"Right in here, remove your clothes. Underwear and bra can stay on but put the robe on so it's open in the back, not the front, okay?"

The words are coming at me in a torrent; I can’t understand any of them, but I know the drill.

I throw my stuff in a bag, take a deep breath, and open the door to the inpatient surgical waiting room. It smells like alcohol and ice and has no memories I can sense. Am I the first person that’s ever come here?

“You’re here for the lumbar?”

I cut her off before she could say puncture. "Yes."