ABSTRACT
This chapter talks about waiting room. While the author mother's memory of her life was being shocked from her, shaken like cereal from a box up stairs at the wiswall hospital, she would wait down stairs for them to finish, hiding behind the staircase, a spiral that marked up, line after line of hand-crafted spindles, order on the polished oak floors, no convulsions in the flowered parlor or on the draperies that matched. Something shocked also out of her, her shamelessness, though everyone was kind to her nurse Louise with her paper cups of water and Alice at the switch board, who showed her. Where the bathroom was, the nameless order lies who walked her mother down the aisle like a bride on their arms, helped her remember who had driven here to the electroconvulsive shock treatment, helped her remember her children, their names. There after she could always be counted onto stop her at the fence.
