BERMONDSEY GIRLS - Rose Amelia Wigzell - Part 6 - Old Age And Beyond

It was funny at first when Lou retired, having him around all day, it got on my wick for a while but we adjusted.  I carried on with my housework, popping upstairs to see Peggy occasionally, and going shopping on my own when I fancied it.  Lou got busy making wooden models for the kids; you can’t deny it, he is a very clever man.  He made some money boxes shaped like houses and cottages and churches for our daughters and granddaughters, and a wonderful first world war bi-plane all out of pegs, a lovely model of the space shuttle and a speedboat for our one and only grandson, Justin.  And many more things besides.

And of course there was always the library; I went with him sometimes, but mostly I let him go on his own. And after we got our bus passes, there was no stopping us!  When the weather was dry, and sometimes when it wasn’t, we’d get on a bus and go somewhere different to look at the shops; Stratford was a favourite, and in later years it was easier still to get there when they built the DLR from Lewisham.  And of course we could visit Linda and family more regular like, we went Thursdays or Fridays, when the market was on in New Addington.  Linda was looking after her two god daughters Jamie and Katie by then, as well as her own three; lovely girls they are, so sad when when their Mum passed on quite young. They are still a big part of our family.

We used to visit our Min regularly too, right up til she died at 81. We saw Ninny there quite often, mumping her dinner, but after Min’s funeral I never saw her again, though she lived to 99.  I missed Min, the last of my sisters; there was only Ern in Miami and Stan left out of all my lot, and Joanie of course.  Her six kids and her grandkids all came to our surprise Golden Wedding party in 1992; even Jeannie came with her broken leg all in plaster! It was a lovely occasion.

So life went on like most people’s does, centred round the family, and we were thrilled to bits with our five grandchildren, who all did us proud. We enjoyed looking after our Melanie every day for a couple of years when she was small, and I was lucky enough to know her two children as well as Justin’s eldest boy Billy, the only three of my great-grandchildren I ever knew, though there are lots more now.  

Tricia and David had moved away to Leighton Buzzard, right out in the country, so we didn’t see a great deal of them or their two lovely girls.  I’m not a country lover myself, being miles away from the shops don’t suit me a bit, it always seems so bloody cold. And David went down with MS very young, so Tricia had enough on her plate without a couple of old codgers to deal with! But she was there when needed, we were always a close little family.

We were going to spend the last night of the Old Year and the eve of the New Millennium at Linda and Henry’s, but I had been feeling a bit off colour lately; I thought I might be getting the flu so we decided to stay at home.  It was well into 2000 when I decided to go to the Doctors.  I hadn’t told Lou about the strange tummy pains; I had assumed it was an ulcer like my Dad had, and my doctor sent me for further tests.  The verdict was stomach cancer. I was 80 years old then, and that year I managed to get all the way from London to Leighton Buzzard in a minibus taxi with the family to see our Amanda get married, then a couple of months later I was pleased to make it to our grandson Justin’s 21st, a big party in a hall.

 I was like a rasher of wind by then; looking like a skinny bloody scarecrow what with my hair all straggly; I had agreed to have the painful ice cap treatment which was supposed to make you keep your hair whilst on chemo; but lots of it fell out and when it did start growing back some of it was white, which annoyed me because it had been fair up til then, even at my age. My daughter had more grey hairs than I did! Silly to worry about stuff like that I suppose, I’m not really a vain woman. While I was in Samaritan Ward in Guy’s having another chemo session, Linda got a phone call to say our Will’s Joanie had died. I was really upset that I was too ill to go to the funeral.  Lovely girl she was, put up with a lot from that little bugger Will, bless him.

When I got really bad Lou set about making a wooden model of the ship Maloja which he had gone to India on; he got the original shipwrights plans from the Maritime Museum and everything, and scaled it all down.  Such a clever man.  It kept me busy too, helping him with the fiddly bits like the little lifeboats, so at least he had something to occupy his mind when they let me out and he didn’t want to leave me in the flat alone, much as I encouraged him to get used to going out shopping and that by himself.

There was nothing more the doctors could do for me except put a stomach stent in to give me some relief.  The night after the operation I was in Lewisham Hospital, Linda and Henry and their friend Terry were there, (lovely girl, has more than her fair share of troubles but always there to help), and I knew I was very ill.  They called for Justin and the girls to come too; but once again I felt my Mum there beside me, bringing me back.  ‘Not here Rosie’ she said with her lovely smile.  And I pulled round and went home a few days later.  That was the October after the terrible World Trade Centre tragedy, I kept thinking about that when I was feeling sorry for myself, all those poor people. 

They got carers in for me at home, nice girls they were - it was too much for Lou; anyway there’s some things you don’t want your husband seeing.  I felt more or less okay, though I couldn’t eat much; my daughters came every day and the grandchildren too.

But one Sunday, all the kids had been to see me except Justin, who had a bad cold.  I spoke to him on the phone, which surprised him I think, as I’ve never been one for phoning.  Then I put on me glasses for the first time in ages, finished my Take a Break puzzles and lay down for a kip. Next thing I knew Lou was shouting at me – unusual, as he’s not a shouter, and was trying to sit me up with one hand and ring Linda with the other.  It would’ve been funny if it wasn’t so tragic. I fell out of bed on top of him, and he lay there on the floor holding me until Linda and Henry came, and called the ambulance. I could go properly then.  The ambulance people and the police were so kind, and our doctor came out to do the honours.

Henry’s cousin is an undertaker, so they called him.  It’s nice to have family doing things like that for you, lovely boy he is. Used to run a disco on the side.  And that was it on earth for me, though I was never very far away from Lou.  He did well, looked after himself for a long time.  I felt a bit rotten when he was diagnosed with Parkinson’s, as I’d always taken the rise out of him for being slow, and now he was having to cope with a horrible complaint without me there to help.

Still, he’s here with me now, silly old sod still calls me his sweetheart, and we look out for our family as best we can.  He’s getting himself a cuppa at the moment, and a coffee for me.  I never could stand tea. So TTFN, and God Bless.