Fifty-One Hours
And in a different category entirely, which I will come to: an attending neonatologist, three fellows, about eleven nurses, a palliative care physician, a clinical ethicist, a social worker, a chaplain, and a bereavement coordinator, every one of whom believed — correctly, on the information they had — that the patient’s husband was handling communication with the patient, because that is what he told them.
Nobody at that hospital did anything wrong.
I want to say that at the front and I will say it again at the end.
I have gone through eleven hundred pages looking for somebody to blame and the only person there is is the one who was sitting on the edge of my bed.
My sister Vesna did not know.
My parents did not know.