I do not want to go. I said to the district nurse. I have recently had a foot infection and suffering a bit of necrosis in one of my toes. They have been coming and changing my dressing, rubbing liquids that hurt and handling my foot like an unruly child. It hurts but they don’t understand. I don’t speak English well. I can only moan in pain and they say it’s fine. It is not fine. Then they wrap it up in a bandage so tight that I feel like foot is on fire and ready to burst. They want me to go to the nurse myself as I can hobble. But it hurts. Walking on my feet is like dragging a rake across the grass. It hurts. I do not want to go. My son translates and he says they will not come to us. I will not go to them. It’s a waste of money ordering a taxi and it hurts.

The district nurse came today and told my mum she needs her dressing changed twice a week. It’s important to keep the foot clean to prevent further infection. But she refuses. The nurse says that if she can walk, she is expected to go to appointments to have the dressing changed. I understand this but my mum is adamant. I say to her that she needs to get it changed, otherwise there’s risk of infection. Given that I’ve seen her walk in her bandages and that she takes it off at night. This makes me angry. These actions can make it worse if she were to get another infection. There’s no way around this. It’s either go or not and by not doing it, she isn’t going to get better. I thank the nurse as she leaves and I am boiling with frustration. My mum and I have a heated confrontation and I cry. “Who cares about the money, do you want your feet or !?”