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My husband took my mail out of my hand and gave it to his sister, in front of his parents and our neighbor. She opened it with her butter knife. It was the letter that ended my nursing career. For two years she had been signing patient charts with my name, and he had been sending her every letter so that I would never see one. "Don't make this a family problem," he said. Six hundred and fourteen charts carry my name. One of those patients is dead. They took my name because of what it opens in a hospital. They forgot it opens the same doors for me.-