The Miami heat hit me as soon as I stepped off the overnight flight, the kind of heat that burns through your skin and won’t let go. By noon, I was standing under the blue ICU sign at Naples General Hospital, clutching my dad’s old pocket watch as if it could rewind time. The nurse at the HIPAA desk spoke softly, the way they do in PAs.
Room 512.
Monitor. Endoscope. The steady beeping that makes your lungs forget how to breathe.
