Last conversations with my mother
No matter your age, it comes as a seismic shock when your mother loses her mind. Twelve years ago, my 80-year-old mom – gracious, selfless, clean-living – phoned me, off her head.
She was in hospital, due to have a hip replacement the following day. “They’ve given me morphine,” she boomed down the line. “It’s absolutely marvellous!”
Then, she lowered her voice conspiratorially. “All the nurses are spies, so I can’t talk.” With that, she hung up. “I wouldn’t mind some of
