Still, my mind spun in protest, thinking about how I was doing everything right. I charted the session, I even timed my reductions, I weaned precisely the way I was told, and yet, I felt as though my own body had betrayed me. I feel like even my body doesn't listen to me.
Within a moment, another nurse went inside my room with a tray of supplies and a cold compress that felt like salvation as Nurse Rin gently pressed it against my chest. My breathing was now shallow, my head pounding, tears were now slipping down my face, not from the pain but from the humiliation of the feeling that I had lost control.
A sharp jolt of pain lanced through me when she shifted the compress, and I flinched. "We might need antibiotics," Nurse Rin said quietly to her colleague, "and to reintroduce minimal expression to relieve the blockage."
"No," I rasped as I shook my head. "That's backtracking."
