Drums were beating somewhere, steady like my heart, and the melody of a flute drifted through my head. I opened my eyes. Time to feed the dogs, I thought. But the blanket over me was too heavy, and I couldn’t lift my arms or legs. What’s wrong with me? Men began chanting to the drumbeats, and I recognized my Indian music. But I knew I wasn’t home in Vermont.

Then I felt a warm touch and heard a whisper in my ear: “Steve…” Turning my head was impossible. I lowered my eyes to see my wife’s face. Gwen, I tried to say, but no words came out. For some reason I started to cry.

“You have had an accident,” Gwen said, touching my cheek. She