On Friday night, I sat down with L when she came back from her friend’s house. I told her that the unit called, that we had discussed a possible discharge, based on the lack of progress. She was tearful, and I really tried to balance between being tough, but being supportive too.
On Saturday morning I woke up still feeling sad. She came downstairs and set about making breakfast. I asked her how she was feeling. “Determined” was the answer.
And sure enough, determined she was. GBK veggie burger at lunch. Chinese takeaway at dinner. Lunch out with her dad. And lasagne for tea. Chocolate brownie for dessert. Snacks without argument. No coaxing, all weekend.
I daren’t hope that this is a turning point. But, of course, with the eternal optimism of someone who wants their loved ones to get better, I do.