A Retrospective - Part 2 Arrival at the Hospice

Gear packed along with our (read my)anxiety, we arrived at the hospice.

If there was paperwork, I was not aware of it, I was only able to take in "my room."

This is at the end of a long corridor and (I was to learn later on)one of the later additions to the place, thanks to generous donations that helped to convert a four bed ward into four separate private rooms.

What a room!

It is equipped with mod cons that I do not have at home. Just think, a hospital bed that can be raised or lowered in three places, a flat screen TV a HUGE en-suite with every aid to the infirm you can imagine, a bar fridge and of course cupboard space for your clothes WITH coat hangers, a reading light, and, wonder of wonders, a balcony that you can reach via your own sliding door, equipped with two metal garden chairs and a matching table.

Marvellous!

What people should know is that the location of the place is in itself a miracle of sorts. Set on just a small part of the lake that is the heart of Canberra, the view from "my room" is spectacular. A part of the lake foreshore with two black swans from Western Australia majestically gliding on the surface, seemingly the owners of all they can survey until they have to feed. It is at this time that they come close to the shoreline and bob their long necks underwater until there remains only the view of their nether portions, with two webbed feet scrabbling comically for balance and depth.

Other denizens of this vista, include ducks and their cute little ducklings, magpies that swoop on a crow that seems to have passed into their territory, rabbits everywhere along the banks, with at least four burrows immediately identifiable and at least three or four sets of loving pigeons.

The birds that really draw your attention though are superb wrens and some finches where the male of the species is coloured red around the head and neck. There is more wildlife and some cattle wandering around, but frankly, this is all I could see and name in the brief moments I had after arrival.

We settled in.

My gear was unpacked and stored in the cupboard and the bedside set of drawers I seem to have overlooked in my inventory above. The medicines that were brought from home were strategically placed within easy reach and once again it was explained to me what was where. The controls for the bed, TV and other things were explored until I was familiar with them and then my loved one and I entered what I will refer to here as the "separation and departure phase" of arrival at the hospice. We hugged to ensure that we knew what we would be missing (each other in case anyone needs a hint) and said our good-byes. This was made a unique situation by the fact that for the first time in my life I honestly think I understand the meaning of that American phrase "missing you already."

Leanne decided to delay her departure for another day just to see how I would manage without her.

Leanne left and my adventure, my sojourn commenced, albeit with the proviso that I would see her again the next day.

None of my pre-planning or even simply thinking about what it would be like to stay at the hospice prepared me for what was to come next.

"But that's another story" as the barman said in "Irma la Douce."