Bert in the bath - Sue

Getting his right leg over the edge of the bath is not too difficult and awkward but right now Bert is sitting astride the narrow lip, cursing and swearing at his sore and aching body. He grabs behind his left knee, interlinks both hands and lifts. His bony bottom wobbles and slips a bit but somehow he stays safely on the edge of the bath. Next he swivels around and helps his left leg into the water. He rests. Today his hips are giving him grief and this morning he had barely got around the supermarket. He had shuffled and puffed despite the trolley being a good walking frame.

The pale pink bathroom wall is peeling around the door frame and the net curtains look frayed and holey. He hasn’t the heart to replace them. Elsie for some weird reason loved the little roses around the frill at the bottom. Hanging unevenly over the taps the blue hose like shower contraption looks as if the ends have shrunk and some of the holes are blocked with soap.

His knees eventually stopped creaking and grinding so he gingerly lowers himself into the warm soapy water. “Aaaaah”.

A little yellow duck sits in the corner just alongside the taps. Bert’s great grandson must have left it last week when he stayed. Bert throws his flannel at it, and luckily the duck plops into the water. At first it just sits there but as Bert moves just a tiny bit, the duck starts cruising around in circles. It rests so gently on top of the water, he appears to float and then glide. So easily, with no effort.

The circles of water get bigger and Bert suddenly realises he’s moving his legs like a frog. It’s so simple, just automatic. There’s no pain. He tries little kicks and the duck bounces over the wash. He giggles.
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Bert’s at the swimming pool, down in the shallow end. His legs look smoother and stronger as he looks down into the clear blue water and he’s very proud of his new red boardshorts that his daughter helped him buy. He flexes his arms and even imagines little bicep muscles. He no longer notices his gnarled and nobbly fingers.

He’s got a floatie around his waist and he dog paddles into the middle of the pool, slightly out of his depth. The whistle blows and Bert lines up with the rest of the class.

“Up and scissor” shouts Marie the teacher.
“Stride and stride. Come on gents, pretend you’re on the golf course”
Bert’s strides are tiny but definite. He feels the water swishing between his legs and he can feel his arms resisting the waves. He huffs and puffs and laughs, all at the same time. He smiles as he remembers his daughter’s words on the phone last night.

“Dad, you’re wonderful. Your voice sounds stronger and happier. And I know you’re feeling fitter than you have for years. Good for you Dad. I love you”