Sick Or Treating

(It’s Halloween. I’m about eight years old. I’m wearing a costume my mother made me: a giant chocolate donut. All day long, I’ve been woozy, my face is red, and I am sluggish. Despite my protests, because I want to finish trick-or-treating, my mom takes me to the hospital, and I find out I caught pneumonia.)

Nurse: *upon seeing my unhappy face* “Aw, sweetie, not feeling well?”

Me: “I’m missing trick-or-treating!”

Nurse: “But don’t you want to get better?”

Me: “I want candy!”

Nurse: “Well, I have some Tootsie Rolls here.”

Me: “I want better candy!”

Nurse: *to my mother* “Well, at least we know what her priorities are!” *to me* “All right, how about some lollipops, instead? I love your costume! You’re a… What are you?”

Me: *frustrated* “I’m a donut! Obviously!”

(The majority of my memories are of me being upset I missed Halloween. I barely remember being sick.)