Around The Bend In Eighty Minutes

Drove Aunty Marie to the hospital today. She's in for a few tests. It took us an hour and a half to get to Dublin. I talked the whole way. The aunt listened with mild amusement. She mustn't be too sick if she can take eighty minutes of my monologue.
No really.
We strolled into the hospital a little after two o'clock in the afternoon. Standing in the foyer, my spider senses tingled. Turning I spied a restaurant. Yes a restaurant. Just off the foyer. Serving patients and staff. And, er, me.
"Do you mind aunt?" sez I, steering us foodwards.
She had a cup of coffee. I had a roast beef dinner.
Presently someone came looking for the aunt. A certain medical expert on floor seven could not survive a minute longer without a look at her.
We bid our au revoirs.
The aunt pressed a fifty spot into my hand.
My hand closed on the fifty spot.
Alone in the restaurant I mused on the vicissitudes of existence.
You know I'm really making a killing on the aunts.
Maybe it's time to give up journalism.