I could be told I remembered wrong.
But that night, the report existed.
The time existed.
The monitor existed.
The nurse’s note existed.
And my answer existed.
No, I did not feel safe.
Yes, I wanted them to leave.
The charge nurse returned a few minutes later with a printed visitor restriction form.
She explained it slowly.
My mother and Tessa would not be allowed back into my room unless I requested them.
If they tried to enter anyway, staff would call security.
If they called the unit repeatedly, those calls could be screened.
She asked whether there was anyone else I trusted.
For a moment, I almost said no.
Then I thought of my neighbor, Mrs. Alvarez, who had once brought me soup when I had the flu because she noticed my porch light had stayed off for two days.
I thought of my coworker, Emily, who had texted me three times after I missed a shift.
