Chapter 2 - TWENTY-SEVEN TIMES
I printed every access log.
Date.
Time.
Workstation.
Record section.
Marcus had not merely checked whether I was alive.
He had reviewed laboratory results.
Progress notes.
Imaging.
Medication lists.
Even nursing observations.
Twenty-seven times.
Yet when I returned home, he had looked at me and said:
“I was too busy.”
I sat staring at the pages until anger became something sharper.
Why hide it?
If Marcus cared enough to monitor my chart repeatedly, why refuse to visit?
And why modify my antibiotics?
I called Sarah.
She arrived forty minutes later carrying Thai food I barely touched.
“You look worse than when you asked me for the divorce.”
I slid the logs across the table.
She read silently.
Then again.
“Is he allowed to access this?”
“As my husband?”
“No.”
“As a hospital physician?”
“Only if he has a treatment, operational, or authorized professional reason.”
“Did he?”
“Not that I know of.”
Sarah sat back.
“Could curiosity qualify?”
“No.”
“And changing medication?”
“Absolutely not.”
She looked alarmed.
I raised a hand.
“I am not saying Marcus tried to hurt me.”
“Good.”
“I’m saying I don’t understand why he was inside my chart.”
That distinction mattered.
Facts first.
Fear later.
The following morning, I contacted Metropolitan General’s privacy office and requested a formal accounting of accesses under my rights as a patient.
I did not mention divorce.
I did not mention suspicion.
I simply requested the audit trail.
By afternoon, the privacy officer called.
Her name was Denise Palmer.
“Ms. Hayes, I need to verify something. Were you aware Dr. Marcus Hayes was listed as an informal consulting physician during part of your admission?”
My stomach tightened.
“No.”
“Do you remember consenting?”
“No.”
She paused.
“There is a note indicating verbal authorization.”
“From me?”
“Yes.”
“Who documented it?”
Another pause.
“Dr. Hayes.”
Marcus had documented that I authorized him to participate in my care.
I had not.
“Can you send me the note?”
“I need to check release procedures.”
“Of course.”
Again: process.
No accusations.
Denise called back three hours later.
Her tone had changed.
“The note has been amended.”
“When?”
“Yesterday.”
The day Marcus received the divorce papers.
I stood.
“Amended how?”
“The original language said patient verbally consented.”
“And now?”
“It says patient consent presumed due to spousal relationship.”
I almost laughed.
Consent does not work that way.
Especially not inside a hospital where staff receive annual training on access boundaries.
“Who amended it?”
Denise was quiet.
Then:
“Dr. Marcus Hayes.”
My divorce papers had apparently made Marcus realize he needed to repair the record.
But he had done something worse instead.
May you like
He had created a second version.
And hospital systems preserve both.
