My parents stood near the window on the far side of the bed.

Richard had his arms crossed tightly over his tailored shirt.

Linda stood next to him and checked the gold watch on her left wrist.

Dr.

Grant didn’t offer a polite good morning or ask how I felt.

He pulled a thick stack of printed sheets from his clipboard and laid them right on my tray table.

The first page listed a dozen different chemical compounds and daily blood draw schedules.

“This is the three-year protocol,” Dr.