This was it. This was the moment that he had to admit his health wasn’t great and that it might ruin the rest of his life. Worse than that, it might impact on Nigel’s life too, and he really didn’t want the old man to worry. He’d had years of worry – worry that came from living through a war, and the worries of everyday life – and now, at his age, he deserved to relax and enjoy himself. But there was no way around it now the consultant had confirmed a diagnosis and it was already beginning to affect Tom’s life. He had to man up and just get the words out.
‘I’ve been having a bit of trouble with my eyesight recently, Grandad, and I went to see a doctor – well, a consultant actually.’ Nigel cocked his head, listening intently. ‘He told me that I had a condition called Retinitis Pigmentosa.’ He took a deep breath, but Nigel didn’t speak, letting Tom go on at his own pace. ‘It means I’m going to lose my peripheral vision completely and possibly go completely blind.’
Nigel kept quiet, taking in all that Tom had said. For Tom, there was a fleeting sense of relief that the words were finally out, but watching his grandad’s face and trying to gauge his reaction was heartbreakingly difficult, knowing he could be changing his grandad’s life as well as his own. A resident shouted out, ‘Melon balls,’ in answer to the game show they were watching on the TV, shattering the bubble of silence between them. On any other occasion, Tom would have found it funny, but then Nigel reached out and took his grandson’s hand, holding it tightly. ‘How long, boy?’
‘They can’t tell me.’ The stinging in his nose and throat took his breath away as he held back tears. Nigel’s thin, papery skin felt cold over his hand. ‘It’s a degenerative condition and everyone’s different. It could be months or years. I just don’t know. But I don’t want you to worry about anything, Grandad, okay? I’ll find a way to pay for the care home even when I can’t work anymore. Mum and Dad pay half and I won’t stop paying my bit, even if I have to sell the shop. You won’t have to leave. I promise.’ He was speaking quicker and quicker and when he finished, he was glad that it was all out yet reticent of the repercussions.
‘Now hold your horses, boy.’ Nigel’s voice was strong and forceful. ‘I don’t care about where I live. I mean I like it here, and even Tracey isn’t that bad at times.’ He raised his voice for the last part of the sentence so Tracey could hear him.
‘I heard that!’ she shouted from her place behind the desk. ‘No mince pies for you, young man!’
Grandad chuckled. ‘Young man? Ha!’ But then his face and voice lost all humour and became serious once more, lowering his voice again. ‘Tom lad, all I care about is you. Since your mum and dad decided to emigrate – and I don’t begrudge them going off and making a life for themselves – it’s been just the two of us, hasn’t it? You’re all that matters to me. Now, what’s the state of those eyes at the moment?’
An unexpected grin appeared on Tom’s face at his words. He was always to the point but never cruel. ‘I find it really hard to see in the dark and when the light changes. I get headaches and I’ve already started to lose some of my peripheral vision.’
‘So, what can we do about that? Have you contacted the RNIB? There’s lots of things you can do to make life easier for yourself. Tracey’s helped me beyond measure.’ He sounded like an advert for visual impairment. ‘Actually, that gives me an idea.’
‘What?’ Tom asked, slightly concerned at what that idea might be. As long as it didn’t involve Nell, he’d probably be okay with it.
‘Tracey? Tracey?’
‘Oh, no, Grandad,’ Tom said quickly. He wasn’t quite ready to have everyone know yet, but Tracey was already bustling over. ‘Grandad, I don’t think I want to share the news with anyone else—’
‘Rubbish,’ he replied. The matter wasn’t up for discussion.
‘Yes, my lovely, what can I do for you?’
‘Now, Tracey.’ Nigel’s voice rang with sincerity and fondness. ‘You’ve helped me and lots of others with bad vision – or no vision – as is my case. What can we do to help our Tom here?’
‘Oh?’ Shocked, Tracey turned to face Tom. He sighed, scratched his head and then explained everything, swearing her to secrecy until he’d told the others closest to him: Cat, Nell and his parents. ‘Oh, Tom, I am sorry, love. But it’s not the end of the world, believe me. You can use magnifiers for your close-up work, we have those for some of our residents. You can get thin plastic ones that you carry around for reading things on the go and then there are quite high-tech ones for workstations that don’t move at all. I saw them on a video on YouTube once. We don’t really need those here, but you might want one for work. And you need to find ways of storing your tools, so you know exactly where everything is. Could you wear safety gloves to make sure you don’t hurt yourself? You do a lot of cutting with very sharp objects, don’t you? So that might be an idea. Make sure your walkways are clear and that your staff know not to put things there. You can get fabulous little stick-on lights now and you can put them everywhere so you can make sure anywhere you need extra light, you’ve got it.’
Tom sat there silently marvelling at this wonderful lady. She went about her business everyday caring for people, probably unappreciated, but was like an encyclopaedia
