It seems the mammy has broken her wrist and shoulder, but is otherwise in excellent condition for her advanced age. She's still spaced out,with no idea of how/when/where she fell, but seems to be regaining some sort of recognition of reality(...never her strong suit.)
I feel sick, naturally, but must admit that my first thoughts were largely of being forced to go to NY for deathbead/funeral horrors, and having to try and get my Serbia-ticket money back fron JAT (not bloody likely, knowing them-)
Now, I feel guilt, of course, and concern for my poor sister, stuck there indefinitely. Some arrangements are going to have to be made now to have Ma supervised, if she still insists on staying on in 'heart attack house'.
I suppose I shall have to go there, in the next few months, anyway, to give my sister a break. How this is going to be managed financially, catwise, etc. etc. I do not know.
My sister arrived in time to feed her dinner and listen to her scrambled blatherings for a while. I heard myself asking 'Keep notes on her hallucinations, they might be useable...' (Yes, I hate myself for it, but I yam what I yam.)
The hospital staff said she wasn't able to speak on the phone, probably wouldn't know who I was, anyway. Jeez, what is life, anyway? ...The bitter musings of 'the King of Scotland' come to mind, but I'm not taking chances on quoting. Things are quite hairy enough.