(at work 2am, following screams and sobs down 6th floor hallway, finding 95 year old norweigan woman staggering in pink nightgown stained with purree'd shit leaking out of her broken colostomy bag. holy run on sentence)
NORWEIGAN WOMAN: (in tears) OH MY! OH MY! OH MY! OH MY!
ME: hello! can i help you?
HER: OH MY!! OH MY!! OH MY!!!
ME: shhh. i'm on your side. let--
HER: OH MY!! OH MY!! (wailing) I WANT MY MOTHER!
ME: (trying to remain neutral) i know. she's...not..here.
HER: (screaming) I WANT MY MOTHER!!
ME:well let's go get cleaned up first.
(after cleaning, dressing, tucking in)
HER: (small child matter-of-fact deadpan) my mother is dead.
ME: i'm sorry. do you miss her?
HER: you never stop missing your mother.