grandfather’s in the hospital now after a furious onslaught of dementia, diabetes, fractures and a bedsore which has all but eaten his body alive. the ward, while peaceful, has wilted him into soft sighs and all too prominent bones, tattoos skewed on the flesh dripping off his skin. standing by his bedside my stoicism rises to amaze me again – i bore no tears, no apologises and an earnest prayer for respite from pain.
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