16
Paul’s mother lay on a bed, surrounded by a range of paraphernalia reading her vital signs. Her skin was pallid without makeup. She had never been the kind of mother to stroll around in curlers and her dressing gown, and even at six in the morning she wouldn’t have been caught without makeup. Now she was almost a stranger.
He ran his eye over the various digital read-outs. His mother’s oxygen levels weren’t great, and it wasn’t a good sign that her bed was closest to the nurse’s desk where they could most easily keep an eye on her.
A nurse walked over to him and said, “Dr Brandon has just arrived and would like to talk to you.”
Paul stood, gave his mother’s hand a squeeze. “Mother, I’m going to find out what’s happening.”
The nurse directed him to a small room outside the entrance
