My Sick Mum

Roz called this morning, she was nearly crying. The nursing home had called and mum had had some kind of seizure and they were concerned about her with the consensus that she could quite possibly die.

She was unconscious and there was some thought there was a possibility she may not regain consciousness.

Roz asked the nurse if we needed to rush over. The nurse felt that we should. 

I hate this current assignment, and was keen to leave. Fuck it. Why should I feel the call of duty in a job I don't like, in such circumstances, I ask you?

I said to Bevan. “This may sound a bit dramatic, but I think my mum is about to die. And the doctor’s said we should go and see her now.”

“Yes, okay,” he said. “I am comfortable with that.”

I think he meant the exact opposite, but whatever.

Mum was lying in her bed staring at the ceiling. Her blue eyes were crystal clear. She was conscious.

She responded to me when I asked if she was hungry, or if she was cold. She said no to both. She didn’t say anything else. I don’t really know what she was responding to really.

We both chatted away. We were terribly amusing, well, we thought we were. You've got to laugh... We asked mum why she wasn’t responding when we were sooo entertaining, but she said nothing. Not a thing.


We stayed for a few hours. Then we went to have lunch. We came back afterwards hopefully to see the doctor. The nurses got the doctor on the phone and Roz talked to him. The doctor agreed with our course of action, keep her comfortable, don’t let her feel any pain, no resuscitation.