Three Days on the Pediatric Ward Showed Me What My Mother Tried to Steal From My Son
“I’ll ask the desk for one,” I said.
I left the room and walked down the wide yellow corridor to the central elevators.
The finance office was at the far end of a windowless basement hallway past the hospital cafeteria.
A small brass plaque beside the heavy oak door said Patient Account Services.
A woman in a dark blue cardigan sat behind a metal desk piled with gray hanging file folders.
She glanced up and adjusted her bifocals as I came in.