I was scrolling through my phone when Patricia said:
“All right, Helen. I’m going to start your IV now.”
She pushed the sleeve of Mom’s hospital gown higher.
Then she stopped.
The sudden silence made me look up.
Patricia was holding my mother’s wrist.
And she was staring directly at the blue flower.
Her entire expression had changed.
The friendly smile was gone.
She looked stunned.
Not confused.
Not curious.
She looked like she recognized it.
For several seconds, Patricia simply stared.
Then she seemed to collect herself.
She gently pulled Mom’s sleeve back down over the tattoo.
“I’ll be back in a moment,” she said.
Her voice sounded controlled, but tense.
