I had rushed to the hospital with Bonnie, Jane-Anne, and the new secretary in tow, and we had almost wrecked all four of our vehicles trying to hurry and park them just as fast as we could in the hospital's packed parking lot. We jumped out of our vehicles practically before the wheels had come to a full stop and then ran as fast as we could into the hospital--- where we then proceeded to impatiently punch the elevator button a hundred times in rapid fire so that it would "hurry up and come" .
When we reached the Labor & Delivery floor, we burst out of the elevator so fast that we collided with old Doc Jenkins, who had been innocently standing nearby eating contentedly from a bag of popcorn. Popcorns went flying all over the hallway---including the one he had been about to put into his mouth--- and it had irritated him no end.
"Where's the GD fire?!" he hollered at us.
(Hickese translation: In Podunk, a staunchly Baptist community, nobody----and I mean nobody (not even old Doc Jenkins)---would ever be caught dead uttering the word 'goddam', because somebody would tattle to the Pastor of their church for sure. So everybody says 'GD' instead---as long as they're not within earshot of their grandmother or her next-door-neighbor.)
After we made sure old Doc Jenkins was in one piece (although we couldn't save the popcorn), we continued our 50-yard dash to Belinda's room. We were carrying presents and balloons galore---and I was clutching a large be-ribboned bag containing the three baby sweaters and blanket I had knitted for the new arrival to Podunk.
Because Belinda had delivered a completely, perfectly, beautiful--- baby girl.
Which reminds me.....
I have never told you the story of Belinda.....