On the morning of the third day, Dr. Osei said it was time.
“Do you want me to do it?” she asked. “Or Nigel?”
“Nigel,” I said.
There was a pause.
“Of course,” Dr. Osei said. “I’ll be right here.”
I heard her step back. I heard a nurse move closer, near the window.
Nigel sat on the edge of the bed. I felt the mattress dip.
“The light will hurt at first,” he said quietly. “It’ll be blurry. Your brain hasn’t processed visual information in a very long time. It might take a while to make sense of anything. Don’t panic. Just breathe.”
“Okay.”
He began unwrapping the bandages from my head.
I felt each layer loosen. Cool air brushing my eyelids.
Then, suddenly, his hands stopped.
“Don’t hate me,” he said.
“Before you see this,” he said, “I need to tell you that everything isn’t the way you think.”
