Day 22

The nurse put her arm round her and tried to comfort her. In the family room there was a little bit more privacy but the glass windows still permitted random people to look in as they passed. Some moved slightly outwards, away from the family room, so they looped away as the wailing un-nerved them, snaking their path round some invisible obstacle. Others slowed down and stared in until the nurse waved them on, presumably the same people who gawp at a motorway car crash, enthralled by the spectacle of human suffering.

The older man, very dapper with a tweed suit, moved from foot to foot. He felt completely powerless and inadequate. He was part of an upbringing where men didn’t cry and they certainly didn’t have much idea of how to cope with a crying woman. Still upper lip – only his was wobbling.

The woman gasped and slowly began to calm down. The nurse patted her arm and encouraged her to sip the weak tea. She gulped down a mouthful and through a veil of tears and sniffles said, “I’m ready. I want to see him. I’m OK now. I’m sorry. I’m OK.” The nurse asked if she was sure. The man shuffled from foot to foot again and wondered if this was a good idea.