On losing it

I just spent the last several days in Raleigh, with my parents.

Until very recently, they were both physically frail, but very much in their right minds. Dad's illness has progressed to the point that he is now under the care of Hospice, however, and he is only occasionally lucid at this point.

Mom, though she is blind and physically enfeebled, was sharp as ever until back surgery (which doesn't seem to have gone all that well) left her in terrible pain. The pain is being treated with Oxycontin (enough to get Rush Limbaugh stoned, I'd wager) and that, combined with an as-yet unexplained poor oxygen-saturation in her blood, has left her confused and disoriented.

She kept trying to get out of bed all weekend long, forgetting that even the slightest movement would cause agony. And then when said agony ensued, she would remember.

For about an hour.

Whew.

On Saturday morning, after she had her pain medication, my (75 year-old) Mom announced triumphantly that she had figured out what the hell was wrong with her.

"I'm pregnant!"

I said the only thing I could think of. "Oh, Lord. Let's not tell Daddy."