My grandmother turned up on all four hospital screens

My grandmother Consuelo is 84, has an old phone and facial paralysis that arrived in March. She's admitted to room 703 and doesn't like being seen without her smile. I set up WhatsApp Web so she could type comfortably from the tablet.

I logged her account on my laptop, on my uncle Sergio's phone —he's a quantity surveyor and never touches notifications— and, by accident, on the on-duty computer of nurse Marta, who had asked to be shown a picture of her grandson. Nobody signed out anywhere.

At seven, Marta showed my laptop to Dr. Cea to ask him about something else. At the nurses' station, three screens were showing Consuelo's name at the same time in the open-chat list. On a fourth, someone was writing to her from the hospital kitchen.

I went up to 703 to warn her. She was asleep, the tablet still on by the bedside and her face —solemn, unsmiling— on it too.

«Oh, dear,» she said when I told her the mess, without fully opening her eyes. «I've never been photographed so much.»