Tapioca

I didn't go to work today, I went to see mother. I inspected the stiches on top of her head and she asked me why she had had brain surgery and if it worked. I told her, as she has been told already, that she has a tumor and that she had had a biopsy. Then I told her, when she asked, that it didn't look good. She thanked me for not beating around the bush about it and I sat down and held her hand and refastened the red lit pulse monitor on the end of her finger when it fell off. After half an hour or so she asked me all the same questions. Then I showed her an engraving I brought her and she discussed the disposition of her library and other articles of her estate. She started telling me about how her taxes were arranged and I told her that we didn't have to worry about them for a while, yet. And then she wondered again why she had had surgery, and told me that we would fight it. Then she wanted some tapioca. I want some too.