After recovery she was brighter and more alert than I expected and ravenously hungry as well she might be, having been nil by mouth since the previous evening.
Her vigorous chewing on the sandwiches that broke her fast did aggravate the wound such that it bled, so I left her for the evening not entirely free of anxiety.
Yet that anxiety is mingled with the hope that this somehow, in some ineffable way, signals a new dawn. The previous night Jo eschewed the rotunda to transfer from the wheelchair, electing to stand and step and today I observed her move her left hand from the wrist, the first time I have seen her do this. Let us hope these are signs of an early spring for her.
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