My husband’s expression hardened.
“Depends on what?”
The officer didn’t answer him. He turned to the receptionist instead.
“Who entered this second change?”
She looked uncomfortable.
“It came through the patient account.”
“From which terminal?”
She pointed toward the administrative desk at the far end of the lobby.
My mother-in-law immediately stepped in.
“This is ridiculous. My son was handling everything because she was in no condition to deal with paperwork herself.”
The consultant stopped walking.
“She was conscious when she was brought down here.”
My mother-in-law opened her mouth.
The consultant continued.
“And she has now clearly told us she did not request discharge.”
Nobody answered.
The nurse pushed me through the ward doors.
For the first time that morning, I was moving in the direction of care instead of being dragged away from it.
The doors swung shut behind me.
I heard my husband call my name once.
