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No cards. Sterile and white. The television in my room had even been removed from its swivel on the wall high above me. Something was seriously wrong with this picture. My unease continued to grow with the advent of mealtimes and IV bag changing. The person attending to my ‘needs’ wore a nondescript type of uniform, the likes of which I had never seen on a nurse. I would have chalked this up to my limited knowledge of the health care profession (which consisted of two seasons’ worth of ER episodes), except that these nurse-people never made eye contact and didn’t say a thing during their forays to my bedside. The only form of acknowledgement (if you could call it that) was the occasional nervous darting glances they shot me whenever I appeared to be looking the other way. My questions were answered on my third full day of consciousness. I had just finished another profanity-laced, top-of-the-lungs conversation (one-sided as usual) with my nurse-person o’ the day as to what the hell. She felt strangely upset that he didn't trusther to do her own hair as he returned it to its place on the dressingtable.A few moments later, Carmelita arrived and immediately hugged Racheltightly. There was voluble thanking of almighty God for protecting hernew girlfriend in quickly spoken local Spanish and tears stained herface. Overcome by this newfound bond, Rachel found she was also cryingas the pair of them warmly embraced.Rodriguez decided to leave the women to their warmth and took the guardsoutside before reporting to Cortez.When he entered the room, he could see that Cortez was deep in thought.He had been studying a written report about the shooting and was walkingwith his hands behind his back, unhappily. Rodriguez knew that Cortezhad been personally responsible for Heinmann's safety and they had comevery close to losing him, a guard at the head of the lift had fired hisrifle before ordered and had managed to wound Heinmann in the stomach."Why did the Guard shoot him of all.
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