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6. Lawrence
6 Lawrence I woke to the golden light of late afternoon breaking through the clouds. It gilded the exposed top of the mountain I could see outside my hospital room. “That’s rare,” the Italian-accented voice from earlier said. “The clouds hang thick here.” I turned my head to see a tall, olive-skinned man with curly dark hair and intense black eyes. He wore blue scrubs and a stethoscope around his neck, and his badge said, “Barton Lucia, M.D., Pulmonology/Internal Medicine” in large letters with something along the bottom I couldn’t read. The hospital symbol to the left of his name looked familiar, but I couldn’t place it. “Micro-climate?” I croaked out. “In a sense. Here, have some water. I’ll raise the bed slowly. Let me know if you find it hard to breathe as I do.” My mind whirred
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