Monday 30th October 0217

Woke and up and out of the £300 second-hand recliner at 0130hrs.

Health Checks, medications were taken and off to the Porcelain Throne. Settled and got the book to read, but no time this morning. The evacuation was a lightning fast sanguinary discharge. The blood splatter was widespread and needed a lot of cleaning up. During which, a little Accifauxpa, as I bent down to clean the floor, the head came into contact with the corner of the cabinet, and the porcelain. Above the nose and on top of the dome. Haemorrhoid Harold was in full-flow, bless him.

I think I said “Oh, fancy that!” or something close. Hehe! 

Good job this happened before I got myself dressed.

The head aching a bit, and the innards now growling and rumbling, I felt a little poorly and off-colour, suddenly. Then Roger Reflux started sticking and causing me some bother too. Oh dear, something coming I’m not going to like, I can tell!

I got the computer on and got the average readings for the Health Checks calculated on Excel for last week. Apart from the weight, I think it looks alright.

I checked that I had altered all of the clocks belatedly last night, to make sure I’d done them correctly and missed any. Travel clocks in Wet Room, Kitchen and next to the computer (Keep it there to use as an alarm), and the big Pound Shop one on top of the electric fire that I cannot afford to use. Hehehe!

Checked that the Deep Vein Thrombosis (DVT) International Normalized Ratio (INR) Warfarin (Coumadin) Blood Test, (A mouthful innit, when you use the complete name), the appointment was for 100hrs today. Got the nibbles ready in the bag and made sure I had the Record Card in the coat pocket to take with me.

Agoraphobia overcomes me at times. (Not a fear of heights but, the abnormal fear of expecting or experiencing an awkward or embarrassing situation from which I cannot find an escape). The mess I’m in. With trying to get the INR level in range, get proof and take it to the dentist. Who will not do anything with the teeth, unless they have this evidence of the reading? And this has to be provided within 48hrs of the said INR test being taken. Then I have to get to the dentist and beg them to fit me in! Total failure on this for eight weeks nearly now and the toothache is not getting any better. The Doctor is not letting me know the results in time… Oh I’m fed-up!

Off for a wee-wee, and spotted some blood I’d missed that had splattered onto the shower curtain. How the haemoglobin travelled that far I’ve not got the slightest idea? Cleaned it up and antisepticised it. Checked the rear end for any further leakages, only the tiniest few spots were found. Good that! Cleansed everything and applied some fresh ‘H’ Cream.

My lack of confidence was becoming lacker! Hehehe!

Finished off yesterday’s sad diary and got it posted.

Did some WordPress reading and comment replies.

Went for a wee-wee. Made another mug of tea and checked up on Haemorrhoid Harold’s condition; All fine, no bleeding at all now, sore mind.

Went on CorelDraw. Did a political funny about MPs and Hell’s Gates, to use on a later diary and posted it to my Pinterest Political Funnies Gallery.

Went onto Facebook.

Ablutions tended to. A jolly good session had. Shaved meticulously with only two cuts. Back-brush and loofa utilised. Freshened up with Brute and citrus deodorant. (I fully anticipate being lunged after by the ladies desperate for my body when I get out [Surprisingly this did not happen? Hehe!])

Sorted-out and took the refuse sacks to the chute.

I got everything needed. Well, I thought I had. Out and down the lift, met a new tenant lady and thought how quietly spoken she was. Then realised I had gone out without putting in the hearing aids. Tsk! So back up in the lift and collected them, and down again. As I got out of the elevator, Deana was talking to the new lady. I told her I had some nibbles for her and Obergefreiteress Julie and would lave them in the fridge in the hut for them.

Hobbled out and down to the hut with Daisy. Who didn’t look too good to me? Made a few funnies to try and cheer her up. Into the shed and left the fish and nibbles for the Wardens.

A quick chat with Doreen and Thundergob as I went out of the end door.

Welsh Bill, Daisy and a few others were at the bus stop as I passed them. Quick laugh, and onwards I trudged.

Down Winchester Street Hill and through the sideroads to Mansfield Road.

Some Nottingham Street Art on the pavement. Looked almost new some of the gear?

Left up Mansfield Road towards Carrington and the surgery. Over the crest and down. Do you know, I didn’t see a single Nottingham Pavement Cyclist? Never been known before! Hehe!

Got to the surgery car park, and had to wait a while for a motorist going in and a car going out had to manoeuvre a bit. Still, no rush, the appointment was for 1000hrs I thought. When I got in and reported to the Oberleutnant Receptionist, and sat down, getting the crossword book out.

I got really disconcerted when the lady came to me and told me my appointment was for 1050hrs. (How I made that cock-up, I didn’t know). She informed me the clocks should have gone back at the weekend by an hour. Anyway, she was very nice about it, and I told her I’d wait. She said the nurse might see me earlier if she gets the time. I thanked her and got on with a mammoth session on the crosswords, and even did rather well at them for once.

Half-an-hour or so later, a beautiful thing happened, a wondrous thing! A voice from the nurse, close my left ear-hole spoke to call me in – It was Nurse Nichole. I could have cried with joy. At last, I got to see her.

There was something, quoted by Photographer and Wordsmith Tim Price that I intended to tell her, but the brain and excitement of seeing her blocked it out, and I could not remember. Huh and Tsk!

