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.
