My mother stares at me with a bottomless fury. "It's not a laughing matter," she says, her voice as dry as cracked wood. I have just attempted, unsuccessfully, to kid her out of her adamancy, but she only repeats what she has been demanding for the past hour: "Put me in my bed!" Yet the nurses have told her over and over that she must sit up part of the day to prevent bedsores and worse.
"Put me in my bed!"
"In an hour, Mom. They'll put you back in an hour."
Her mood is so black I wonder if it...
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