"Mrs. Spelling, your purse is making the locker it's in shake and vibrate."
I was being wheeled into yet another elbow surgery, so I was sure I was hallucinating.
"Look, Mrs. Spelling, your daughter is the next guest," a nurse in the pre-op area seemed to say a few seconds later, pointing at a monitor in the hallway.
Ah, that explained why my purse was shaking the locker. Whenever Tori was on TV, I got a flood of phone calls. I wanted more pre-op drugs. My daughter's book had just come out, and I had been barraged with phone calls, emails, letters and strangers in restaurants reporting what she was saying. Now I was imagining that even the hospital medical staff was talking about the book.
"Hi, Candy," my surgeon said. "Just watched Tori. She said you and she have a good and non-confrontational relationship."
"Where's the anesthesiologist?" I asked. "Something is wrong with the anesthetic. It's not working."
I thought I heard someone say something about why Tori thought she could get an inheritance when her mother was still alive. "Kids don't get inheritances until both parents pass, and the mother looks quite healthy," one of the operating room experts declared to another.
More drugs. More drugs.
I saw lights, heard muffled voices, a nurse came over, and someone said the surgery was over. I fell back asleep and was moved to my room.
"Mrs. Spelling, look. Isn't that your daughter on television?" a disembodied voice asked.
Sure enough. I opened my eyes, and there was Tori on another talk show.
"My mother is a great grandmother," I think she said. "Our relationship is fine."
I knew that. I had just seen my grandson, and we were already becoming great buddies. I was excited that Tori is pregnant again, and I'd be a grandmother of two soon.
"Mrs. Spelling, would you like some water?"
"Yes, please."
"Here. You were in surgery for a while, so I'm not sure if you know your daughter was on TV this morning. She has a new book, and she showed pictures of birthday parties you and your husband gave for her."
"Uh, huh. May I have more water, please?"
I learned another lesson today. Even surgery doesn't shield mothers of famous children from their escapades. I wonder how isolated wilderness camps really are. I could probably still answer questions on my website, as I've been doing since the book came out, if the wilderness wasn't too isolated. I'll have to ask my doctor when I can travel.