Day 14

Day 14: The loo

One of the most frequent questions I’ve been asked is, “What are you doing about the toilet?” 

Remember, I am not homeless. I have had 14 churchyards to sleep in. Most have given me access to a toilet, though I have had some nights with no loo in sight. Toilets are a problem.

Walking from the car park to our centre at Sheffield Cathedral one morning, Patrick was stood gloved up, bag in one hand, shovel in the other and a bucket of soapy water on the ground. “Just dealing with a pile.”

“Oh, that’s unpleasant.”

“I know, fancy needing to go and there being nowhere!” His sympathy was with the leaver of the deposit. Mine was with him. 

I went into this fourteen days of homelessness knowing I have occasional problems with IBS (irritable bowel syndrome). There are moments when my body gives me little warning of the need to go. Sometimes it’s an immediate demand. At others I can manage about fifteen or so minutes of concentrated effort to get me to a loo. I’ve been lucky. IBS has only bothered me twice, both times within range of an accessible toilet….. accessible to me. But most rough sleepers don’t have the access I’ve had.

One of my rules for the last two weeks is that I wouldn’t go into places to eat or drink that I believe people who are homeless wouldn’t use. Needing the toilet made me really question that decision. If you are desperate, surely you take a risk. I remember being in a high street coffee shop chain and seeing someone who was a known street drinker come in and make his way to the toilet. He carried all the traits of someone who lives on the street and I looked around to see the response of those he passed. They all looked at him. And he stared defiantly back. He knew he was out of place. He looked uncomfortable, but he needed the loo. Since that time many shops and coffee shops have fitted code locks so that toilets are for customers only. City centre public toilets have closed.

When I was thinking about this blog I mentioned to a couple of people that I have a 57 year old bladder, generally in good condition but with a faulty stop/start function. A much younger woman responded, “I’ve got a ‘three baby bladder’ and that’s useless.” She had survived homelessness.

I realise toileting and health are individual issues but they impact each other too. Someone else mentioned being coeliac. It was only when they were diagnosed that they realised how unwell they had felt for years, with an impact on their bowels.

Over fourteen days I’ve shared much which I think is hidden about homelessness. We don’t wear badges telling our histories. Our health needs are invisible. Maybe this is the most important thing. It allows us to overlook important things and make unwarranted assumptions. It’s probably the worst part about being homeless. 

If you want to know more about changing the lives of people who are homeless visit www.archerproject.org.uk 

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Day 11

Image
Day 11: Lest we forget.. It’s 5.52am and I’ve had a fairly good sleep. Lying here in the beautiful doorway of St Mary's - Ecclesfield , a cloudy moon is alone in the sky. When I went to sleep the sky was full of stars. I don’t know their names.   If Gav was here he might tell me something about constellations. He died in 2020 after years of alcohol abuse. When I first knew him, sometimes passed out on the Cathedral grass, I couldn’t have guessed at the intelligence that filled his head. I wouldn’t have guessed the horrors either. The violent death he witnessed, the rejection by his stepdad, the journey into the care system which didn’t work for him, the loss of a daughter and so the story goes on. This doorway is poignant too. The last time I was here was for the funeral of K. Twenty years of military service, three stripes on his arm and enough trauma to sink a battleship. He used the Archer Project for just a few months. In that time we saw the two sides, a joy a...
Read more

Afterthoughts 2

Image
And what if I was really homeless? On Saturday I had my covid vaccine booster. On Sunday I had a headache. It wasn’t terrible but it was persistent and neither paracetamol nor ibuprofen took it away. I ended up dozing on and off in the comfort of my bed or a large armchair. I had dreamt about the armchair when I was on the street.  I had sat on pavements, on park benches, on upright chairs in popular burger chains or in churches. I missed somewhere comfortable to lounge. Towards the end of my fourteen-night sleep out my back ached and my neck was getting stiff. My legs ached too, from all the walking. That’s when I had thought of home and a large comfortable chair. This may seem like a really obvious thing to say, but the street lacks some basic creature comforts. I had a really lovely shower at City Taxis offices during my sleep out. I was very grateful. But it was a work shower. That means you get undressed in the little shower room, shower, dry yourself a...
Read more

Day One

Image
I’ve said goodbye to home for the next 14 days. My bed, the kettle, TV, radio, microwave, fridge and even my car have been left behind. Oh, I forgot the shower and toilet. I have got my toothbrush! This morning people at Sheffield Cathedral wished me well, prayed over me, told me to stay safe and to be careful. I have no intention of not being careful and I know this sleepout is to genuine rough sleeping what glamping is to trekking in the Himalayas. There is a world of difference.  I have chosen to sleepout and prepared for it. I walked away from home already equipped with a sleeping bag and tent. Having both is not unknown for rough-sleepers, but having them on your first night of sleeping rough is. By rights, I should have to do at least one night with nothing, unable to sleep and, at this time of year, probably walking around to stay warm when it comes to the really cold part of the night at about 3am.  There are so many differences between my sleepout and genu...
Read more