Never underestimate the restorative powers of a Greggs sausage roll
Why a beloved bakery classic will always have a place in my heart
It’s May 2021 and my dad is in Leeds General Infirmary. We have already had “the chat” with a doctor that every family member dreads. And so, it was decided to get dad home to be with his loved ones for however long he had left.
But before this, even though in good spirts (and entertaining the nurses), delirium was setting in. On visits I’d be asked about the beautiful yellow dress in the corner of the room, and recollections about how the doctor brought in a box containing a live human head (cue dad doing a reenactment of said head’s gawping expression!), all recounted with joyous enthusiasm.
One visit, a vigorous request for a Greggs sausage roll was made. Not due to any complaints about the food, more that he just craved a savoury treat. The next day my sister and I arrived with said pastry, only to find that my dad had slipped into unconsciousness. The ward sister advised that my mum (who has mobility challenges) should come in so “no-one would have any regrets” and arrangements were made to get her to the hospital. We all sat together with my sleeping dad, chatting to him - and each other.
At 6pm the nurses asked us all to step outside so they could give him a wash and make him more comfortable, and we duly complied. Sitting outside in the corridor felt like an eternity. I had the heart-stopping realisation that this was probably going to be the last day we would have together.
Around fifteen minutes later, the nurses came out of the room smiling. “You’re not going to believe this, but please go in…”. As we entered back into the room, we were greeted to my dad – not only awake but sat bolt upright and smiling.
“Hiya!” he beamed. Then, in slightly hushed tone he asked, “did you bring me a sausage roll? I’m starving!”. I looked at one of the nurses, “is that okay?” I asked. A plate and a knife were quickly found so that said meaty treat could be sliced into bite-sized pieces. After eating half, my dad professed he’d had enough as he didn’t want to spoil his dinner…which was served promptly and devoured completely.
We went home, and the day after this my dad showed no sign of delirium and miraculously rallied in health. Arrangements were quickly made to get him home and we had a full month of “proper” dad again (when asked if he was hungry, he joked “no thanks, I’m Lithuanian!”). He passed away peacefully at home, which I’m still truly grateful for.
I think about him every time I walk past a Greggs. Maybe, just maybe we got that precious time with him because he knew he had unfinished business with a savoury classic. Seemingly inconsequential things can mean everything. Thank you, Greggs. Who knew that a sausage roll could hold such mighty restorative powers?!
