Since Saturday night I have been making daily, sometimes twice daily, trips to the local hospital. An elderly friend ended up in A&E and I'm named as her next of kin. As the doctors sat me down, drew the curtains and prepared me for the worst it seemed a huge responsibility. For three nights I sat and talked inanely not knowing whether she could even hear me but not wanting her to be by herself.
Then suddenly a turn for the better and amazing progress over the last two days. She may be tiny and a bit batty but she's a fighter alright. Tonight had regained enough speech to talk to me and has been up on her feet. As she begins her rehabilitation I wonder how long the road to recovery will be.
Each night as I wind my way through the endless corridors toward the cold night I pass various artworks on display in the hospital. The first time I dashed past this bull I thought it was a photograph and only on closer examination discovered it is actually charcoal. It is absolutely huge and acts as a reassuring clue I'm heading in the right direction. When I reach the row of ducks I know I'm nearly there!
The hospital has quite a collection of art work I shall be varying my route in and out in a bid to track down Agnes the horse whom eldest Jammer got to know very well six years ago when Little Jam was a poorly baby.