Not, what happened?
Not, are you sure?
What do you need?
I did not have a good answer.
I needed my body to stop hurting.
I needed my mother to be someone else.
I needed my childhood rewritten.
So I said the only thing I could.
“Stay.”
Emily pulled the vinyl chair closer to the bed and sat down.
“I’m staying.”
By morning, hospital security had a note at the desk.
The incident had been entered into my chart.
The charge nurse checked on me twice.
A patient advocate came by just after 9:00 a.m., carrying a folder and speaking gently enough that I almost distrusted her at first.
She explained that visitor interference with medical equipment was taken seriously.
She asked whether I wanted documentation for my own records.
I said yes.
My voice was stronger by then.
Still rough, but stronger.
My mother called the nurses’ station six times before noon.
