ChiaraThe doctor was an old man who could easily have been my great-grandfather.However, he had a bearing and a temperance that anyone would envy; he was a very lucid and attentive man. He left his jacket on a coat rack in the living room and conversed at ease with Loreta in Italian.I returned to my room but went to the bathroom before lying down on the bed.Loreta soon came into the room with the doctor, and he saw me and smiled.“Doctor Fabio, this is Chiara,” Loreta said.“It's a pleasure, Chiara,” the doctor said, and I nodded.Loreta took a couple of minutes to explain to the doctor what was wrong with me, and then he began to check me over. After an inspection, the man took my vital signs: temperature, heart rate, respiratory rate, and blood pressure. Upon seeing the results, the doctor frowned.“You have a high temperature, but your body doesn't take it as a fever; it seems to be adjusting to a normal temperature,” the doctor said, and it was my time to frown.That didn't ma
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