Wednesday
I have no idea whether Mum knew who I was or not this evening. I suspect not. But then she didn’t seem to know who any of the Other People there were either.
“Someone’s left you some fresh flowers Mum. Look.”
“Oh! Roses!”
“Yeah. I don’t know where they’ve come from. “
“Pinched from someone’s front garden.”
She talked to her Other People mostly and she talked indistinctly mostly too.
There was one tale that involved someone called Joyce.
“Did you just say ‘Joyce from the Tobacconist’ Mum?”
“Yeah”
“What were you doing in a tobacconist?”
“You’d be surprised!”
“I probably wouldn’t.”
“No, you probably wouldn’t”
When Glenys came round with evening meds, Mum was really pleased to see her.
“This is one of my ladies!” she told me proudly.
She and Glenys had a decent conversation. Mum spoke much more clearly than she does with me.
When Glenys had gone, Mum talked more about leaving. She thinks she’s going home to the house in Loughton where she grew up.
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
