I woke the second time to the sound of someone teetering around my hospital bed. I opened my eyes to see Dad standing beside my bed, his attention on the joinery of a chair he had upturned. I smiled. It was so typical of Dad, the eternal jack-of-all-trades, unable to resist the urge to assess and criticise the handiwork of others. “What’s the verdict, Dad?” I asked, voice weak. “A piece of half-arsed carpentry if you ever saw it?” He placed the chair down and joined me at my bedside, a smile on his generously wrinkled face. “Leah, honey. Welcome back to the land of the living,” he said, running his hand over my forehead. I smiled. It was comforting to see him here. I welcomed waking up to familiarity. “How long has it been?” “You were admitted yesterday morning.” “Wow. Nearly a whole day of unconsciousness.” I lifted my hand to my head, remembering the bandage.
