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You reach for the bag at the end, the Leica M6 you bought at art school. Film. What real professionals used. You rub the brass showing through the black finish. So many days out in the field taking shots for assignments and, later, your portfolio. Your fingertips prickle.
That oak tree out on the nature strip is still shedding copper-brown leaves. There might be a decisive moment. Or not. You’re happy to look, to wait.
Part Two: The Peak
You sit in what Pat calls the First-Class airline chair. All leather and sumptuous cushioning, with controls for height, tilt and footrest. He’s parking the car after dropping you off at the hospital entrance.
The nurse introduces herself. Andrea. White cotton shirt covered with small red horseshoes in pairs facing each other. Dark trousers with pockets for a phone, pens and other gizmos. The regulation trainers for being on her feet all day. Long, brown hair tied in a ponytail. Round face with warm eyes.
Andrea raises the chair to take your blood pressure: 116/71. Pulse rate, 67. Oxygen usage, 97%. Pretty good, especially for your age. She runs through the standard questions.
Energy levels. Not bad.
Falls, fever, nausea, vomiting, pain, mouth ulcers, diarrhoea. Nope.
Appetite. Good, never an issue.
Dry mouth. Mostly at night. Sips of plain water when it wakes you up.
