Hey Mum,
Just thought I’d shoot you a quick email as you asked. We just got home from seeing Nan and she’s… she’s okay. Not quite her usual self. I guess she might never be like her usual self again, will she?
She asked about you, though. It was pretty lucid too – she wasn’t checking on your homework or anything like that. I told her about the trouble you’ve been having with that stingy client in Adelaide she sends her condolences and hopes it sorts itself out soon.
(Actually, what she really said was “hand me my cane, I’m in specialist disability accommodation close to Adelaide.” I managed to talk her out of breaking the guy’s kneecaps for you, but I may have to ask the nurses to bar her door for a couple of nights, just in case.)
The nurses here are lovely too, of course – I imagine that’s why you picked this place, after all. They brought her lunch while we were with her and you should have seen her face light up! I’m sure her soup went cold while she breathlessly introduced us to her favourite nurse. Apparently she’d heard all about us: the “perfect grandchildren”, I believe was the term they used.
Nance sends her love too. She’s sitting next to me on the couch because she’s too cheap to pay for a hotel room. Now I’m being told that if I don’t delete that, Nan won’t be the only one in the family who needs the best community nursing available in Adelaide. I think it’s an empty threat.
We’re both sending you lots of love. The girls are looking forward to the next time you can come out to visit – and Sarah is still dying for that fudge recipe. Let me know if you need anything or if there’s something else I can do or take for Nan for you.
Love,
Steve and Nancy
P.S. It was not an empty threat. She broke my phone.