OSAmag88

T h e O l d S t a t i o n e r - N o 8 8
life at the end of a walking stick
On August 15th 2017 I was crushed against the side of my car
by a lorry manoeuvring in a narrow one -way street in Ilford. My
pelvis was badly fractured, but, fortunately, an ambulance rushed
me to the Royal London Hospital. I received surgery to pin my
pelvis together, then spent several months in the Royal London,
followed by a spell in Queen’s Hospital, Romford. I received
physiotherapy, and was ultimately transferred to a local care
home, where I stayed for several months.
I was so relieved to leave the care home to return home on
February 12th this year. The food in the care home was awful,
though the nursing assistants were generally helpful, kind and
considerate. Unfortunately the same could not be said for the
Senior Nurse in charge of the home. She was authoritarian, and
rude. She was accustomed to standing by a window in the dining
hall, barking out her instructions to her underlings. She told me
that she knew that I did not like her, presumably having picked
up some remark that I may have made to one of the staff. My
lack of response to her comment confirmed her suspicions. My
experience of the care home has convinced me that I have
absolutely no wish to end my days in one of those institutions.
My mobility was still very limited, so I had to be taken home in
an ambulance, and carried up the stairs by the paramedics. For
the first weeks of my homecoming I was confined to a first floor
bedroom, not being able to climb up and down the stairs very
easily. The local social services provided a modicum of help for
the first six weeks. A helper came at breakfast and dinner time to
carry meals up to me because it was too difficult for Rita to carry
out that task, though she prepared the food. Apart from that we
were left to our own devices.
I was fortunate to have regular visits from a physiotherapist. He
gave me daily exercises to do, gradually bringing me to the point
where I could slowly manage to climb up and down the stairs.
Social Services tried to pressure us into installing a stair lift, but
Rita pointed out that, if I became dependent on it, recovering
the use of my legs would be impeded. Instead she arranged for a
wooden stair rail to be fitted. Using this and the banister rail I
was able to navigate the stairs. The physiotherapist also took me
for short walks (eg: 25 yards) on the pavement outside.
Before my accident I had been in discussion with the editor of
The Square magazine. He had previously published my article
about the controversial eighteenth century Freemason, Count
Cagliostro. I had mentioned to him that I was a member of
Undine Lodge No 3394, which was founded by a group of
temperance Freemasons, and maintains that tradition to the
present day. He asked me to write a short article about the
Lodge, which I was happy to do so. I duly started work on the
article, but my accident intervened, obliging me to put it on the
back burner. Following my return home, although there had been
a change of editor in the interim, she agreed to publish the article
if I would like to finish it. I was delighted to have this project to
work on, and the article is expected to be published later in the
year.
Eventually I was able, with the aid of a walking stick, to make it
to our car. Some years ago Rita, myself and our two friends
Donna and Walter had taken to driving out into the countryside
on Sundays, weather permitting. We had visited every National
Trust property within a day’s drive of London. We decided to
start visiting pub restaurants along the River Lea. The Jolly
Fisherman at Saint Margaret’s near Ware was close enough to
Nigel Wade
the river to view the motor launches and narrow boats gliding by.
We dined Al Fresco to a sumptuous Sunday Roast. The Fish and
Eels pub at Dobbs Weir was pleasantly located by the river, but
the service and quality of food were somewhat mediocre. The
Princess of Wales at Clapton also nestled by the river, but the soft
drinks service was so slow that we complained robustly.
Fortunately the management compensated us by letting us have
the drinks for free. Unfortunately, once again, the food quality
was below par. Going for a change of cuisine, we tried the
Oriental Star Chinese restaurant at Cuffley. The buffet was
widespread and delicious. Unusual for a Chinese restaurant, they
offered a good range of dessert. Particularly delicious was the
toffee apple, the fruit enclosed in a crisp and mouth-watering
casing. I can thoroughly recommend the Oriental Star to any
Old Stationer looking for an inexpensive, but tasty lunch
Chinoise. We also went farther afield to Leigh-on-Sea. The old
town has a lovely cobbled high street. We found a pleasant art
deco restaurant with a splendid view of the Thames Estuary. I
had a delicious plate of steamed mussels in wine, followed by a
tasty Eton Mess.
One of our neighbours organises a swimming club for the
disabled. Every year she organises a coach trip to the sea side. We
joined the group for a pleasant trip to Clacton. The town seemed
more spruced up than I remember from a previous visit. The
sandy beach was comfortably peopled with day trippers and
holiday makers, enjoying the sunshine as much as if they had
been at the French Riviera. We sampled the delicious ice creams
and soft drinks at the Atlantic Cafe on the broad walk. The
proprietors were quite happy for us to lounge there under the
shade of a parasol.
I cannot thank the large number of Old Stationers enough for
their cards, letters, good wishes, telephone calls and visits. They
have played an important part in boosting my morale and
helping me on the road to recovery. As each day comes, I look
forward to making steps, literally, in the right direction. I am
optimistically looking forward to joining in with OSA activities
in the not too distant future. My sincere thanks to you all.
Nigel Wade
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