When my wife was in hospital there was a woman opposite who was 99/100 years old and deep in dementia. Her husband used to visit every day, taking about 1 hour to make the walk from the hospital entrance to the ward where he would sit and regale his oblivious wife with the names of everyone who had died. “Annie, Annie…. do you remember Harry? Not big-nose Harry… raincoat Harry… well he’s dead! And Derek that worked at the pub… he’s dead…” And so on. Then he’d walk the hour back to the entrance and get the bus home. I used to time my visits to coincide with his. I was always half expecting him to tell her that I had died too.
