Inchcock – Friday 12th May 2017

Friday 12th May 2017

Haitian Creole: Vendredi 12 Me 2017

0325hrs: The previous four hours had been a terrible nightmare of Diarrhoea Daniel prompted pebble-dashing sessions on the Porcelain Throne. Very slowly, but thankfully these are receding now. How long for I don’t know. Getting far less frequent. Scared to have anything to eat now, though.

Did the Health Checks: Sys 148 – Dia 80 – Pulse 84 – Temp 36.2 – Weight 14.65

Took the morning medications with another ADR capsule, and made a mug of tea.

Updated yesterday’s diary and started this one off. Then off to Pebble-Dash the Porcelain Throne again. Far less urgency, mess and blood this time. On the wane, I think, even if only temporary until the next food intake, the relief is much appreciated.

0405hrs: Off to Pebble-Dash the Porcelain Throne again. Far less urgency, quantity, mayhem and blood this time. On the wane, I think, even if only temporary until the next food intake, the relief is much appreciated.

I banged the right foot on the corner of the cabinet, right on the tender wound scar! I nearly swore I can tell yer! Hehe!

Made another mug of tea, then I thought the view outside warranted an effort at getting a ‘Moody’ photographicalisation. Opened the window to hang out of to take this hopefully masterpiece. And I could hear the bird chicks demanding their breakfast. This was without any hearing aids in.

I don’t think it came out as particularly good, though.

Still, it did give me the opportunity to bang my head on the frame while closing the window. Tsk!

Did some WordPress reading.

What to eat with the least risk to the ‘Trots’ came to mind. I’ve got some Wonky potatoes in the cupboard. I thought I had some rice as Patti Beckert suggested, but can’t find it. Tsk! Will a bit of battered Cod fish and a few boiled potatoes be alright, without any tomatoes, beetroot or other embellishments?

Getting the potatoes in the saucepan on a low light, I came across this misshapen one. Put it in with the others.

Then went on Facebook.

Then started doing some Graphicalisationing. Starting with one of Herr Lynton Cox.

Using a Mad Professor picture from Pixabay.

This is the result.

Hope Lynton likes this.

No calls to the Porcelain Throne in over an hour now, nearly two actually.The rumbling is still there in the innards

The rumbling is still there in the innards mind you, but far less volatile.

Flipping Heck! I just sneezed and found myself in immediate need of visiting for a pebble-dashing session on the Porcelain Throne!

Ten-minute later, I returned to write this paragraph, with water in my eyes! Hehe!

Did another graphicalisation, this one of Martin Shuttlecock.

I made this one into Sepia mode to fit in with the time period that suited it. He’s delivering beetroots with a bottle of Guinness and his trusty dog.

Then I moved on to make a start on a TFZer attempt at humour… but had a diversion again to the Porcelain Throne!

Oh, dear…

So tired and weak feeling.

Sat down and tried to get some rest or even sleep.

Only a few more movements were needed to the Throne, no more than eight or so all night. But the bubbling brewing and rumbling from the innards did not stop at all.

Could not muster any enthusiasm for anything, even thinking went out the window. Hehe!

I could not face doing any ablutions.

Took the medications but didn’t have a meal of sorts, I did nibble all night though, biscuit, crisps, potatoes, iced lolly even a bar of chocolate? A good sign perhaps?

TV on, Dizzy Dennis paid a few visits, and there were many visitations for a wee-wee throughout the night. Hours of nodding off and waking.

Hey-ho!

Today, a day of discomfort, depression and angst popped along,

Devoid of fun, contentment, direction, hope or song,

Not much occurring so this diary cannot be very long,

Times like this, I must have confidence and be strong,

Not like a Hero, to win me a gong,

But accept Whoopsiedangleplops are due to my failings all lifelong,

Porcelain Throne visits are like pebble dashing, and boy does it pong!

It’s payback for the things I’ve failed at and done wrong,

The wind escaping and rumbling innards the whole nightlong,

All night I was worrying and fretting; Why am I not strong?

If I went to Australia, would I recognise a Currajong?

Will Arthur Itis, Duodenal Donald, Dizzy Dennis be on-song?

Will I ever meet an alien, bigfoot, Elvis or King Kong?

Anyway, how does one sound an umlaut or diphthong?

I’ll settle for a mug of tea, but not Souchong,

Then wash out my protection pants and thong!