Jared awakened on a bed, a white bandage obscuring his left eye and a relentless throb in his head. The white walls around him seemed to spin him around as he grabbed the glass of water on the bedside table. He noticed Pat, standing nearby on the tiled floor.
"Where am I?" Jared weakly replied.
"You're in a hospital. I've found you just outside of my hotel. I'd called the ambulance and they've brought you to the hospital."
"I can't afford to stay at the hospital, and my mother needs me. I need to go home and take care of her-"
"You're too sick to look after her. I can send one of my missionaries over, and they can help her. I just need your address." He retrieved a notebook and pen from his duffel bag, settling into a plastic chair beside the hospital bed.
"My mother and I live on 129 Mill Street."
Pat jotted down his address. A sense of relief washed over Jared, knowing someone would look after his mother, even as the weight of his own helplessness pressed down on him.