Fifty-One Hours
I booked a motel on the eleventh of July, a Friday, and I took both boxes and a highlighter and a legal pad, and I read for three days.
I could not do it.
That is the part nobody warns you about.
I am a person with a master’s degree in chemistry education who can read a paper, and I sat in a motel room in the Dells with three hundred and sixty-one pages about my own son and I could not tell what most of them meant.
It is not deliberate obfuscation.
It is that a medical record is not written for you.