This column appeared in The Herald-Sun in 2013:
The day after Mom became a cyborg, she apparently gained an obscure superpower.
“I smell heat,” she said groggily as she reclined on her bed. Doctor’s orders: a full week of bed rest following surgery to install a defibrillator in her chest. “Is something burning?”
I eyed the white-capped orange bottle of Percocet on the bedside shelf and immediately assumed it was the drugs talking. So I laughed, shook my head and proceeded to joke about it in a Facebook status update.
It felt good to have something to joke about.