Ma is still in hospital. Every day I see her slipping further and further away. Her reality is now very different from my own. She doesn’t remember me visiting every day but remembers tomorrow is Monday. She sat in a chair all night and wouldn’t go to bed. They now have an alarm attached beside her bed so they can hear her when she gets up. Her bed is now against the wall. She was crying when I got there this morning. So afraid and alone until I offered to get coffee and then she came to life. There are stories of a wedding taking place outside her door; a fire last night; my sister’s orgy! (without my sister’s knowledge); me with my ‘other boyfriend’ (she hopes my really nice boyfriend doesn’t find out); waiting on a seat all night for a bus and having no money for a taxi… the list goes on.
She doesn’t eat much and looks shrunken. Yesterday she had an angina attack which they thought may have been a heart attack. Is it so wrong of me to wish it was and that it had carried her away from all of this? How much does a body have to suffer? In her lucid moments she talks to me about her memory and how she has lost it. It upsets her. She misses her beloved cats. I sit there reading to her and she drifts in and out of naps.
There are three lost souls where she is situated. Two gentlemen that wander around looking for a car or a room. Another older lady has a belt with a handle attached so they can lead her back to her room. Oh God, I don;t want my mother to go there too. She looks at them and says to me, ‘at least I’m not there yet’! She now realises that her mind is no longer hers.
My heart is breaking in two. Foo Fighters is on as loud as I can make it, the house is dark and I can scream if I want because there is no-one to hear me.