I thought I was just in coming for an office visit, but was so beyond that, the staff even bypassed "Go" on the Hospital Monopoly Board known as "Admissions."

Only one hitch: the semi-private room. Two of us were coming in about the same time. Both emergency admits. Both with the same first name. One was crazy.

"What are you in for?" I asked, trying to make conversation.

"Dope, I guess. Diabetes too," she said. Her life story poured out, mingled with graphic expletives. Before long, I realized I should not have worn my black skirt with the white turtle-type top. Evidently Crazy Jane mistook me for a nun.

"Don't tell any of these nurses that I am a doper. You promise?

"Scout's honor," I said, knowing full well I wasn't going to be staying the night with this wild woman. Crazy Jane pulled the cotton sheet used for a divider back and forth continuously as she told bits and pieces about her life.

"Been doping for a long time. They're looking for me, you know. Don't tell them, sister.

"Tell them what?"

"Where I've been and where I am going."

I smiled in reply.

My bed was closest to the door. When the assigned nurse came in, I snagged the bottom pocket of her smock.

"Will you please get me out of here. This woman is not in her right mind," I desperately pleaded.

The hefty nurse gave me a rather self-righteous look over her half-moon glasses. "Not a private room in the whole hospital, my dear."

Soon two nurse want-a-bees came in asking their long list of rapid-fire questions:

"Do you smoke?"

"No," I replied, irritated that there wasn't a private room available. "A person with lung cancer would be crazy to smoke…"

Crazy Jane broke in, "Well, I smoke. Why quit now?" She laughed hysterically.

Then we were asked if we abused alcohol. She admitted to being a heavy drinker. I disavowed any association with wine or liquor of any sorts.

When asked if either of us used illegal drugs, Crazy Jane lied. But I was loyal to my word. I didn't rat on her.

Now, came the most asinine question of all. "How many times have you been to be bathroom today?"

Crazy Jane asks in innocence, "Number one or number two?"

Now I laughed hysterically. The aide got no reply from me. I didn't know how many times I had gone to the bathroom. I don't tally such things.

Eventually Crazy Jane became more hyperactive. She made comments to passer-bys in the hallway. The nurse who had been so snooty came back and whispered that they had found a place for me if I wanted it.

"It isn't exactly a room," she murmured, glancing toward the other side of the sheet.

"Does it have a bed?" I asked.

"Yes, if an examining bed counts."

"Does it have a toilet?"

"Yes, but it doesn't have a shower."

"I'll take it. I'll take it," I said, trying to muffle my excitement.

Just then a phone call came in from Crazy Jane's ex. Apparently he had gotten out of jail in Texas and was on the way up to see her.

As I was hastily packing up my few things and heading toward the door, Crazy Jane gave me a big hug, complete with a wet kiss on the cheek.

"Thanks for moving out. My ex and I have so much catching up to do after three years." She gave me a wink.

"Sure. No problem. See you in church next week," I said piously.

"Just might see you there, sister. Just might."