She soon had the blood taken and was patient with me telling her about the ‘Blanks’ I’d been having. Told whatever I do if this happens again, I must see the Doctor. I also told her of my not being given the INR results in time for me to get to the dentist to beg for an appointment. I gave the nibbles for her and the others and departed.

Leaving the car park, I had to wait for an old couple to get into their taxi, and held the door for the lady, closing it when she was safely in and buckled her up.

Hobbled down to the Insult Store… sorry, Lidl Store and had a walk around.

Got one of the two things I’d gone in for (I forgot the milk, Humph!), and twelve items I didn’t need. Found some Balsamic Sauce. Some Texan and Hickory Maple Syrup Cooking Sauce and other not needed fodder.

Caught a bus into Sherwood. As I got off, I saw the L9 bus across the road pulling away. I thought at the time, and guilty so; If I hadn’t stopped to help the old couple in the car park at the surgery, I could’ve caught that bus up to the flats instead of having to walk up! Naughty Inchcock!

I crossed over the road and up over and down the hill to the Woodthorpe Grange Park entrance. I’m so glad I did now.

Not many dogs were walking their owners this afternoon. But the lady with the two astonishingly friendly old whippets turned up as I was photographing the poor trees near the Pitch & Putt course. They seemed to recognise from the last time and appeared glad to see me as I was them. A bit of fuss for a minute or so, that made me feel good and happy. Funny innit?

Cheered me so much, I decided to have a walk down the gravel hill and through m beloved Tree Copse while there was still some greenery on the sparsely leaved trees.

The Pictorial Record of the Hobble Down Through the Copse.

I had to take care not to slip on the leaves or trip on the branches coming up through the ground, but did okay, coming out at the Meadow at the bottom, near the flats, and in amazingly high spirits too.

I’d seen and conversed with Nurse Nichole, actually been of use in helping others, hobbled without any Whoopsiedangleplops or Accifauxpas, met the glorious whippets and had a fuss with them, and taken a slow, careful stumble through perhaps, to me anyway, the most beautiful Copse in Nottingham. Life seemed good suddenly. But it was not to last, I’m afraid.

Up out of the Meadow I went, and back down to the apartments.

I dawned on me that I had not seen any birds of any type since entering the thicket. This I was a sure sign… no idea what sign.

Haha!

As I neared the building, I could sense (The EQ you know) that something was going to knock me back into depression again.

No workmen in the protective tent at the moment.

Got to the lifts (Elevators for my American friends), Number One was again out of action. The other one was on the twelfth floor as I pressed the call button. (Where it stayed for what seemed a lifetime to me) The need for a wee-wee growing ever more urgent as I waited for the cage.

And waited, and waited. Not sure how long it was before it started to come down, but I was on the verge of having to walk up the stairs, and the holding of the water was doing me and my innards no favours.

When it did arrive, Jenny and Frank were struggling out with a dirty great fridge freezer. They were taking it to the other block of flats. Bless the Jenny and Frank, always helping others. In my condition, I could not help them and felt incompetent at this. But the warm wet feeling was already showing itself from the lower regions, and the embarrassment was total!

I got to the wet room in the flat as soon as I physically could, feeling confident I had involuntarily passed some wee. I soo found out that I hadn’t, but had moved some blood. Yes, the damned fungal-lesion had opened again! Got things cleaned and the Betamethasone Corticosteroid Cream applied.

I’d spotted some American medication for people on Warfarin on the net earlier. Sounds just the ticket for me.

I must remember to ask Nurse Nichole or Doctor Vindla if anything similar is available on the NHS for me try out.

Things appeared okay after half an hour or so, but I shall be ever watchful.

The noise from the workmen, drilling and knocking was driving me mad, hours and hours it went on. Of course, it can’t be helped, the jobs have to be done.

Got the nosh cooking, then updated this diary.

Baked beans, Vegetarian and battered Chip-Shop Sausages and the horrid Anya Potatoes for din-dins. Lemon Dessert to follow. I left most of it. Not that it was any worse than my meals of late, it’s just that the appetite seemed to disappear as I ate?

The loose and painful incisor teeth suffered.

Put the pots in to soak in the bowl and had a wee-wee, then checked out Little Inchies lesion, no bleeding. Added a blob more of the cream.

A headache began, but I was confident it had been the earlier droning, drilling and knocking noises from the builder lads that had caused it. So I wasn’t worried. Dare not take any extra pain-killers with whatever drugs are in the various creams I’m using.

Talk about beautiful, after the fantastic walk in the Copse, now the evening sky cheered me up a bit as well.

I took a few more similar photographs of this scene and saved them to use later in the TFZer graphicalisations.

Today had definitely been one of the ups and downs, extremes. Highlights and lowlights.

Got the TV on and settled into the £300 second-hand recliner. Fell asleep and dreamt of being in a vast artist studio with ubiquitous clay models easels, paintings spread all around. I was not the artist, I sensed that much. Spike Milligan’s head was on the wall, he was whistling while I was being told off in no uncertain terms by two ladies wearing Victorian-like clothing? That’s all I found on my scribbled note about this dream.

Stayed awake to watch a bit of TV in between nod-offs, for a good while. Pointless of course.

The last thing I recall was Reflux Roger giving me some gip, and I took a swig of the medicine on the side Ottoman and spilt some down my dressing gown.

Been a funny day.