I was so scared I was going to lose Bruce

A deeply emotional Bruce Forsyth’s wife reveals just how seriously ill he’s been after a life-saving op for two aneurysms

Lady Wilnelia Forsyth is grinning fit to burst. Earlier this week she took her husband, Bruce, to hospital for a scan to check whether a lengthy operation to repair two life-threatening aneurysms had been successful. It was.

‘They had to see if all the stents [small tubes inserted to keep arteries open] are in the right place and there hasn’t been a leak,’ she says. ‘They showed us a picture. It’s amazing. I think we’ve gone around the corner now, especially today. I want to celebrate knowing he’s going to be OK.

‘It’s been a really, really big worry for me — a very emotional two months. I’ve been in tears at times, but have been trying to be positive in front of Bruce, telling him he was going to get better. It’s easy to say, but you just don’t know . . .’

The sentence trails away and Wilnelia’s eyes darken as she considers the unthinkable. For, make no mistake about it, 87-year-old Sir Bruce has been through a terrible ordeal.

When I arrive, he is resting upstairs in their warm, family home on the edge of the Wentworth golf course in Virginia Water, Surrey.

It is where he has spent most of the past two months since falling in his bedroom on October 8. In truth, it’s a miracle of sorts he is here at all.

For were it not for the fall — which left his face horribly bruised — two unrelated aneurysms, twice the size of a golf ball, would have remained undetected.

‘He had every scan and test possible to try to find out why he’d fallen. The two aneurysms showed up on a body scan. It’s what they call a silent killer,’ says Wilnelia.

‘an aneurysm is like a blood-filled balloon where the side of your artery bulges out. Usually they operate if it’s bigger than 5cm. Bruce had one in the aorta here (she puts a hand on her stomach), which was 7cm, and one in the renal artery (she gestures toward her kidney), which was 7.9cm.

‘at any moment, they could have burst inside him and if that happens, 85 per cent of people don’t make it to the hospital in time.

‘We were supposed to be going to Puerto Rico for Christmas. Can you imagine if anything like that had happened on the plane?’ She shudders.

Bruce is, she says, ‘my husband, my lover, my mentor, my friend’.

Throughout their 32-year marriage he has been as fit as a flea.

So much so that Wilnelia, 58, has barely given a thought to the 29 years that separate them — until now, that is.

‘I’m not ready to lose him yet,’ she says. ‘This has scared me to death, particularly waiting in that hospital when he was having his operation. That felt like an eternity.

‘Because of Bruce’s age there are so many risks involved. One of his best friends, Norman angel, passed away last year at the age of 91 after having an operation, so all those things go through your mind.

‘you think: “My God, will he come out all right?” But you have to trust the doctors.

‘The alternative — not having the surgery — was worse. It’s like you’re in a corner. you’re damned if you do and damned if you don’t, because this is such a fatal thing.’

Wilnelia spent the night before the operation on November 12 with Bruce in his private room at the Royal Free Hospital in Hampstead, North London. In fact, she remained with him for his entire sevenday stay.

‘I couldn’t be any other place,’ she says. ‘I knew I’d be worrying about him. The nurses are wonderful, but it’s not the same as having someone there who loves you.’

On the morning of the operation, before going down to the operating theatre, Bruce gave her a letter.

‘I opened it after he’d left. It was very beautiful. It made me cry. It was a love letter. He included the song lyrics “I don’t care how much it may storm, I’ve got my love to keep me warm”.

‘ I can’t tell you the rest because it’s very personal, but it was incredible. He was telling me one more time about his love for me.

‘ Once I was alone, I was crying, but was trying to be positive. I remember praying. I pray a lot. I was even praying to his friend Norman. I was saying: “Norman I know you miss my husband, but please get someone else to play golf up there.”

‘as I finished my prayer, the door opened and it was Bruce’s girls. [Bruce has five daughters, debbie, Julie, Laura, Charlotte and Louisa, from his two previous marriages, and a 29year-old son, Jonathan Joseph — known by everyone as JJ — with Wilnelia.]

‘Bruce hadn’t wanted the children to come to the hospital because he didn’t want them sitting there worrying about him, but there they were.

‘We hugged each other and they stayed there with me through all that time — the operation took five hours.

‘Then suddenly the doors opened and it was the two doctors to let us know everything had gone OK, but they’d taken him to intensive care.

‘We cried so much. It’s such an emotional thing when you care so much for someone.’ Wilnelia’s eyes fill with tears as she talks.

‘Shock’ is the word she uses to describe the past few months. a shock for her and truly shocking for Bruce who, as she says, ‘has never really had anything wrong with him’ before now.

Because of his discomfort, he has not been the easiest of patients, though. So much so that Wilnelia is not too sure how she would have coped without the support of her step- daughters, whom she loves dearly, and her son.

‘They’ve been my angels — my rock,’ she says. ‘This operation has taken so much energy from him, but he’s so much better now. Look.’

She shows me a photograph of Bruce on her iPhone with the latest of his ten grandchildren, anastasia, born just four weeks ago, before flicking through to one of a bowl of porridge with raisins arranged in a smiley face.

‘That was to make him laugh.

‘I’m not ready to lose my husband yet’