The door clicks shut, and I hear the door being unmistakably locked behind you. Late Sunday evening, it’s very late for a routine call. I lie here in this hospital bed, between sleep and vague drowsiness, hot, frustrated and uncomfortable. Waiting. Always waiting. Waiting to be fed bland hospital food, waiting to be taken to the toilet for a pee, as I am after all learning to walk again, waiting for a hello or a kind word...