Some mornings, I woke with a heavy head and a strange weakness in my arms. I once slept through an alarm I had used every day for twenty years.
Daniel reacted with an almost frightening degree of concern.
“You need to see a doctor,” he insisted.
“I have an appointment next week.”
“Next week? Margaret, you can barely stand without holding on to something.”
“I’m tired, Daniel. That’s all.”
He knelt beside my chair and took my hands.
“Promise me you’ll let me look after you.”
The words were sweet.
His grip was not.
I promised to see the doctor.
My examination and initial blood tests revealed no obvious explanation for the symptoms. The doctor suggested monitoring my blood pressure, reviewing my medication, and returning if the weakness continued.
Daniel accompanied me to the appointment.
He answered questions before I could finish them.
“She hasn’t been sleeping well.”
“She forgets to eat sometimes.”
