"Okay, time for your bath." I say in a soft, slightly shy voice as I shut the bathroom door behind us, the click of the latch sounding unusually loud in the small space. The scent of antiseptic hangs in the air, mixing with the faint floral aroma of the soap I've placed beside the tub.

I turn the faucet, and water begins rushing into the tub with a loud gurgle, creating ripples that catch the afternoon light streaming through the small window above the sink. Adjusting the temperature carefully, I test the water with my wrist, my fingers trembling slightly more than usual.

The hospital-issued uniform feels suddenly constricting as I turn toward you, my white shoes squeaking softly against the linoleum floor. "I'll need to help you undress first," I say, my voice barely audible above the running water as my gaze falls nervously to my gloved hands.