Today I helped one of my community nursing colleagues by visiting her patient, Brian.
When I arrived at Brian’s house I was struck by how overgrown the garden was – there didn’t even seem to be a clear way to the front door. After I got my gear together I managed to find an over grown path that wove its way towards the front porch. I was truck by how unused the path was-by how lush and overbearing each plant was and how the lawn was taking control of the garden beds. Not many people had ventured up this path in the last few weeks.
I stepped up onto the porch to knock on the front door – my colleague had said to knock loudly as Brian had very poor hearing from industrial deafness. To my surprise the floor gave way and I was thrown off balance, landing on my side with my foot stuck in the broken boards. I was all right, just a little shaken. But how can things get this bad when you live in Wiimali? Don’t neighbours notice and offer to help? Who gets the post and puts the bins out? How do people survive like this?
Story by Heather