The fourth challenge engulfed me without warning. I found myself in a rehabilitation center, my body broken and weakened – not from battle or heroics, but from a manufactured illness that left my muscles atrophied and my nervous system damaged. The simulation provided perfect context: I was a month into recovery from a devastating condition, with prognosis suggesting I might regain 70% function with intensive therapy over six months.
But there was a complication. In this scenario, I wasn't just any patient – I was the guardian of three children whose parents had been lost in the same accident that had spared but broken me. The children visited daily, their eyes carrying a mixture of hope and fear that pierced through my clinical detachment.
