Leaving Beverley, the clouds had grown more ominous and sure enough, for three or four minutes, Clint had to contend with a sudden deluge that was over soon after it had started. Someone turned the tap off and by the time we reached my home village sunshine was already evaporating the puddles. Clint had been in need of a good wash.
Simon had been assigned a new Macmillan nurse. The first one had only managed to visit him once in two months. The new nurse assessed the situation quickly. Speaking kindly, she offered him three options - stay at home with daily support in a hospital bed that would be delivered to the cottage, go into the East Yorkshire hospice till the end or go into the hospice for two or three nights of respite before returning home. Simon picked the the third option.
Consequently, the nurse phoned the hospice and was able to reserve a private room for Simon. Then she arranged for ambulance transport tomorrow morning. He was not bullied into this new arrangement. He picked it willingly himself though in his heart of hearts he must realise that he may never return to his rickety old cottage.
His woman friend who is currently staying in the village will be there in the morning to see him off in the ambulance with the bag that Shirley packed for him and his purple "Do Not Resuscitate" form and his negative lateral flow test.
The hospice website says this: "At our hospice we care for patients and their families with love, sensitivity and compassion so that their last days together may be spent with dignity and quality in a setting that feels like home."
It feels as if the time is right and I guess that it is really the best place for him. He will be safe there and good people will be watching over him as he reaches the end of his story.
from Yorkshire Pudding https://ift.tt/0JF3prW
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