Yay, it is Friday again, and Fandango has just published his Friday Flashback post. The idea is that he picks a post from this day in a previous year, to give newer readers a better insight into what does and doesn’t make him tick.
I have always liked that idea, so shall also post my own reminiscence. As much as anything, it reminds me of where I was, where I am now, and how far I have come. Hopefully, you will find it entertaining along the way.
Oh, and thank you to Jennifer at Paperkutzs for allowing me to use her image.
Gosh, I remember this from a year ago, about my volunteering for the UK’s Stroke Association, visiting stroke survivors on the ward.
I suppose I should just let you read the post, tell you that I wrote the answer in a later post then invite you to hunt for it. But it must be onerous enough to read one of my posts, let alone several.
I got around the identity problem I talk about by asking the partner directly next time. Discovered that it was the same person. It was heartbreaking to see her, knowing what she had once been. And she must only be in her late fifties, even now.
And it got worse for her, she suffered various setbacks and was still on that ward when I last visited back in February of this year – about six months, the longest stay I ever knew. The only saving grace was that I got quite pally with the partner. I mean, under such circumstances you don’t really become friends, but we knew each other to chat, I used to visit them every time I went to the hospital, whether asked or not. He was always by her bedside – if any youngsters reading ever wonder about “love”, look no further – it isn’t roses or chocolates or champagne or any other nonsense.
Anyway, onto my post…
I had a very spooky experience yesterday. I was visiting the hospital, and they asked me to speak to this one particular patient. I recognised the name. The name didn’t necessarily mean it was the same person but wasn’t it? I was full of anticipation.
This woman was somebody I met professionally, just the once, and just for five or ten minutes. For some reason, her unusual name had stuck. She was a solicitor, doing some work for me.
The verdict? Well, I didn’t think so, but I wan’t sure. There are two limiting factors. One is my eyesight, I don’t trust it to recognise somebody I only met briefly, years ago. Second is the hospital environment – people in hospital look like shit, and when I met her before she’d have been suited and booted.
. Talking to her partner, she’d had a haemorrhage and had just come out…
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