"Before They Call, I Will Answer, While They Are Still Speaking, I Will Hear." Part Two.

Myself and Paul, we were carers for my brother Eric. We were unofficial carers. He came to our home, after we had just got married. He had seen us up Town, Eric had invited us to his brand new flat. He had been in a care home; amongst other things he had   schizophrenia. Before that, he had been in a hospital for his mental health.

Just before he moved into his brand new flat, Paul and I had gone to visit him in the care home, the Manager told us, “You are his first and only visitor that has ever been here, since he had lived here all these year.”

He had left home in his late teens; he didn’t want anything to do with us. He would come and visit us in his car, every two or three years. Mum always gave him money for his birthday and Christ mas. On one of his visits, he had told Mum that he’d been in hospital, he’d named it, which meant nothing to me, but Mum who was a nurse, knew it was a hospital for mental health. Mum told us that, after he had gone.

Paul and I went to visit him, soon after he had moved into his new flat, it was perfect.

Eighteen years later, Eric came to our home in a taxi, he said, “Please can you help with my food shopping?” We swopped phone numbers and arranged to go to his home.

When we walked into his flat again, 18 years later, we were completely shocked! There was 18 years of dust, dirt, clutter and more, it was shocking. I asked him, “Do you have a social worker?” He said, “No,” Looking at the state of his flat, he had been completely abandoned. How can someone, who had been in the mental health system for most of his adult life, suddenly not need them? How could they just close the case? Did they think, because he has moved out of the mental health hospital, the care home, and wherever else he had been, that now he was, cured?

He was on medication for his mental health, and collected his benefits from the local post office.

Without going into any deep detail, he looked dreadful! No exaggeration, he looked like a tramp. His clothes were torn and dirty, he was unshaven with matted beard and hair. His flat looked worst!

We came to an agreement, to do with his food shopping for now he walked with a cane. At first, he paid for the taxis for me to do his shopping, then later, he paid for my petrol to use my car, and for my time, that I would give to him. Even on my days off, which I value and love pyjama days, I would get dressed and do his shopping.

Then he wanted take aways, he would go through phases, first it was Nando’s, he would say to me, “You and Paul get what you want from there too.” We did, and it was lovely, but then it became too much too often, and when he asked, “Didn’t you want anything?” I would say, “We had the money instead of the food, is that OK?” Eric replied, “Yes of course.” Our Nando’s is the other side of Town.

Another phase he had, was to have a large fish and chips, my favourite meal on Earth! But after a while, we decided to have the money instead, as we were skint. There was a lot of shopping we could get, each with the money than to have a chippy. Plus, although I don’t do healthy eating, it was not healthy!

After Eric I met up again, I got him connected to a social worker, and Nurses who came to his grubby flat, to see to his poorly leg. The nurses they were fabulous. I also got him a cleaner, he paid for them to come, they came in twos. They were limited at to what they could clean, as he had clutter. Remember those huge tellies? The very heavy ones with the deep large back? He had three of those in in lounge! I said, “Do they work?” He said, “No, they are broke.” I said, “Well why don’t you let Paul throw them away?” He replied, “No I want to keep them.”

I would take his laundry to the laundrette. Each week I did that, then one week when I took his washing which was always ready for me in a black bin liner sealed, the manager of the laundrette said, to me, “When we opened the bag today, there was maggots in it!” I was as horrified as them! She went on, “If we find this again, please don’t bring his washing here.” I said, “OK.” “That was from his bad leg,” The nurse had told me later.

I would drive him to all his hospital appointments and his visits to the doctors. When it was in the city, I would not drive but go with him in a taxi. My little car was clocking up a lot of miles, where before it was very low, as I either walked to work and Town or used my car. It was a win-win situation as he paid me for everything. Sometimes, he would just give me money, one day when I went to his flat, he gave me £200 I asked, “What is this for?” He replied, “For being my sister.” I couldn’t thank him enough. We were hundreds of pounds in the red, at the time.

