewhere?” I walked up to the desk just in time to see two nurses disappear into the back. Perfect. I went to Bryan’s room. The light above the door beeped and flashed incessantly. Because I was a genius, I concluded that he must be in bed twelve with the malfunctioning sensor. Of course, the number twelve on the door didn’t hurt. I silently thanked the gods that my epilepsy was under control; otherwise, those flashy lights would have probably sent me into total neurological meltdown. And then the nurses would have sent me down to Emergency, where some sleep-deprived intern would tell me what I already knew, which was that I had just had a seizure. Then I would make some smart-ass comment about how I already knew that because I had more than five brain cells, and then he’d burst into tears and leave the room.
