I reached in and grasped her hand that was lying limp near her head. I don’t think she could feel it. ‘How bad?’ I was about to lie. I couldn’.... If it were me, I would want to know. ‘Bad,’ I said, trying to be soft. I saw a tear form in her eye. I bit back my own. I hadn’t cried since I was ten. Then again, I never saw someone die before. ‘There’s no one on the road and no phone service.’ ‘You’re here,’ she said. I moved closer. I hate death. I don’t do funerals or go near hospitals. For some. She was older,but in good shape. She introduced herself as Debbie, the physicaltherapist. She had a box of different little gadgets that I was supposedto try to use to develop some coordination and strength with my new body.She ran me through a few basic hand exercises, gripping a stress ball,holding a pen, and trying to snap my fingers on each hand. She stayedwith me most of the morning, and by noon, she had unstrapped both of mywrists, and I was free to hold them in front of my eyes for. More

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