← All updates 12 August 2026 · 01:00 read

Day thirty-eight: three days, the same silence

After the conversation of 9 August it is silent again: three days in a row, the ward telephone goes unanswered. The facts have been shared with the independent client confidant.

On Sunday 9 August I spoke with my mother — a good ten minutes, the first direct contact after a week of unanswered attempts. She was clear. Her breathing was heavier than before. Her question was the same as in the first week: how much longer?

Illustration of the same care-facility corridor, now in the evening: a silent telephone on an empty desk, the chair pushed aside, the clock at half past eight, closed doors in the dark. An impression, not a photo of the actual situation.
Illustration — half past eight; the telephone stayed silent. An impression, not a photo of the actual situation.

Since then it has been silent again. Three days in a row, every attempt went the same way: reception answers and puts me through to the ward. There the telephone rings, sometimes for minutes. No one picks up. Then the calling window is over.

To the written request of 7 August — to safeguard the daily calling moment and to confirm how she is doing — no substantive response has yet been received. Every attempt is in the file: date, time, what happened.

The independent client confidant asked the family this week to limit communication to factual information, which she assesses independently. The family is doing exactly that: the facts — the attempts, the dates, the unanswered request — have been sent to her. Dated. Complete.

What stands firm: every time my mother was reached these past weeks, she was clear and unchanged in her wish. Out of the closed facility — home, or to a place she chooses herself.

This is day thirty-eight. I write down what happens, because my mother cannot — and because a day will come when people ask how this was allowed to happen.

We are not done.