Most of yesterday was spent getting ready to, or actually visiting my Aunt Ros in the Manchester Royal Infirmary.
My cousin took myself, Mum, and her Dad. Mum joked that it had been the furthest she had been for ages, and luckily had packed a picnic. She's worried sick about her only sibling, but is always as good humoured and sunny.
We'd not seen my Aunt since a brief visit on Tuesday, and in that time she had become a lot worse. Her whole body is swollen and she has again become very confused.
There were only supposed to be two visitors to a bed, but when we smiled and asked nicely, a very swishy male nurse said we could all sit at her bed since the ward was quiet for the weekend.
When we first went in Ros was very confused, saying that the mafia were watching and listening to everything she said. She also got really angry when we said it was Saturday, because she thought it was Friday. It's hard knowing what to do. Do you go along with what she's saying to stop her agitation, or gently correct her? We went for the latter.
As the three hour visit went on, she seemed to become less teary and confused. We started talking about silly family stuff, and with Mum's skill, had a right good chuckle.
I was sat at the end of her bed and she didn't miss a trick. She noticed my hand was a bit shaky and kept asking me how I was. This is more like Auntie Roe [ryhmes with toe, and is my baby name for her.] She always worries about others more than herself.
The care she is getting can't be faulted. All the staff seemed to know what they were doing. The sister explained to us that the Doctor has ordered her to have two enemas per day, which will help remove the toxins her liver isn't expelling and thus going to her brain, and which should help with the confusion. She's waiting for a biopsy on her liver which they will do through her neck, hopefully next week.
Mum got chatting to the camp male nurse, who chatted for ages about all the ward gossip, and was really lovely. Mum and I said our goodbyes to Aunt Ros, and left to make our way to the car, so she could have ten minutes with her daughter and husband.
As we turned into the long empty corridor to make our way to the lift, we saw the male nurse. He hadn't seen us and sashayed infront of us, hips and arms swinging.
'It's not a hospital corridor in Manchester, in her head, it's the Paris catwalk. Work it girl!'
We laughed all the way back to the car, and no it wasn't me that said it.
My cousin took myself, Mum, and her Dad. Mum joked that it had been the furthest she had been for ages, and luckily had packed a picnic. She's worried sick about her only sibling, but is always as good humoured and sunny.
We'd not seen my Aunt since a brief visit on Tuesday, and in that time she had become a lot worse. Her whole body is swollen and she has again become very confused.
There were only supposed to be two visitors to a bed, but when we smiled and asked nicely, a very swishy male nurse said we could all sit at her bed since the ward was quiet for the weekend.
When we first went in Ros was very confused, saying that the mafia were watching and listening to everything she said. She also got really angry when we said it was Saturday, because she thought it was Friday. It's hard knowing what to do. Do you go along with what she's saying to stop her agitation, or gently correct her? We went for the latter.
As the three hour visit went on, she seemed to become less teary and confused. We started talking about silly family stuff, and with Mum's skill, had a right good chuckle.
I was sat at the end of her bed and she didn't miss a trick. She noticed my hand was a bit shaky and kept asking me how I was. This is more like Auntie Roe [ryhmes with toe, and is my baby name for her.] She always worries about others more than herself.
The care she is getting can't be faulted. All the staff seemed to know what they were doing. The sister explained to us that the Doctor has ordered her to have two enemas per day, which will help remove the toxins her liver isn't expelling and thus going to her brain, and which should help with the confusion. She's waiting for a biopsy on her liver which they will do through her neck, hopefully next week.
Mum got chatting to the camp male nurse, who chatted for ages about all the ward gossip, and was really lovely. Mum and I said our goodbyes to Aunt Ros, and left to make our way to the car, so she could have ten minutes with her daughter and husband.
As we turned into the long empty corridor to make our way to the lift, we saw the male nurse. He hadn't seen us and sashayed infront of us, hips and arms swinging.
'It's not a hospital corridor in Manchester, in her head, it's the Paris catwalk. Work it girl!'
We laughed all the way back to the car, and no it wasn't me that said it.
