A week ago I watched my neighbour Margaret being loaded into an ambulance and transported to hospital in the early hours of the morning. At the time, I really thought the next stop would be a nursing home. It still might be but I am far less pessimistic. I can tell she's thinking the same thing. For the first few days she was confined to bed. The physios tried to walk her but she managed just one step. Today she walked to the end of the corridor and was all smiles as she managed to hoist herself from the chair to walker. She was chatting away happily to the woman in the next bed and was as pleased as punch to be visited by the hairdresser. As any women knows a new hairdo can make you feel like a new woman.
But the real sign that we've turned the corner is that Margaret has returned to bossing me around. In other circumstances it might be irritating to be in trouble for putting the coins in the "wrong" section of the purse or not being able to find a ball of white wool but honestly I couldn't be happier. The real Margaret is back.
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