WhatsApping Great Grandma
When my ninety six year old mother fractured her pelvis (by falling after a jamboree at the retirement block) I found myself stranded solo in Leeds and under bombardment from our large extended family for news. So we set up a WhatsApp group and invited three generations of family to come on board. The interaction was brilliant. Why hadn’t we thought of it before? Photos of our beloved matriarch in hospital gown solicited much sympathy, with promises of prayer – mostly from the older generation I noticed. Mind you it wasn’t for everyone. One sibling had opted out of the electronic age on retirement and a brother in law left the group, unable to cope with the volume of traffic. Things settled down with steady news updates from me. On day two I visited to find Mum in adversarial mode, refusing all pain relief and eating a hearty main course followed by steamed pudding. This was good, came the responses. But I was not so sur...