My Mum now has C-Dif. Or similar. The point is, they’ve closed her ward entirely and moved her to a side room where she can feel completely lousy in bacterial privacy. Can’t see her.

The hospital looks like M*A*S*H. Yellow warning stickers all over wards; crooked bits of wood nailed over the doors. Blood on the lintels. But, amazingly, Melissa and I managed to see Dad this afternoon. We sat and chatted and I tried to put my finger on what was weird about him. Then I twigged – as ill and unhappy as he is, he looks more like himself than I’ve seen in a month. I figured he must be getting better because he’d been grouchy with the nurses in the night – they’d tried to make him lie down and he took umbridge at not being able to breathe.

We’re still not thinking beyond tomorrow, however. Dad’s medical condition is as complicated and vulnerable as ever. But they have moved him to a ward tonight.

So we got through today. Seems my parents will both be in hospital until next week at least.

Stop me when this gets boring.

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