Hamburgers and Coke

When I came in this morning, Mom was wide awake.

I pulled up a chair next to her bed.

"I feel great," she said. "I'm hungry."

Looking down, I see the hospital's menu in her lap. I pick it up.

"Have you been looking at this?" I asked.

"Yes. I want a hamburger."

"Really? You sound pretty hungry."

"Well, I am, and I don't know why they haven't been bringing me any food!"

"Mom, you weren't eating at all for a few days and you had a couple of tests done yesterday. You're being fed through an IV right now. You won't be able to eat any food until the doctor says it's OK."

She didn't remember that she was being intravenously fed, and she seemed annoyed that she wanted to eat, but couldn't.

"Make sure it has mustard, pickles and onions on it," she said. "And I want a coke."

I reminded her that I would speak with the doctors and find out when she could have a meal.

She's been awake all morning -- a big change from the past week, where she spent increasing amounts of time sleeping or in some sort of delirium.

The nurse comes in and hangs her nutrition bag. It will have to do -- for now.