“Can we get you anything, Sammy? We could nip to the shop downstairs, or else pop back later in the week,
bring stuff in, if you need it?” Raymond looked at me for confirmation and I nodded. I had no reason to dismiss the suggestion.
It was actually quite a pleasant feeling, thinking that I might be able to help an elderly person who was suffering due to inadequate nutrition.
I started to think about what to bring him, types of food that could be transported without mishap.
I wondered if Sammy might enjoy some cold pasta and pesto; I could make a double portion for supper one evening
and bring the leftovers to him the next day in a Tupperware tub.
I did not own any Tupperware, having had no need of it until this point. I could go to a department store to purchase some.
That seemed to be the sort of thing that a woman of my age and social circumstances might do. Exciting!
“Ach, son, that’s awful kind of you,” Sammy said, deflating my sense of purpose somewhat, “but there’s really no need.
The family are in here every day, twice a day.” He said this last part with evident pride.
I can’t even finish half the stuff they bring. There’s just so much of it!
I end up having to give most of it away,” he said, indicating the other men on the ward with an imperious wave of his hand.
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