I went to see Mum in hospital today. I have to say she's looking much brighter and the anaesthetic seems to be almost out of her system. Last Friday watching her was quite disturbing. It was as though someone kept pressing the 'standby' button on a remote control somewhere; every now and then she'd 'power down' for a few seconds, close her eyes and seemingly go to sleep, then wake again with very little idea of what had just been said. She was on Morphine too, which possibly didn't help and something was making her sick.
Roll forward a few days and she's much more like herself. They have her out of bed now and she's sitting in a chair with her legs up. This, to me, looks much like the position she is in in bed but there you go, I'm no nurse, and it's given her something to think about.
As I approach she says she didn't know I was coming - she had forgotten - and she looked as if she didn't have her bottom teeth in. In fact I'm sure of it, though she did have some lipstick remains. She was wearing a fairly short nightie and had an icepack on her knee.
'Dad's taken my washing' she stated
'You said he didn't know how to work the machine' I replied. (How could a man of 81 who is pretty handy at mending most things not be able to work a washing machine?)
'Well I think he did'
'I'll have a look' - she had forgotten that I offered to take her washing home with me- 'Here it is' I say, brandishing a clear plastic bag containing another nighty 'is that it?'
'Oh yes' she says proudly 'I'm still not wearing any knickers!'
'Well, mum, they are very short nightie's and I really think you should wear some' I say, having been facing her - chair to chair for a while!
'We're all girls in here you know' she shouts blithely, as I insist 'I still think you should start wearing knickers'
In contrast I am wearing, what I hope is, a stern look!
Please can I grow old gracefully Lord?!