Today she turns 78.
Chances are this will be her last birthday.
Yesterday we were informed that she’s on an
end of life pathway (from the last time she was discharged from hospital).
My parents are devastated, as am I.
I don’t think I’ve ever seen my dad express
as much emotion in my entire life as he has done at her suffering and treatment.
Such a brilliant, funny, headstrong and caring woman; and
now she’s wasting away in a care home.
She managed a care home for years.
She knows how they work. She
doesn’t want to sit in the day room because ‘they all talk twaddle in
there’. So she stays in her room, barely
awake. She’s given up and I am sad. She had been so strong. She fought through every single thing that
life threw at her, and then some.
And now, she’s basically lost to us, depressed and lonely
and sad. She’ll go to her grave not
knowing her house had been put on the market by people who, had they waited a
couple of months, could have legitimately done so rather than doing it slyly
and without her knowledge. But enough of
that, I suppose. I guess it doesn’t really
matter anymore. Now is just a question
of time. I don’t want her to suffer.
I’ll raise a toast to you later on; I love you with all my
heart.
I had a few words with her over the telephone just now,
possibly the last few words. She sounds
so distant, so withdrawn. All she said
to me was:
