In Providence, patients wore scrubs, but our real nakedness wasn’t covered. Each of us knew why the other was there. One had ingested antifreeze. Another had stopped eating. That one over there, she took a bottle of pills. But it was the cameras in every corner and the monitors in the nurse’s station that provided the most obvious proof of our transparency. We undressed and were watched. We cried and were observed.

The Car That Brought You Here Still Runs by Naomi Kimbell