h2g2 The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy: Earth Edition

In order to understand this, I need to reel back about 10 years.

O-K.

Back in 1997, I had a small familly - my nan, my mum and dad and my two lads.

Nan was 87, Dad 67 and mum 65.

Dad died unexpectedldly at the rather early age of 67 of a series of heart attacks, about 24 hours before he was due to undergo a routine By Pass operation.

Nan was poorly, with a series of hospital admittances, co-inciding with my dad's illness. Every time he was rushed to hospital, she immediately took ill. Generally, they were purely pyscosomatic ailments, but enough to get her into hospital for a long series of tests.

Things, as you can imagine, were a bit fraught; especially for mum, who was torn between parental duties, and wanting to be with dad.

Generally, I kept tabs on nan (and my lads) and mum sat by dad's bedside.

ANYWAY - dad died at 67, being outlived by nan.

Mum never really severed the umbilical between herself and her mother, so I imagine there was a lot of guilt/anger and frustration going on.


Nan's claim to fame was to make Machavelli look like a whelk seller, as regards emotional manipulation and guilt trips. I found her amusing, because she was so transparent in her manipulation, but I know mum fell for it every time. Nan could play her like a maestro musician.

So put yourself in my mum's place rather than mine, for the time being.

Nan was released from hospital, still with bedsores, and despite my firm belief in getting her into a full time care home, where she could socialise and be cared for appropriately, nan dug her heels in, and mum did virtually everything she could to prevent this happening. The upshot was a compromise whereby the District Nurses came and changed her dressings daily, and mum finally (and grudgingly) allowed Social Services to send in Carers Twice Daily.

This went on for nearly two years; nan became increasingly frail and frequently fell,re-injuring herself. Finally, she was readmitted to hospital, where it was finally confirmed that she had gangrene in her heel, due to the unhealed bedsore supporating, and her daughter was given a choice; sign the consent form for an amputation of the lower left leg, or allow the hospital to try and save her, with a combination of anti biotics and a lot of morphine.

Mum chose the latter option.

At the time, I did wonder if she actually, really *truely knew what the choice actually meant. The option of the operation - or at least the shock of it - certainly did hold severe risks for nan's life, but I always felt it was a better option; it may well have worked, she would have been about as cured as she could be, and her living conditions would have *had to have been addressed.

I'd gone into the options quite thoroughly, and yes, it would have been a lot of red tape, and an awful lot of effort on both mum's and my behalf.....and it would also have meant that nan would have had to have sold her house (which had been already Gifted to mum) before she could have been considered for Permanent Care.

But as mum was left very comfortably off by my father, money really wouldn't have been an issue. To put it bluntly, she's sitting on around half a million to three quarters of a million quid in property, investments and inheritances. She's not hard up; never has been.


I went to visit her this weekend; as I mentioned, she's upset about one of her friend's dogs, who - by her account - is dying by inches, and "really ought to be put down". I gave up going to the H2 meet for that, because mum really did sound very distressed about it all.

I really wish I hadn't.

Mum likes a drink, and a couple of glasses down, she began to ramble about how her friend *ought to put her dog to sleep.

She said (and I quote) "I did the same for my mother - I don't see why (friend's name) can't be as sensible"

"How do you mean, mum?"

"I knew damned well she might survive if she'd had her leg off - she might have done, but would *you have wanted to have a wooden leg? And she was old..."

"So what you're saying is...?"

"I don't have an ounce of guilt about it. I knew she'd die without that operation, so I let them give her the morphine so she could go to sleep"


I always suspected that she probably *did understand the options, but it was a bit of a shock to hear her verbalise it. Especially so coldly

I was rather fond of my nan - she wasn't a particualy bright woman, but she was reasonably kind, and more of a mother to me than mum was She was a terrible gossip, and an apaullingly self old dear (egocentric rather than selfish, really) but she was my nan and for all her faults, took a bit of an interest in me.

I didn't like the way she was treated the last couple of years of her life; (going back to the animal analogy) you wouldn't expect a dog to live in the conditions she lived in. I did all I possibly could to alter her circumtstances, but unfortunately, anything I suggested had to be OK'd by Nan - who wouldn't OK anything "in case it upsets your mum, Ev"

And when I remonstrated with Mum, she always refused to change her mind, once a decision had been made. It was a simple matter of her signature to get a grant for central heating to be put into nan's house to make her life warmer, for example, and she wouldn't so it.

There were lots of instances like that, but thats the one I particaully remember. "If she gets cold, she can always wrap aanother blanket around herself, can't she?"

I don't think I'll ever forget that callousness.

So this weekend my mum basically held her hand up to a form of legal matricide. Half the reason I'm recording this is a sort of confirmation that she actually did, as she's terribly good at changing the goal posts when it suits her - and frankly, my memory isn't 100% since I've gone on the Morphine myself. I've always been carp at dates and time scales, but its gotten a bit worse since. This way I can at least refer to it, if only to reassure myself.

And frankly, it doesn't feel comfortable to have confirmed that which I had suspected and put to the back of my mind.

Lets face it, there's sweet FA I can do about it now - nan's been dead this eight years past. Time's moved on. And as she died in her 90th year, yes, the chances of her surviving until now are remote.

But I wonder why it was that after 8 years of denying any knowledge, mum needed to tell me that *now?

I helped her clear out the kitchen this weekend; is my next job - and I rather suspect it will be - to listen to a series of confessions from her that I've always suspected but never had confirmed?

Its as well I don't let her strange ways and weird mind games get to me anymore - but I'll admit its going to take me a couple of days to get my head round this latest conversation

Boy, I wish I'd been a little less dutiful and gone to the Meet.

For all of H2's hidden agendas, it would have been a darn sight more amusing and considerably more entertaining