Things move quickly now. The sister leads me through the infirmary. It is old and worn. Paint flakes from the walls and ceiling. It is slightly cold inside. Not as cold as it is outside, but not as warm as I would expect. We are greeted by a young man in a white coat.
"You must be Robert," he says, shaking my hand. "This will be your room." He shows me a small room, just across the hall from what looks to be some kind of nurses' station. There are windows on two sides of the room. One looks out into a small alley, the other into the hallway. The blinds are drawn on both windows.
A bed rests in the middle of the room, white sheets and blankets. It surprises me that I have my own room. There is a vast ward just outside the room, with beds no more than five feet away from each other, light curtains separating them. But here I have my own bed, and walls, windows, a door.
"You might as well make yourself comfortable," he says. He pats the bed.
"What do you think it is?" I ask.
"Couldn't say for sure. We are going to want a sample of your blood, first. Before we can say anything, that is. One of the sisters will be here in half a moment. She'll take some blood, you know."
The sister from the University, who has been standing in the hall, reaches through the door and hands me my backpack.
"Good luck to you," she says.
