In the last decade of her life, my mummy regularly wound up in the hospice.

An assistant brought her dinner and attempted to shake her awake. Mrs But she was still a long way from us, waiting in the anteroom of heaven. Life cover. Privacy is a casualty of modern life – treated so far another cost of progress. One need not survive identity burglary to be tired of routine attacks upon our individual sense of identity. She was prepared her warm, loving life into her ma’s just about dead bones. Poor Ma had eaten no breakfast or lunch, and shortly it might be too late for a dinner tray. And took turns climbing into the hard, narrow hospice bed, snuggling up to her, and holding her tight in loving arms. At four-thirty the orderlies came for my mum.

Ma was not able to chat due to a stroke, and I stayed close to give her medical history to the imaging test technicians. And while we were gone a resurrection had taken place.

This entry was posted on Sunday, January 31st, 2010 at 3:45 am and is filed under Personal Finance. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.