I interrupted him again, and asked in the direction of the emerald bear, "What's this big bandage on my head for?"

"You have some more stitches," he told me, seemingly unfazed by switching trains of thought. "From when you fell onto the floor."

"Did they cut my hair?" I felt a little panicked.

"No, I shouldn't think so. The cut was on your forehead, below the hairline, if I recall what they said correctly. Did they cut your hair before?"

"Yes," I said. "They shaved it in the back." I lifted my hand to feel the bristles they had left me with. "It itches."

"Oh," he said. "I am sorry. Although itching is usually a good sign that something is beginning to heal."

I thought about that for a moment. "So do you itch?"

"I beg your pardon," he asked.

"Do you itch?"

"Well, I hadn't thought about it before."

"You've lain there--what, seven, eight days with nothing else to do? And you've never noticed if you itched?"

I moved to get out of the gurney. It was a tricky process, as it was on wheels, and I was IVed-up. Once on the floor, I pushed the tall metal pole with the liquid medication on it ahead of me, shuffling slowly across the room.

"I'm going to the ladies," I said. "Why don't you think about it, and let me know when I get back?" And I disappeared into the room's lavatory. I needed to have a look at myself.

It was at least as bad as I had imagined. The patch of gauze on my forehead did not completely obscure my face, but it did make me look dangerously hurt. I tried my luck at seeing the back of my head and its stitches in the above-the-sink mirror, but turned dizzy again for a moment and knocked into the wall, grabbing hold of one of the abundant metal railings that ringed the small space to steady myself.

"Maggie!" Ben shouted from beyond the door. He had heard the noise of my tumble.

"It's okay," I called back. "I'm okay!"

When I exited the room he was of course still there, and when I asked him my question again, he answered.

"A little," he said. "My back."

I steered my IV to his bed, and looked down at the sheet and blanket covering him. Without asking, I pulled it aside just enough so that I could see the bandage, so as not hurt him. And for a few moments, I let my fingertips rest gently against his skin around it, and lightly scratched.