"that's a good question" he said.

i wouldn't ask for a blanket

and instead of being warm and comfortable

i shivered

under a pillow and small pink scarf.

i didn't want to bother her

and for some reason wouldn't use my voice.

it was small that day.

it is often small

in the presence of professionals

i've noticed that.

the very professionals

who want to care and nurture and help.

she told me later that they have lots of blankets.

lots.and lots.

next time.

i said

with a sheepish look in my eyes.

i wouldn't ask for a blanket

to stay warm as the medicine

chilled my body right down to the bones,

flowing through the iv tube.

iv medicine makes me cold.

colder

than i usually am.

but more than that,

i didn't let him ask either.

and in his way,

he let me be

to learn what i needed to learn

to feel what i needed to feel.

offering up opportunity and willingness

 no, i said.

and he respected.

that night,

 buried under lots of blankets

feeling braver, at home,

i whispered to him in the dark

"why wouldn't i ask for a blanket?"

"that's a good question" he said.

and i laughed quietly at myself.

hot tears

gone and waiting for another day.