They said it was just a routine check, but before lunch even came I had a red bracelet on my wrist stamped “DO NOT DISCHARGE,” I was pushed into Room 312, handed pills with no explanation, and the doctor with the expensive shoes only smiled like I was supposed to sit there and stay quiet—until I started looking closely at that room and realized something in there was anything but “routine”
The nurse snapped the plastic bracelet around my wrist so tightly it pinched the skin, then turned away before I…