His name was in the visitor log.

My medication schedule sat at the nurses’ station. My admission time was recorded as 6:42 p.m.

A bright yellow fall-risk notice was clipped to my file, and the doctors had written detailed instructions about my limited mobility.

Every nurse assigned to me knew that moving me took caution, equipment, and help.

Everyone in that building understood I was a patient. Vincent was the only person determined to treat me like an inconvenience.

His face was red as he leaned over me, one hand still fisted in the blanket.