Physical Therapy Day

Passive voice

It is time to wake up. You receive your breakfast on a maroon tray. It is eggs and orange slices again. They know you like to get not one but two cups of coffee, which you drink black and hot, the steam rising up to meet you. Good Morning. You eat quickly. You know that today is a busy one. 
Maria who calls you Tinker Bell comes in and asks if you are ready for the shower. She wheels in a bathroom chair. You take off your pajamas. You forgot that today was a shower day. It is one of your favorite days of the week. Maria has soft hands and smells of baby lotion.
You put on a hospital gown that has just been bleached. You put on hospital socks that have plastic bear paws on the bottom for traction. Maria helps you tie your hospital gown in the back. You sit down in the shower chair. 
You are glad that it is Maria giving you your weekly shower. She pays attention to your thin, straggly hair and calls it beautiful. The hair that you feel has been much changed by the infusion therapy. It is nice that someone thinks something on you is beautiful. 
Maria helps you take off the hospital gown, your naked body is cool in the air-conditioned temperature of the shower rooms. Maria tells you that she has a daughter your age. For some reason, that makes the fact that she is bathing you easier to stand. You know that most of the people living here are older. It must be a special treat for Maria to bathe a younger person, or perhaps, she has more pity for you because of your age. 
You get dressed for the rest of the day when Maria takes you back to your room. The lady who you share the room with lies quietly on her side. She never speaks. Her husband visits three times a week and holds her hand. "Good morning," you whisper. It doesn't feel right to speak loudly to the silent roommate. You feel like she knows everything about you, although you have never spoken.
Javier rolls in a wheelchair, singing under his breath and asks if you are ready to work out today. Javier has kind eyes.  You stick your feet into your new Asics tennis shoes. You sit down in the wheelchair. Whenever you go to sit down in a wheelchair, there is a strange moment where your legs shake and seem to lose the balance you still do have. You are in a wheelchair because of the bracelet around your right wrist.  In clear block, letters typed FALL RISK.
You like how Javier steers the wheelchair. He makes going to physical therapy like a race down the corridors. You go so quickly you can only wave hello to the on-duty nurse, the man who checks for skin damage. You get to the hallway where physical therapy is. There are many wheelchairs parked there waiting to go in. You smile at the other patients, even the ones that you don't know yet. You all have something in common. You all feel that you have been left here. 
There is a group of older men in physical therapy that you have deemed as your buddies. This is a secret knowledge that only you have. Their rooms are also near your room and you like to hear their conversations: it makes you feel less lonely like you have people who are there for you other than the therapy staff. You hate being sick. You wonder if they hate being old.
Javier wheels you to a recumbent bicycle. This is your beast to slay today. Your feet are weak. The peddles have straps attached to them so that you can stay on. Joi, your physical therapist, is always smiling. She smiles at you and Javier now. "15 minutes and then we will work on some other things." Then she adjusts the buttons on the bike which you know make it harder. Joi and Javier leave you. Joi calls Javier "uncle" and speaks to him in a language you don't understand. You match your pace to the man next to you. Richard from New Jersey who hates California and peddles like he is trying to get home. You figure if you can beat him one day then maybe you will be strong enough to go home, too.

Author's Note

This is an assignment I just turned in for my creative writing class on the passive voice.