Friday, April 28, 2006


I walked into my bedroom tonight and heard the little voice on the intercom, ‘Help!’ I dived into Joy’s room; she was lying across the double bed, not hurt, but lost and scared, and wet. When I got to her I gave her a great big hug, and she had a little cry. She didn’t know what had happened, except that she was wet and getting cold. She’d taken off her underwear and pad (which was dry) and wet the Kylie mat on the bed. She said she didn’t remember taking off the underwear and she knew that she wasn’t supposed to get out of the bed. I moved her over to her commode, right beside the bed and changed her nightdress. I was making her laugh now, telling her that everything was alright and that she was a silly old bat. We laughed at that, and I gave her another lovely hug. I got a fresh Kylie mat and tucked her back up again, saying, ‘Keep your knickers on!’ I left her laughing to herself. She is such a sweetie; you just want to wrap her up in cotton wool; she’s like a little precious bundle, so delicate and fragile. I know she’s slipping away now; she is very breathless when she’s walking. Every morning I’m expecting silence to meet me when I go into the room to wake her up.

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