arrived and couldn’t tell anyone her name. She was later transferred to neurological care.”
My heart began pounding.
“Does she look like this?”
The receptionist studied Mom’s picture.
“I can’t confirm that from here.”
Then she softened.
“But the age and general description are similar.”
“That’s her.”
I knew it.
I don’t know how.
I just knew.
Then the receptionist said something that made the situation even more urgent.
“The patient suffered a seizure yesterday. She’s stable now, but she isn’t really supposed to have visitors.”
“I’m her daughter.”
She
