Thursday

“Hello Mum! It’s Nick!”

“Ooh good! I’m glad you’ve come. Nobody’s been to see me.”

“What, not even Reggie!?”

“Hmm. I don’t know. He might’ve been. I’ve been asleep most of the time.”

“Are you still feeling tired?”

“No.”

Her face told me how she felt.

“Are you just fed up?”

“Yeah. Fed up.”

“Would you like a drink?”

“Yeah.”

Mum drank the last half of a cup of squash while she talked. Most of it was unintelligible but she didn’t seem anywhere near as miserable as she normally does on Day One of her Sleepy/Active cycle.

“Are The Boys alright?”

“The Boys” are her mum’s younger brothers. They were referred to as The Boys all their lives.

“I think they’re alright Mum. I haven’t seen them today. They must still be at work.”

“Oh. Yeah. What about Uncle Tom? Has anyone seen Uncle Tom?”

If any of her uncles are going to get a mention, it’ll be Uncle Tom. All the staff know about Uncle Tom.

“Yeah. He’s alright Mum. Busy. If I see him, I’ll tell him to pop in and see you.”

“Will you? Good.”

Then she told me a long tale during which the only word I could understand was “Maurice”. He was a cousin, I think, and this was his first mention in years. His claim to fame was that his parents racked their brains for an eternity trying to come up with a name that couldn’t be shortened to something silly. The Boys called him Mo right from day one. The buggers.

“I haven’t seen Maurice in years Mum. I’ll ask Uncle Tom how he is when I see him.”

Her expression told me that that answer wasn’t quite what she was expecting but I didn’t think I was a million miles out. She carried on talking and told me she loved me. Which was nice. Then she said she wished I could get in bed with her. Which was odd.

A nurse popped her head in the door and said hello. I presented the empty cup of squash in triumph.

“Would she like some more? No. Wait. I’ll bring a milkshake!”

“There’s a milkshake on the way Mum! It should be good because this nurse makes it with warm milk.”

The milkshake was delivered and Reggie arrived shortly after. He asked how I was coping after the news on Tuesday night.

“Not well. I still can’t believe it.”

He wasn’t either. He’d put a substantial bet on The Orange One to win in the hope that the money would take the edge off the trauma if he did. It hadn’t.

I asked, as discretely as I could, whether Mum had been asleep yesterday as I suspected because I hadn’t been there for two days on the assumption that she had been.

“I was working downstairs yesterday but I did see in the notes that she was too sleepy to take any of her meds.”

I was relieved at first but then she could have been just awake enough to pretend to be asleep and refuse them. I’d seen her do that before. We had a long chat about politics before I heard him being called away to assist elsewhere.

I went back to talking to Mum. Well, listening to Mum. She got halfway through her milkshake before I could tell she was putting her tongue over the hole in the spout and was only pretending to drink.

“Have you had enough Mum?”

“Yeah.”

“You look tired. I’m going to let you have forty winks while I go and get our tea.”

“And you’ll come back after? If I’m not asleep?”

“Yeah. If you’re not asleep.”

“OK”

So I only have to go back if she isn’t asleep then, eh? I may use that again in future.

Author’s Note

My Mum is in a nursing home in a small village in the Thames Valley. The photo is not of the home. I used an AI image generator to give the reader some idea of the home she’s in.

All, some or maybe even none (you’ll never know!) of the names have been changed to protect privacy and hide real identities. If you think you recognise someone then let me know and I’ll edit the post or remove it entirely