Holding back the flood

Who you gonna call?

4:30am

The phone rings. The Duel Of The Fates drags me out of a fitful sleep. I wasn’t feeling very well when I went to bed last night.

“Hello?”

“James, you’ve got to come home: the house is flooding.” It’s my husband.

I hope he’s hallucinating, but I darent take the risk. I throw on some clothes and drive over to the house. I’m really not wanting to drive because of had a light sleep said before I went to bed and I’m not feeling well, but I’m good enough to drive.

An omen

On the way I see a frog crossing the road. I stop the car, pop it in my pocket, and continue on my way. It’s quite a built up area, so I can’t think where he’s coming from of going to. We have a pond.

Noah!

The house is flooding. Water is pouring through the ceiling and the ground floor is soaking. There’s a bucket under the worst area.

I head upstairs. The bathroom really is flooded. The water is pouring out of the toilet cistern.

My brain starts to grind into gear and I turn the water off.

Then I hung down a screwdriver to isolate the cistern. That was a job. The shed is a mess and I cannot find anything in there. Then I returned that he’d been hanging curtains. I find one and isolate the toilet.

Then I start mopping up the bathroom. Not with a mop. Oh no. I can’t find the bloody mop. With a bath mat, which has a noodle style pile. It’s actually very effective.

Tomorrow I do have to buy a mop and bucket.

Mopping up the bathroom takes an hour. I can see what’s happened to the toilet: the cistern is cracked from top to bottom. My husband, in his current altered state, had landed heavily on the seat so hard that the seat itself is cracked as well as the cistern.

Once the bathroom is “dry”, I turn the water back on. The isolator is working. Phew!

Now to mop up downstairs.

That’s when I realised the water had been coming through the light fitting and running down the walls in the electrics. The switches are hot and buzzing.

I find the main part switch and off it goes before we add fire to the catastrophe..

Now I cannot see to do any more mopping. So I go to bed.

Assessing things

8am

His alarms start going off for his morning medications. I didn’t realise what they were until just now. What they were at the time was a bloody nuisance. They went off every five minutes for fifteen minutes.

Then he starts shouting “James! James!” His voice is very slurry. I get up and go to the loo. He passes by cussing me.

I went downstairs. At least the water has stopped pouring through the ceiling. The floor isn’t as wet though, which means that the water has soaked into the laminate flooring – and sure enough there are already signs of delamination.

The most important thing to a smoker?

He was after his cigarettes. I have no idea where they are, so I went to the corner shop to get him some.

There wasn’t much I could have done at the house now, so I went back to the flat. I need to call my dad and take my testosterone.

I do need to buy a toilet, but I think that it’s not as pressing as I first thought: we can fill up a bucket to flush it. I don’t want to try plumbing it in while he’s in this state … I’d be bloody pissed off if he cracked the replacement as soon as it’s put in. I do need to get the mop and bucket though and a child gate to keep the dog safe.

Midday

111

I’ve alerted the mental health team that there is a problem: my husband isn’t safe at the moment. I’m now waiting on their processes to see what can be arranged for him.

I’ve also made the insurance claim to start that process off. I am not clear whether I’m allowed to lift the laminate flooring to allow the floor underneath to dry out. The floor is wrecked anyway.

Here’s a little secret: underneath the laminate is a wooden floor, which I much preferred anyway! Husband wanted the laminate flooring because he didn’t like the weathering on the natural wood.

I’ve also arranged for an electrician to come round today. If I can get the heating back on and some of the sockets working, I can start drying the house out.

Nearly screaming outside

As I was driving back to the house, I became aware that I wasn’t feeling very good at all.

I’m knackered.

I feel an explosion could erupt at any second. The traffic is too slow. Pedestrians keep getting in the way.

I want to SCREAM.

Then I get a call that the electrician is delayed.

I do not know how I am holding it together today.

Immediate repairs

The electrician

He was supposed to get there at midday, but arrived about 2pm. He was only here about thirty minutes.

In that time, we established that the fuse box was safe, but the dining room light switch is dangerous, as it’s the computer power socket. I’ve put green tape over those to try to discourage my husband from trying the lights – and to remind me not to try them either.

That cost £264.

B&Q (other hardware stores are available)

Once the electrician left, I drove over to B&Q to get a toilet, a couple of dehumidifiers, a light switch, a mop and bucket, and a stair gate to keep the dog in the kitchen.

They had everything except the stair gate.

The dehumidifiers were quite heavy, but the toilet was heavier still. Only twenty-seven kilos, but I’m not quite as strong as I was thanks to eight months of very low testosterone. It wasn’t that much of a struggle though.

I had to drive over to Eastleigh to pick up the stair gate. I got some bits for tea as well.

Ungrateful ****

End of my tether

I could see my husband walking back towards the house as I unloaded the car. He actually went to go into the wrong house, so I called to him.

I unloaded the dehumidifiers and started then going. He wanted to know what they were for and whether I’d called a plumber.

He got a bit arsey because I hadn’t called a plumber. He was also aggy about the dehumidifiers. “You’ve always wanted one of those.” He said. “No I haven’t.” I replied, but he was instant. “Have it your way.” I finally said and walked back down to the car to get the toilet itself.

I could really feel myself getting worked up with him. I feel like I can’t take any more of this. However, somehow, I manage to take even more.

Mental health

The crisis team are not going to do anything today, because I’ve managed to get power on and running water. Fair enough I suppose. I still don’t think the house is safe for him.

It could have been worse

He could have electrocuted himself.

I might have been electrocuted.

It might have been the soiled water pipe and not the cistern.

The damage could have been so much worse.