I had set up for him, where he could be connected for help, this service, he paid for monthly so that where ever he was in his flat, all he had to do was press the button with the necklace around his neck, and in a second, he was talking to someone. They could hear him, wherever he was in the flat. If he needed an ambulance, they would ring one for him and within minutes the ambulance would be there. Mental illness is no joke! There is a specialist shop in the Town, the nurse told me, “Get his socks from there, that will help with his diabetic, swollen legs.” I went there and got him three pairs, costing £20 a pair! One day, Eric said, “I want a reclining chair, I knew exactly where to go, I went back to the specialist shop, I saw the perfect chair for him. He hadn’t slept in his bed for years; it was the dirtiest bed I had ever seen. It was just a mattress, with the springs showing through, in parts. He agreed on the price and he’d seen the photos. I went and paid for it. It was delivered by two men as it was heavy.

The dirty sofa that he had been sleeping on, he still kept it and the new clean chair went next to it. This was his new ‘bed.’ Eight months later, I noticed that he had piles of magazines on his new chair, I asked, “Why?” Eric said, “It’s haunted, it moved on its own, I won’t sleep in it again.” Once he got something in his head, that was it! From the same specialist shop, I had bought him at his request wide fitting slippers, I had bought two pairs for him to try on, and he picked the one he liked. He was like a recluse now, the other pair I took back, I had used his ‘clean’ foot to try it on. For the other foot, was bandaged, with the liquid often dripping from it, as it seeped through it. These slippers were not cheap.

Three weeks later, as I went up the stairs to his flat, I saw the new slippers outside his flat door. They too had spooked him. Inside his flat, I encouraged him to keep them, his mind was made up.

The social worker that I had help to get him with the help from the doctors’ referrals from me, and the doctors home visit, the social worker, decided to try and get him a new nice flat, as the one he was living in was awful even with the cleaners trying to do their bit.

Eric wore a ring; it made his finger black and blue from the material of the ring. When I noticed it, I pointed it, out to him that, “It wasn’t doing him any good,” Eric replied, “If I take this ring off, I will die!”

We were on call 24 hours a day as time went on, I did his shopping, got his many take aways, many times a week. One night, at 11.45pm he rang me and said, “Help me, Rageh Omaar is speaking to me from the telly, come quick!!” I got out of my pyjamas and got dressed, and Paul and I raced to him flat, he was all in a panic, his breathing was quick. Paul didn’t know who Rageh Omaar was. Paul was fantastic, he changed the telly over and put it on a radio station with calming classical music and them he asked him, “Have you taken your medication today?” Eric said, “No,” Paul asked, “Where is your tablets, he pointed to them, Paul gave them to him and he took them, next he got a paper bag and told him, “Breathe into this bag it will help you.” Eric did and it worked! His breathing changed and he became calmer. We stayed with him for 30 minutes until we knew he was ok then we drove back home.

One night he rang me at 4am, it seemed had hadn’t slept for over 24 hours, his words were scary and very confused. After that, I didn’t sleep with my mobile in the bedroom again. Both Paul and myself spoke to him that night.

I now had a key to his flat, so that when he had his bouts in hospital, I would still have access to his flat. One day I went to his flat, with his food that I had bought for him, I pressed his door bell but there was no reply, I knew he was in there so after no reply I went in, he wasn’t in the living room, but in the bedroom on the dirty bed! He was very pleased to see me and said, “I have been stuck in the bed for a week, I am unable to walk,” He clearly wasn’t well, for the last time I had seen him was 3 days before. I said, “Have you been to the loo?” He said, “No, I am unable to walk,” I said, “Well how did you go to the loo?” He showed me the bottles of urine. I asked him, “Please get out of bed,” He said, “I can’t, I need an ambulance to take me to hospital.” I rang for an ambulance and they arrived quickly, they came into his dirty flat, and asked him lots of questions and they got a chair, and took him down the two flights of stairs in it, it had special wheels, it was amazing to watch. He was strapped into to chair with a blanket. We worked tireless with him, Paul and I. Eric often said to us, “Without you two, I would have died by now,” He was right!! He could have rung us, but when he was unwell, he didn’t know to use his basic mobile, it was a special one for older people. He wasn’t old, he was only 2 years older than me. He got on really well, with both of us. When he was well, he was really clever, he was an artist like Paul. Some artist it seems to me, that they are close to the edge of insanity. I once worked with a lovely artist, she was great, then suddenly one day, she was completely unwell. She was SO unwell; she had to leave work. Then she told us, as work before she went, “I have had mental health problems, years ago.” None of us knew, nor suspected. I saw her years later, in her other job, she didn’t look well, she said to me, “I have been unwell, but I am feeling a lot better now,” But she still didn’t look like how I had known her, when I worked with her.