I don't exist

Two days ago I spoke to my mother, as I do every day, and she had siezed up from a fall the previous week. I tried to contact her house manager and left a message. Since this lady was in a different part of the building, my mother decided to press the emergency alarm. Help arrived immediately, the cavalry in the shape of the manager, her cleaner and the doctor whom I had summoned independently. WH and I set off on the 150 mile drive to to her flat.

The upshot of all this is that she is now in respite care for two weeks and I must arrange help for when she returns home. Not easy anywhere here but the problem is compounded when you are so distant. The doctor thanked me for giving her my phone number, they only had that of my sister in New York. WHAT?????? WHY???

Removing all valuables from Mother's handbag before the trip to the nursing home, we found a diary. 2005.

'Oh it's brand new' says Mother.

'It's last year's' says me.

'Oh I know, I keep it for phone numbers' she realises.

She looks through its' blank pages. On the very last page there is something written. "My Daughter: XXXXXX Phone Number XXXXXX. Address: XXXXXX New York."

I always knew. Now I have written confirmation.