I thank my inexperienced doctor. The one I depended on. The one who charged extra fees. The one who was learning and experimenting on me. He caused me severe pain. The age-old nurse assisting him was my sole assurance in ciming out alive. But it all worked out well. The imperfect stitches made me miserable. It almost shut me down. I started to depend on Him. To wash my face. To brush my teeth. He fed me. He made sure I took every last drop of my juices. My medicines went in me as per his timetable. He laid out my clothes for me. He dressed me. And when I pretended to be asleep, he took away my book and placed the bookmark. He kissed my cheeks. He waited. He kissed again. On my eyes. My chins. Then he squeezed my arms and shoulders. He started to love me. Whenever I groaned in pain he had tears in His eyes. He was restless. He was sleepless. I enjoyed being in love. Being loved.