Elsie was brought in on a wheelchair. She had on a flimsy blue mac despite the cold February weather and she still had her slippers on. My legs are cold, she said, they were in a hurry and didn't dress me properly. The ambulance man wheeled her to the side of the bed and put her small suitcase on the bed. We helped her out of the wheelchair, sat her on the bed and I pulled the curtains round on the runners hanging on the ceiling. I helped her to undress from her mac, jumper and skirt and put on a pink brushed nylon nightdress that I found in her bag. I took off her slippers, folded her clothes and lay them in the side compartment of her bedside locker.
I don't know why I am here, she said, as I helped her into bed and tucked the bed coverings around her, folding the white sheet over the cream blankets. You are here, I answered, because someone at the nursing home noticed that you were bleeding, and the doctors want to investigate why so that they can treat you. Where am I? she said. I answered that she was in a surgical ward at the hospital. Elsie lay back against the upright pillows and smiled. That's okay then, she said, I am in the right place. Yes, I replied, you really are in the right place.
She slowly sighed. I come here a lot don't I? she said. Yes Elsie, I answered, I remember you coming in a few months ago. We sent you back to the nursing home. I am so sorry to see you again. She answered, that's fine, I remember you were a good nurse, it's good to see you again. After hanging a 'Nil By Mouth' sign above her bed, I took her temperature writing the results on her chart at the end of the bed. I told her to lie still and the doctor would see her in a while then finished unpacking her bag. In it were some tights with a name label for 'Mary' sewn inside. They were certainly in a hurry to pack her off from her care home.
I was on the late shift the following day and started at one-thirty. At handover it was reported that nothing could be done further for Elsie, it was just a matter of time, we would give her all the TLC we could. There she was propped up in the same bed. She smiled at me, asked me if I had a good evening. I said it was great, I had watched TV with my children and husband. How did you get here, she asked. By bicycle, I answered, as always. She said that she used to ride a bicycle when she was younger, she used it to get to work, she worked in a munitions factory in North London during the war but that was a long time ago.
I sat down in the chair by her bed and saw that she hadn't eaten any of her lunch. Are you hungry Elsie? No she said, I don't have an appetite. The ward waitress took her tray away. She told me that her family would be visiting her that evening. She asked me to sit her up straighter against her pillows, and then gave a large smile and sighed happily. I can see Jesus at the end of the ward. He's waving to me. Look! Look! Over there. She pointed. I looked but there was nothing, just a sink, a paper towel dispenser and a mirror. Then she started laughing loudly. Oh it's good, she said, everything is going to be alright. My husband is there with Jesus. He is smiling and telling me to be happy because we will be back together soon. Can't you see? They are both waving to me. I held her hand. She broke it away from my grasp and started waving to the end of the ward, to the unknown.
The next day I was on early shift. Elsie's bed was empty and made up for a new admission.
