At the time she was in a ward Middlesbrough.  The ward wasn’t the best place for her – there was nothing to do, she was getting bored.  Although she was ill she was still basically mentally fit when prompted.  Yes, she couldn’t always remember things very clearly, but she was a very clever woman and when we visited as a family and talked to her about things she enjoyed (we did the crossword together, for example), she was fine.  On that visit we found some photos from her first wedding in the cupboard and my mum took those with her on the next visit to show her, and she remembered quite a bit about it, although couldn’t remember where abouts in Leeds the photos had been taken.  So my mum kept on at the hospital to get her moved somewhere nicer, somewhere nearer home, to the hospital I was born in, the little town hospital in Guisborough.

A couple of weeks after my visit they found a bed in Guisborough and she was moved there.  The room she moved to, I’m told, was much nicer.  The whole hospital, my mum reported, was much more friendly, much more set up for long term stays.  She had her own television and the staff asked what she’d like to watch to make sure she didn’t miss it.  She even had her hair done by the visiting hairdresser.  This was an important point – when we’d visited her in Middlesbrough she’d commented on how it had got a bit flat because she hadn’t been able to see a hairdresser.  I can imagine, for a woman who’s always had perfect hair, this was a major concern.

My mum visited every weekend from then on and I kept in contact with her.  She told me that the nursing staff had heard her praying.  I think this was the point I realised that she’d decided that was enough.

She died not long after that, peacefully in the day with my mum there.  My mum had been to see her in the morning and she wasn’t really conscious, but she knew my mum was there.  Apparently she could move her feet a little if she wanted to acknowledge something.  My mum left her for a while to go into the town centre – she had a few things to do – and on her return she was greeted by the nurses who told her they were just about to call her.  My Grandma’s breathing had slowed, she was obviously pretty close to dying.

My mum sat with her and put the radio on.  My Grandma had always been very musical and played the piano very well into her old age.  Radio 3 were playing piano music.  The sun was shining brightly outside, and my mum read some sections from the bible.  Her breathing became slower until it finally stopped altogether.

My grandmother died peacefully on the 19th September 2009 in the same hospital I was born, almost exactly 25 years later.

The Blood Bowl site is nearly complete — I should have it all wrapped up by next week — which is a relief.  It’s been more work than I was expecting in all honesty.  I’ve done most of the updates for the theatre school website, but failed to get a ‘quote’ to them before their last committee meeting as I promised.  One Flew Over The Cookoo’s Nest has been and gone (you can read a review here and another one here).  My dad’s starting up a company and I went to a meeting in York with him and my brother about their marketing and publicity.  Actually I had two reasons for going back up north that weekend.

My Grandma isn’t very well.  She’s 88 and has been getting slowly worse for wear.  The last year has been most noticeable with her mental health going a bit down hill.  She was diagnosed diabetic last year and had been given a whole range of tablets to take to help.  When she was being forced to take them she was generally OK.  She was keeping on top of things at home and looking after herself.  When she was left to her own devices, however, she didn’t take her tablets and got worse.  She claims there’s nothing wrong with her (I think this might be something to do with Christian Science, although I’m not totally sure), and so would choose to leave the tablets.  When she doesn’t take them her blood sugar goes haywire and she starts to lose her grip on the day-to-day running of her life.

A couple of weeks ago she was found, by the neighbours, in her night dress in the bath.  She was just lying there with no water in it, and when asked why, she said she thought she was in bed.  They took her into hospital in Middlesbrough.  After some tests they found she’s got cancer. (I’m not sure quite what kind, but it doesn’t matter.  They don’t know where it started or how long it’s been around, but it doesn’t matter.  They only found it by chance so it obviously hadn’t been affecting her very much.)

So, a couple of weekends ago, the whole family went to visit her in hospital.  She was bored.  Stuck on a ward with no interesting conversation and nothing to do (it even turned out that she didn’t have her glasses with her so couldn’t even do crosswords or anything!).  When we were there talking to her she was fine — she asked my brother and I what we were doing, and we told her about our recent activities (I told her about the set building, my brother about his involvement with some music event) — she kept up with the conversation no problem, and we even did a bit of the crossword as a family.  Of course they’d been making sure she took all her tablets when she should.

This week she was moved to Guisborough hospital, incidentally the place I was born.  I’m told it’s a much nicer hospital where she has her own room with a TV and slightly more attentive nursing care (not that they weren’t good at the James Cook Hospital, but they were a little busier and so couldn’t pay as much close attention to each patient).

My mum visited her in Guisborough at the weekend.  She said she was very weak and isn’t eating much (when we were there she said she didn’t have much appetite).  I guess there’s no getting away from the fact she’s dying.  Of course it’s sad, but she’s comfortable and seems quite happy.  I guess she’s had a while to come to terms with it — she’s had friends die and her brother died last September — and it seems to me she’s pretty much accepted it.  The doctors have given her three months from the cancer, I suspect it’ll be less than that just from old age.