A Fall in The Toilet
Mom brought back some cakes, but I didn't have the energy to eat them. I've been lying down almost all day.
Thinking that was not so good, I tried doing some sit-ups on my futon. I could only manage one.
The summer holiday's starting tomorrow. Mom's telling my brothers and sisters to discuss what they will do
so that they won't all go out at the same time. That's reassuring. I'm sorry to be such a burden. I'll make
an effort to get better, so please forgive me.
When I go to the toilet, either Mom or Ako comes with me. They help me to pull down my pants and sit on the
toilet. Then they wait for me outside. One day, I swayed to one side and fell down with a thud. I don't know
how it was cut, but my finger was bleeding. I lost consciousness.
The next thing I knew, I was in bed. I could see the blurred faces of Mom, my sisters and my brothers. Then
again I fell into sleep. I could vaguely hear Mom's voice somewhere in the distance saying, "You were just
unsteady because your blood pressure was low. Don't worry about it and sleep well."
A stable iron toilet seat weighing more than seven kilos has been installed. The family chose it at the shop
selling special equipment for the disabled in Nagoya. At the same time, they got a bead mat for me (to help
avoid bedsores) and a sheet to prevent the mattress getting dirty.
Also a small desk with short legs (with writing tools, notebooks, letter paper, and so on) was put within my
reach. On top of it there's a bell which produces a loud sound when it's rung.
Now I spend most of the day sleeping. I'm scared of food going down my respiratory tract by mistake because
I can't swallow well, so I can only eat a small amount three times a day. I eat so slowly that lunchtime
comes round just one hour after breakfast.
My whole day is taken up by eating, sleeping and evacuating. What's more, someone has to help me do all
those . . .
I think my life has finally reached the point where it's just one step before it will impossible to stay at
home.
I've decided to stop thinking on and on about my disease.
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