12th August 2017

Rosamund went out down the coast to Whitby to carry on decorating Amy’s little house.

She tried to get Louis to come back and be here for me, but I insisted I wanted to be home alone, to be still, in my own space.

But after a while I needed the toilet. I wandered around the flat struggling to untie my dressing gown belt. Once that was done I found some corners around the right height and managed to work my shoulders out. Dressing gown off. Sorted.

Bathroom. But my pants wouldn’t come down. Thinking about how they ride up and down in bed when I move, I sat on the top stair and wiggled my way backwards. That wasn’t working so I lay back to get more traction. Bad mistake.

As soon as I was lying back I realised I couldn’t get up. 

So there I am lying on the corridor floor at the top of the bathroom steps. I tried rolling myself forward to swing into a sitting position but there was no give in the ground below me and I couldn’t do it. No strength in either arm for even a small amount of lift or push. I thought of wiggling forward and bumping down the steps into a sitting position but realised I wouldn’t be able to lean forward, so could do serious damage twisting my spine backwards. Meanwhile my neck was beginning to remind me that it can’t straighten or roll backwards without pain, and my weakened muscles were losing their residual ability to hold it up. I Shuffled and twisted to one side to rest my head on the radiator, Until the discomfort was too great. Then I shuffled and wiggled around to rest my head on the skirting board on the facing wall. This allowed me a few minutes respite.

But my neck was getting weaker and I was getting more tired. My head was heavy and I was starting to sweat. I tried to work out how long it would be before someone would come.

Time passed. I was getting more desperate. I tried working my legs up the wall but it wouldn’t get me to position where my neck would be supported. I worked backwards and forwards between the two walls, between the radiator and the skirting board. I tried rolling on my side to see if there was any way I could work my way down the stairs to a position I could get leverage in. But the pain in my neck was too much. I desperately needed to keep it supported. I looked at the door behind me. It was open a little but there was no way I could get my arms over my head to open it further. And if I worked my way back to the door then I would be blocking it when help came.

My neck was losing the ability to raise itself to the level where my head could rest on the skirting board or the radiator. But the pain was severe when it was unsupported. I was beginning to panic. No. I was panicking.

I started calling for help. I hoped maybe the people in the flat above me might hear. Initially my calls were dignified, quite civilised. But nobody came. Somebody somewhere turned a tap, or flushed the toilet, and I called louder. But nobody came. I was sweating, frightened, in pain.

As my neck slipped back further the pain sharpened, the prospect of hours and hours were seriously untenable. I yelled louder, my voice starting to break.

Eventually I heard a knocking on the outside door of the flat. At that moment I had real fear that they will not be able to hear me and will go away. I yelled out come in, help, come in please. I heard the inner door opening and a voice saying a tentative hello. I called out again come in, please come in, help. The bathroom door behind me opened. Egon came in. What can I do? He said. help me up please help me sit up.

He got in front of me and arranged to get hold of my arms. Not the arms. From my back. He pushed my back. There were tears on my face, panic and distress and shame in my voice. Egon stayed calm. I counted 1-2-3, and rolled as he lifted and pushed me forward. And then I was up, sitting on the top stair, my feet steady two steps down. Shaking. My pride tried to get me all the way up but I was really wobbly. He said stop. Wait just wait. I sat a few minutes. What do you want me to do? He said. I took a breath, and got to my feet. Just get me to the sofa, I said. I’ll be alright there.