« So it was a whole lifestyle. Besides that, though, Jotty Doe was not someone you’d ever want about in any type of emergency. She’d be the one crying and dropping and unravelling all the bandages and getting germs from cross-contamination all over the place. Then she’d faint - just your luck too - from the sight of the blood, or of the wound, or of her emotions, and she’d faint over the person you’re trying, in extremis, to give CPR to. After that, when she came to, she’d be completely in child mode. Five years old she’d be, wandering in the woods, crying, still unravelling the bandages, still contaminating, but now searching for the corpse of some little household pet the family had ordered to be taken into the wood to be shot for practice that day. Daddy had come home turtleless. He came home turtleless. ’The turtle ran away’, he said, yawning and setting his gun down. »
Anna Burns, Little Constructions