Some Comfort

Latest news from John regarding Mum is she hasn't had a cigarette since being admitted to Tameside General and, astonishingly, isn't complaining about the situation. I can only assume she decided before going in to accept the fact she wasn't going to be able to smoke, knowing full well from past experience that the whole hospital is a non-smoking zone. This experience related to a previous visit for an appointment when she transgressed the code and was roundly admonished for doing so over the PA system, much to her shock and my brother-in-law's amusement. It seems this time she had a quick smoke before they put her in the ambulance to take her in, muttering something about a last chance, which supports my theory.

Oddly enough I'm told that there are a few old biddies in the hospital who manage to wheel themselves outside for a few drags now and then without getting into trouble, so we assume that Mum hasn't seen them at it as she certainly would be more than a little inclined to join them.

I don't think suddenly quitting like this is going to make much difference to her health, though. She's been at it for some seventy-eight years on my count and that's a lot to make up for in two weeks. But the improved diet she's on and carefully measured medication is very helpful from what we can gather. John reckons she's a lot better than she was with a distinct improvement in short-term memory, though she still looks frail. That's good to hear, but I'd rather hear it from her directly and that's not going to happen since the nurses, understandably, are not going to put me through to her to talk directly.

It's very strange after months of talking to her virtually every night not to have spoken directly for so long. There's a peculiar comfort in the sound of her voice, even when she's just complaining about everything and everybody.