She can't think of anything she can say that he'll actually take as an answer. I don't want to be sick. I don't want to be somebody's patient. The last time I was in bed that long--

None of it needs to be said. Especially not the last thing, not after the time he threw it in her face--and even if he hadn't, she doesn't really want to think about it. Eventually, she mutters, "Thought I'd be okay."