That evening, while I sat next to her bed, she suddenly burst into song: By that point Mum could still just about recognise me, but conversation was already beyond her. I travelled up to Norfolk on 16 November, staying overnight. I tried to support them from here, combining that with monthly visits. He bought and prepared her food, fed and watered her, washed and cleaned, answered her calls and sat by her bedside. My brother has lived with Mum for many years. Now a hospital bed was positioned in her bedroom and she took up permanent residency, never again to trouble the floor.Ĭarers came four times daily to wash her, change her incontinence pads and tend to her worsening bedsores. She had been taken in after a fall and spent several months being shuttled from ward to ward, seemingly destined never to emerge, especially when briefly transferred to a Covid ward. My brother and I finally managed to extract her from hospital in the autumn of 2021, by which point she required palliative care, but could at least spend her last days at home. She was ninety-one and succumbed to dementia. Maureen Dracup, my mother, died on 14 January 2022.
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