Richard

Since Maya is unable to hold a phone herself, I’m tasked with typing everything she dictates. I knew Maya handled a lot, but I didn’t fully realize the depth of her job until she had me working through each task with her.

No wonder she isn’t happy. The number of emails she has to sift through in a given hour would drive anyone insane. Or maybe I’m just going crazy by sitting this close to her. The smell of her coconut soap is permanently ingrained into my memory as she sits flush against me, pointing at different emails with her uninjured hand.

I can tell her nerves grow stronger as we near the hospital. Her knees bounce up and down as she dictates message after message I need to send, altering my entire schedule for the day.

The work doesn’t stop there. After we check in, a nurse hands…