The Shart.

Mr Lucas,

I’ve just had to perform my own bowel care in the bed, with a finger that can barely reach.
I was able to evacuate a fair amount.

The ‘ nurses’ refuse to help me, on the basis that they are not ‘trained ‘ to perform this function

It’s Saturday and there’s no one that will help until Monday.. it’s NOT ACCEPTABLE that it is this way.

********  came in, I’m covered in excrement, and she refused to help, said she’d go for gloves and then never even came back…

I said I would be going out ( as I have been with careful slide board transfer to chair ) and  ****** says there are no notes to support this, and I cannot leave.

What kind of farcical situation is this?

Now she has found some notes that say I can leave… after half an hour of looking.

Im really disappointed and unimpressed.

Comments?

Russ Dawkins

 

An email sent at 5pm, in response to a pretty shitty situation…literally. How can senior nursing staff refuse to help a patient in such a basic way?

Nevertheless, I refuse to entertain being depressed about it, and revisit The Shard, this time with Pia, such a loyal and devoted friend.

As it was a Saturday night, the place was packed ( if you visit The Shard, DO NOT img_7718go on the weekend, if you can avoid it…)

We do have 2 drinks, but the fancy restaurants are mobbed, so we decline and go elsewhere, at ground level ( and share a pizza and some champagne – which Pia insists upon buying – as a ‘ reward for surviving 4 huge operations, without losing heart, and to the contrary making a massive psychological shift to being happy ‘ )

Thank you to Pia for accompanying me on a night out.

Whilst at the top of the Shard, a Japanese lady walked behind me and definitely said ‘ motherfucker’ in the middle of a Japanese sentence.  I then heard her say it 3 more times!

Anybody know what mother****** means when said by a very civilised looking middle aged Japanese lady?

Its quite possible that she was talking about me, of course

Thank you to Debs, with whom I’ve never yet been to a tall building, but with whom I’d love to, and to Ed and Claire Foss, who’d stopped reading my diary when it looked like I was heading for suicide, and couldn’t bear the thought of that.

It was lovely to meet, and talk to their really mature, empathetic and clever daughter, Lottie.

Views from ground level, below:

Tower Bridge, City Hall, and the Tower of London, all strung together within a short space

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