Intertribal Life Newspaper -

I kept repeating it in my head: Mississippi mud pies, Mississippi mud pies. I encouraged my brain: you know these words; you know how to say them; you can do it. I whispered them to myself: mmmm iissss iissss iipppii mmmud ppiess.

A tear rolled down my cheek, and the doctor admitted me.

I heard a nurse tell another nurse that they had room for me in the closet. It was a little nicer than that. There were no windows in the little V-shaped room; it had no TV or wall light like a regular ward room, but it was quiet and even had a little table for my reading material.

A nice w...