"this is hoffman, what's going on, where can i find her?"

"there's a nursery rhyme delivering your baby in 114."

"wait, what are you saying, ma'am?"

"nurse heimlich is delivering your baby in room 114!"

"oh sorry, i've been under the weather (chasing the dragon)."

      the fog finds you,
      it'll take your place in time,
      there is no rhyme or reason,
      or even frame of mind.
      the fog blinds you,
      it can't segregate,
      it'll capture all your secrets,
      it doesn't hesitate.
      
      memory recalls you,
      don't procrastinate,
      synapsis fire like machine guns,
      in the middle of the day.
      sensory remembers truth,
      better claim your fate,
      this ain't the time to run,
      new life won't cleanse your slate.

"jane! i'm here. how is our girl? where's doctor klein?"

"she's..."

"shush! mr. hoffman, i'm nurse heimlich. please take a seat.

there were complications with jane's umbilical chord."

"****."

"your baby's lung collapsed, causing her to suffocate. now, we did the best that we could, but the air and blood just wouldn't flow back to her heart."

"i was told there was a nursery rhyme delivering my baby in 114. this isn't a nursery rhyme!"

"then learn something from it, mr. hoffman. I sure am."