57. PUT YOUR LEFT HIP IN...

In hospital, Ursula is recovering from a hip operation.

Ursula had spent time during her life visiting people in Brumpton General Hospital but it wasn’t until she was ninety that she was admitted in her own right.

Her hip had been playing her up for years. Just the left side, though the right side was far from perfect it still according to the specialist, had years of life left in it.

“More than you might say for the rest of me,” Ursula had replied with a knowing smile.

“You’ll go on for ever,” he had assured her.

“Chance would be a fine thing,” she frowned, “if surgeons can’t, why should a mere mortal like me?”

And now she was in that hospital and her left hip had its worn out joint replaced with one made of titanium, which was a metal she knew very little about. But now that she had some of it in her she felt a bit like a female version of the six million dollar man.

“At least it’ll see me out,” she told Greendale, who was considerably more frail than she as well as being a year younger. He needed two walking sticks just to get from the bus stop to her ward in the hospital, which was really no distance at all. He had stopped driving a year or so earlier after a glancing collision with a motor bike. It hadn’t been his fault and the motor cyclist accepted all of the blame, but he had surrendered his licence anyway.

“How was it?” he asked, “I mean, the surgery?”

“They didn’t put me to sleep,” she said proudly, “but I took my music dooberry with me and listened to Queen while they were hacking away at me. Freddie Mercury was a great comfort when he hit the high notes!”

“Did it hurt?” he asked, anxiously.

“I didn’t feel a thing, though I did hear a few sounds that were a bit unnerving, in between songs. And I think I actually dozed off a bit!”

“You would,” he smiled at her. “I’m so glad you’re okay. It’s a major bit of surgery for a creaking old body like yours to have to take!”

“Pah,” she grinned at him, “it was nothing. Now what I want you to do is go back home and rest those weary legs of yours because when I’m back on my feet we’re going dancing!”

“I don’t do dancing,” he reminded her.

“Not even when a recovering old lady wants to put her new hip through its paces?” she asked.

“I might stretch the point once, then,” he said, “oh Ursula, I am glad we gave it a try this second time round.”

“We’re both a bit on the crotchety side,” she pointed out to him.

“True, but the sex is as good as it ever was,” he told her in a voice loud enough for Nurse Abercrombie to hear.

“Well, well, well,” she said and she winked at Ursula, “is it true what I hear?”

Nurse Abercrombie hadn’t been a nurse for long and she was both fascinated by her patients, all of them and not just the joint replacement variety, and the lives they lived according to snippets that she picked up on her way round the wards. She looked upon herself as a student of human nature and had she been pursuing an academic course on the subject she thought that she had already, after three years in the hospital, picked up enough to be able to award herself a Masters degree.

“Age is no barrier to fun,” Ursula told her as a reply to the wink.

Nurse Abercrombie considered herself to be a woman of the world. At twenty-six she thought she must have seen it all and experienced most joys that a woman can experience. So she was intrigued by this elderly lady (she consulted the patient notes on a clipboard at the foot of the bed). Ninety! And still apparently enjoying a sex life!

“Is it true?” she asked, “what the gentleman said?”

“Who’s been a naughty nursey eavesdropping on private conversations?” teased Ursula.

“I’m sorry,” the nurse blushed, “but you should ask your boyfriend not to shout so loud when he’s discussing his carnal conquests!”

“You do seem to have developed a domineering loud voice, Greendale,” Ursula told him, then she turned to the nurse and said, “and dear, would you believe it that we were first married almost seventy years ago?”

“I find it hard to believe that you’re as old as seventy,” replied Nurse Abercombie, “but first married? What does that mean?”

“It means we got divorced and spent most of our lives apart,” Ursula told her, “and then we’ve decided to get married again as soon as I’m back on my feet.” She winked at the young nurse, “so that we can make all that sex legal,” she grinned.

“She’ll think we’re at it morning, noon and night, Ursula,” put in Greendale. “Look, dearest, I need the bus to get home and it goes in ten minutes, which is about as long as it’ll take me to hobble to the bus stop.”

“You poor old soul,” grinned Ursula, “but thanks for coming, darling. “I’ll be back home soon, so make sure the pots are washed.”

“I always do.”

Then he wearily made his way past her bed and out of the door.

“He’s a treasure,” sighed Ursula.

“How come you got divorced, then?” asked the nurse, “you seem so perfect together.”

“It was the war,” Ursula said, shaking her head, “it shook everything up and took the life out of the seed in Greendale’s balls, which didn’t help.”

“Which war?” asked the young nurse, “Vietnam? I’ve heard about that.”

“Before then,” sighed Ursula, “the second great war against Germany, though to tell the truth there was absolutely nothing great about it. We should be wary of wars, dear, they’re how old men get rich and famous and young men get killed. That’s what happens, it’s what’s always happened, and it still carries on. Maybe with a united Europe things will slowly get better. It’s to be hoped that’ll be the case, but then, where will the old men find their wealth?”

“That’s quite a cynical way of looking at things,” murmured Nurse Abercrombie.

“When you’ve lived for the best part of a century you’ve got the right to be a bit cynical,” Ursula told her, “I only hope that the human race has learned enough to stop further big wars before they start. And Europe is where they started, those that were most damaging, and maybe with a Europe that’s united and tied together with all the countries busy buying and selling things from each other there will be a chance for lasting peace. I hope so for your sake, and your children’s.

“I haven’t got any children yet,” sighed the nurse, “though I have got a boyfriend and maybe, who can tell, we might one day...”

Ursula nodded. Greendale and I had a daughter,” she said, “and she lived a lovely life until that bloody cancer got her. It was her funeral that brought Greendale and me back together again.”

“Cancer’s a terrible thing,” murmured Nurse Abercrombie, “and it’s another battle that’s got to be won. That and war. Two blights on the human race.”

“It’s easier to win the battle against war, though,” said Ursula, “we’ve all of us got to be friends with each other. Gay or straight, black or white or any colour in between, and when that happens we’ll not have any more wars.”

“I think you must be right,” nodded the nurse, and she moved off to check other patients in other beds. Ursula watched her as she went, then settled back and closed her eyes.

But only for a moment.

“Hello dear,” came an almost familiar voice.

Griselda Entwhistle had popped in to see her with a little bottle of her own special tonic.

© Peter Rogerson 05.09.18

Reviews

[barleygirl]

This is, far and away, the best dialogue I've read in forever. You do an amazing job of telling story after story thru mainly dialogue. I'm so in awe of this. It seems these more recent stories have a bit of playful sexual content, making for a delightful contrast between your somewhat crotchety oldsters storytelling & these surprising spots of "carnal conquest" (great phrase!) I'm amazed at what a diverse character reveal you do thru only dialogue & some basic dialogue tags. And it always flows so naturally & sounds authentic for the character you share! (((HUGS))) fondly, Margie