At her six-week follow-up, she couldn’t contain herself. She pointed to the scar again, her voice sharper this time. “Explain this, doctor. Why is it here?” The doctor’s composure cracked. His lips tightened, his gaze flicked to the chart in his hands. “It’s… scar tissue,” he repeated, unconvincingly.
She refused to back down. “Scar tissue doesn’t form a surgical line.” Her insistence turned the room colder. He finally muttered, “I can’t discuss this further.” The phrase felt rehearsed, like a door slammed shut. She walked out trembling with rage, certain he knew more than he admitted.