When I began to comb his hair, I found it was dirty, of course, and I tried to think of a way to wash it. With some improvisation, including a clean bedpan, an extra pad that they’d brought in case his shoulder leaked, and the little bottle of shampoo included in his admissions package, I managed. I also helped him shave and brush his teeth, and then I gave him a sponge bath, which turned unexpectedly bawdy.

He was very relaxed and sleepy—and happy—by the time that was over, and he said he felt much better. I combed his damp, dark hair and kissed his smooth cheek. He was going through a clean-shaven phase.

A nurse came in to give him his bath right after I finished, and she shrugged when I told her it was done.

Time in a hospital inevitably drags. Before I had a chance to tell Tolliver about Victoria’s phone call, he fell asleep. I hated to wake him when the long day stretched in front of us. I napped myself. I struggled awake when Tolliver’s lunch tray came at eleven thirty.

That was another exciting break. I cut up all his food—well, the little that required cutting—and put a straw in his drink for him so that he could eat one-handed. He was so happy to be getting real food instead of liquid that even hospital food was welcome, and he managed pretty well. When I was sure he’d had as much as he wanted, I rolled the table away and handed him the TV remote. I needed to go in search of food myself.

“You don’t have to sit here all afternoon, you know,” Tolliver said.

“After I eat, I’ll spend the afternoon with you,” I said in a tone that told him not to argue. “Then I’m meeting Victoria for supper. I probably won’t come back after that.”

“Good. You don’t need to be cooped up all day. You’ll probably want to have a run or try the hotel’s weight room or something.”

He was right about that. I’m used to sitting still for long periods, because we’re in the car so much, but I’m also used to getting exercise every day, and my muscles were stiff.