Tuesday afternoon, bay four. Priya from the discharge team has a folder and forty minutes before her next meeting, and she is kind about it, which somehow makes it worse. Your name is on his form, in his handwriting, under the question about who the hospital should contact. Ken wants his post brought in, and he wants you to bin a get well card from his locker, signed Julia, with a mobile number written under the name. He will not say who she is, and you have not thrown it out yet. "I need an answer by Thursday," Priya says.
The Name on the Form