My wife's mother had a massive stroke about ten days after I got back to Oz. She's still in hospital, and you can imagine the state my wife Mel is in. At one stage the whole family were called in as it looked like the end. Mel has a suitcase packed.
Quite poignant for me, as this is the lady who looked after me when I was in the UK, bed, breakfast, tea, telly and a few beers with the dad in-law. She is genuinely like a mother to me, not the stereotypical mother in-law at all.
Point being: She's in her mid eighties, and it wasn't that long ago society would say "ah well, she's had a great innings" and wouldn't expect much more than palliative care before a gentle send-off. Nowadays, (thank goodness) we expect much more, especially from a lady who still gets around her two storey terrace on her own, and cooks and caters for herself.
Roger's friend is even younger, and we have come to be shocked when mere seventy year olds (if fit) suddenly pass on.
When I was visiting my mum for a week or so, I went to see my aunt Margaret in hospital. She was always someone who looked like my own mum, but I did not recognise the little old lady, tiny, almost bald, and about the size of a ten year-old, who inhabited the bed.
Margaret constantly asked of my mother "take me hame, hen", and, probably because of her medication, thought that I was my own late father.
She was in the ward that you don't go home from, sadly.
When you add all these things together you can celebrate a person like Roger's friend, who led a full life, who lived it well, and whose passing was hopefully quick and relatively painless. Better that than months or years in a vegetative state, dosed up on Morphine and not the person everyone knew and loved.
I can just about play football, and everything still works, though not as efficiently as in my youth. That apart, I'm happier now than I have ever been. I can live without being able to play football again, I accept that I may always live in Australia, and there are a few other pleasures I'm ambivalent about. If nothing else, the Aussies are great company, if a little simple, and I'm in the best climate in the world. If I could no longer write or draw, however, I would like anyone who has the heart to inject me with some wonderful sleep potion and send me off to my next life and leave my seat for the next person on this exciting adventure.
