Recollection (2)

Having been shuffled around the hospital from ward to ward by the bed manager, I find myself in the familiar turf of the medical assessment unit.



I have been asked to work as a 'float' for the shift, helping out wherever I can.



I enter the bay and you smile at me. You were in a bad way when I saw you in A&E two nights earlier.



I ask you if you remember me, and you call me a 'daft sod', explaining that just because your will to live has gone, your marbles have not.



You explain that you've lost three wives, the most recent 6 years ago. You no longer want to carry on alone, and have no family or friends to care for you.



I sit with you for a while. Clean the green mould from your spectacle lenses and pack your belongings ready for you to head onto a better ward.



The aim is for social services to have an input into your care. Someone to help you out around the flat, make sure you're eating and measure your blood sugars.



I reckon I will be seeing you again. Hope things work out better for you.



I think you broke my heart a little that day.