I am now into my third week over here in England. Mum is getting slowly better. She still has to undergo one more procedure to remove an errant gall stone and then the doctors think they will be able to release her. The operation (a non-surgical endoscopy) is slated for next Wednesday. Then the challenge will be to get her back on her feet and moving around again after what will have been over three weeks in bed.
So things are looking up and mum is certainly more lively and cheerful. However, her neighbour in the next bed is not doing so well and is not expected to survive for long and that makes for an uncomfortable contrast. Yesterday, Friday, at my mum's bed we were all laughing out loud at some humorous thing, I don’t know what, and I looked up to see one of the family members crying at the next bed – just 6 feet away. That made for some very strange, almost guilty, feelings. We were all so happy at one bed and they were so close to us and so desperately sad.
But life goes on in the hospital, this afternoon (Saturday), I arrived there and the neighbour’s bed was empty, all tidy with clean sheets and ready for the next occupant. She had passed away in the early morning lying in the next bed to my mother – very sad and very creepy indeed.
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