“It’s my daughter, Miriam,” she said as I entered the ward. “Where were you?” How grateful I felt to be identified by Mom. I sat down in the seat that the nurse was vacating. She’d been feeding Mom her 10:00 snack—applesauce and milky coffee laced with a laxative—and Mom was eager to hug and kiss me. We spoke for a while as Mom told me about getting her hair coiffed; about the seven minutes that she’d waited (I’m not sure for what); how she’d gone shopping but couldn’t find t