Just skin and bones

Sunday morning dawns grey and dull, we breakfast on our usual full English and then after showering and dressing, I walk Norman round the village, before driving to Saint John's and parking outside Sarah's house. As promised, I deliver Louis' table football before church and I have time to play with him for a few minutes until it is time for ten thirty mass. Father Roy is back this week, but he doesn't look fully recovered and so he shares the service with father David, who gives the homily, which is about listening to God. It has a resonance for me, as there always seems something to do, in order to help others, in the everyday mundane activities of life and it is more life affirming to offer these small acts of kindness as a kind of prayer than the alternative of moaning about the things that others seem to load onto us. There again perhaps that is just me! After church I return home and manage to iron a few shirts, until it is time to visit Leslie in Hull Royal Infirmary. On my way to the hospital I stop at Tesco's in North Hull and buy a bunch of grapes and some bananas for him, as I know he likes fruit, before driving to Mark's flats down Linnaeus Street, where I park and walk the short distance to the hospital. There are still warning notices about Norovirus, so I obey the rules and wash my hands thoroughly before entering the ward. Leslie is asleep In his bed when I arrive, so I sit with him for a while before he stirs, this gives me the opportunity to look at his arms, which are exposed, they are match stick thin and covered in bruises, as the slightest touch triggers them. When he wakes, I hold his hand and we chat, he is lucid but weak, he wants to go home but is unaware of the progress of his treatment, I tell him that I think he is too weak to go home at the moment, but promise to fetch a nurse to find out what is happening for him. He tells me he has suffered from constipation and dehydration which was very painful, but seems to be over it and has also had a limited amount of physiotherapy, to try to regain the mobility he has lost whilst being bed bound. He has also lost all the weight he regained when in the Grange last month. I find the nurse who is responsible for him in the ward office, her name is Aleysha, and she sounds to be of Caribbean origin, and is warm and friendly and gladly comes to talk to Leslie. Ayesha explains that the process of discharge requires a number of stages, the first of which is that the responsible doctor declares the patient fit to leave, the second stage requires the nursing staff to liaise with social services to ensure that the patient has somewhere safe to be discharged to and thirdly, these stages need to be in consultation with the patients family. Leslie, thanks the nurse and says that no one has told him this before, but as the operation to repair his vertebrae only took place last Monday, it probably hasn't been appropriate. Afterwards we chat some more and he asks my opinion, I tell him that he is likely to make a quicker recovery with convalescence back in the Grange, as he will have a safe environment in which to exercise his legs and to get rest and regular food. He wasn't particularly enamoured of the place the last time he was in there, but it worked, he ate regularly and regained his strength and optimism and was able to go home, where he was coping well before his accident. He asks me to speak to his daughter, Margaret and says he will go back to the Grange, if it helps him to return home again. I promise to do just that and to visit again on Tuesday, if he is still in the hospital, Leslie is convinced that he will still be here and we say goodbye. I have mixed feelings as I walk back to the car, the flame of life seems to be flickering lowly in my old friend, but the hope of being able to return home definitely lifted his spirits. I doubt very much that he will survive very long whatever happens but it would surely be better for him to have his last few weeks or months at home, if this can be arranged. On my way home, I call at the Grange in order to check whether they have a room, in the event that Leslie needs one, the staff say they do but with the necessary caveat that this is subject to matron's assessment of the patient. She is not there until tomorrow morning. Leslie's daughter and son in law are Manchester United fans and they have travelled to Old Trafford on a supporters bus and consequently won't be back until late, so I have arranged to ring them in the morning. Norman is waiting for me when I return home, wagging his tail furiously in anticipation of dinner, so I feed him first and then microwave the bowl of chicken casserole and dumplings that I preserved in the refrigerator from Thursday. It tastes fine and I help it down with a large glass of wine, before taking Norman for his evening walk, it is a cold, damp, drizzly evening and we are glad to return to the warmth of the house. My trip to the hospital and the weather has dampened my spirits, so I don't feel like reading and go to bed early tonight. Sufficient to the day is the evil thereof!