The discharge process took longer than it had any right to.
That was the thing nobody told you about hospitals — getting in was fast, frantic, all motion and urgency.
Getting out was paperwork and waiting and someone always needing to verify something with someone else who was currently unavailable.
Liam sat on the edge of the bed for forty minutes while various people came in and out of his room with forms and instructions and small plastic bags containing his belongings.
Someone went over wound care with him in careful, unhurried detail.
Someone else explained what he should and shouldn't eat for the next few days.
Dr. Reyes came back, checked his levels one more time, signed off on the discharge with the kind of quiet efficiency that told him she'd done this a thousand times.
He listened. He nodded at the right moments. His ribs complained every time he shifted his weight.
