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"After that, wheel yourself down to the kitchen for

breakfast"

I felt al told she could take

the family car for a ride herself Maybe her sassiness

worked I thought because I did get myself over to

the vanity table and brushed my hair Then, surprised

at how hungry I was I wheeled out of the room and

down the corridor

Finally I felt like I was home

Perhaps it was because ere in the kitchen

and not in my hospital-like bedroom, but while I ate

art became more talkative,

especially about herself She ate her breakfast with me

and told me about some of her former patients One

was particularly sad: a twelve-year-old boy with