The machine whirred for three seconds and spit out a fresh badge with the word VISITOR printed across the middle in thick black ink.

“Attach this badge to your sweater,” the guard said.

“You need to report straight to the nursing station as soon as you step off the third-floor elevator.”

My mother picked up the printed visitor badge without looking at his face.

“I know how a hospital works,” she said.

She walked past the locked gift shop window into the main central corridor.

The polished floor tiles gleamed under the long rows of overhead fluorescent tubes.