Crazy Medicine

It's 3:41 am... I'm awake. I'm at the hospital with my mom and she's been miserable. The nurse, as a last ditch effort to make my mom feel better, just brought her in crazy medicine. I don't know what it's called, but let me tell you about our conversations. First of all, when the nurse was just in here, drawing blood, my mom's hand was moving- the nurse turned to me and said, "She's doing something with her hand." (my mom was asleep) Then, my mom said, "Oh sorry, I thought I'd stir the spaghetti." I laughed so hard I snorted. Then, I was telling the nurse about how the doctor assured my mom she would lose all of her hair (and she HASN'T!), and my mom interrupted, "How did the designs work out?" "What designs, Mom?" "Oh, never mind." Then, her machine started beeping, so I went out and got the nurse again, and as she fiddled with the machine, my mom said, "Well, when you get the buildings all done, you can fill them up with children." What buildings, mom? Whose children? Sounds catastrophic.  

Oh, she just said (as I was typing this), "Darren, did they all get in that van?" "Mom, it's me, Andrea." "Oh, I have nothing to say to you." Well fine. I have nothing to say to you, either.