Wednesday 13th June 2018

Catalan: Dimecres 13 de Juny de 2018

0300hrs: After failing to get to sleep with all the hassle last night, I did, in the end, get off into the land of Nod, but woke with a start, in imperative need of the utilisationing of the Porcelain Throne. Hehe!

The Fungal Lesion had been bleeding a good bit. But, the evacuation was a lot better and less messy this morning.

While doing my duty, analytic self-reasoning with cognitively biased thoughts rumbled through the grey-cells as I sat uncomfortably and nervously on the loose plastic toilet seat, for the exodus. These reflections and considerations brought no conclusive results. But, they rarely do! 

Washed-up and into the kitchen to do the Health Checks.

Cor-blimus! I’ve been hoping that the Sys does not go any lower, and hey-presto, it shoots right up this morning? Wonder if last night’s hassle with the phones and lack of sleep again, affected this?

Got the Tuesday Diary finalised and posted off to WordPress.

Took me until 0800hrs to get this achieved.

Ablutions tended to and enjoyed. Medicationalisticalisationing completed. As I turned off the computer, some more Windows Updates came in. What these will do to or change in my machine this time, is vexing.

One rubbish bag was taken to the chute on the way out. Down the elevator and out into the welcoming sunshine and fresh breeze, and started a gentle stroll along Chestnut Walk, nearly got hit by a car coming from behind, and realised I had no got my hearing aids in. Klutz!

I returned to the flat and put the hearing aids in. Huh!

Back out again.

I hundred yards or so beyond the Nottingham City Homes, soon to named, Winwood Heights Flats, Unterscharführeress Catwalk Modelling Wardens Temporary HQ, Willmott-Dixon workers breakfast and tea-break room, Sarcasm & Insult distribution area, Tenants Socialisation Shed, Telling Inchcock off Zone, Things like crockery and pottery to be stolen from, and residents room; I turned and snapped this photographicalisation. I photo’s it to show the incredible growth of the Chestnut Trees. From this angle, they now obliterated the view of all three buildings.

Making my way down the Winchester Street hill, I had a Dizzy Dennis attack near the garages as I neared the bus stop shelter.

No bother, this time, it had evaporated within a minute or so. Not that it didn’t concern me at first, all okay now.

I hobbled steadily down to Mansfield Road. Where the closed businesses on either side of the roadway, was a disheartening sight.

As I plodded on up the hill towards Carrington, two unmarked silver ARVs shot towards by with blues and twos on. Two minutes later another ARV sped by. Two minutes later as I was going down the hill towards the surgery, two marked cars did the same. Next, a single marked police vehicle went by.

I stopped to take these shots of some bees in the flowers.

One bee looked like he was wearing a splint on his left back leg. Hehe!

Then yet another marked police car shot towards the town. Lights and siren on, he cleverly weaved his way through the now dense traffic in Carrington.

Annoying, not knowing why, innit?

Getting through the parked vans on the pavement was a bit of a struggle for me.

But how anyone with a wheelchair, site-impaired or elderly with sticks or zimmer frame would have gone on?

Yet, I still felt sorry for the delivery drivers with their mission impossible tasks to get done.

I got to the Sherrington Park Medical Practice, with plenty of time to spare, and my general mood had brightened a bit by then.

Yet a different receptionist was on duty, again? I signed in with her and sat down, got the crossword book out and waited to be summoned.

No Nurse Nichole on duty, my spirits dipped down again.

When I got into Nurse Ann’s treatment room, I hastened to roll up my sleep and sat down ready for the blood to be taken. Bless her, the nurse did ask what was the matter with me, not gossiping, and can she do anything to help. I replied, no, thank you though.

I was soon tended to and then departed. I did not leave any nibbles as I usually would have done. I was peeved at getting yet another late appointment for the blood test, and in my current state of pathetic self-pity and wretched mood at all the failures and lack of help, I was unconcerned about this. I said my farewells as I left, but got no response.

Once outside in the clement weather, I limped into Carrington towards the Chemist shop. The chemist, who I called visited to make sure when to collect my monthly prescriptions and was told to call on Friday. Which I did, and was told to call back on Monday, which I did, and collected the medications, got home to find the two bottles of medicine were missing. So I called back on Tuesday to tell them, and they had none in stock, I was to call back on that Friday. Which I didn’t. I left it until today when I had to go out for the blood test anyway. So I’ve had about five days without the medications, and no one is interested.

The distress from Duodenal Donald and the Plates-of-meat, both currently giving me anguish and pain, along with the resentment at not being listened to about the noises I am living with, have created a new meaner me, today! And I don’t like him!

I got the bottles, thanked the lady and left, going to the Lidl store. Where I cheered up a little again. This is probably due to my emacity, or more precisely, my shopping addiction being satiated. I ended up on the self-serve tills, still, without any Whoopsies or errors made, and having spent over £20! But this did include £3-95 for a razor with 20 double bladed heads, little birthday pressies for some of the gals, radishes, tomatoes, raffle prizes. Some nibble box goodies and even a bar of dark chocolate and pack of ice-cream cones for myself. So, fair enough. Self-pity equates to self-indulgence! That was good, did I really say that? It could be used in an advertising campaign. Hehe!

Out of the store and to the bus stop. As you can see in this photograph, when I arrived at the bus shelter, I was the only person there. Moments later I was joined by five other prospective Nottinghamian passengers.

When the bus arrived, they all forced their way, well, four of them anyway, onto the bus ahead of yours-truly, leaving me getting on and no regular seats available.

I had to sit on one of the shallow pop-down side-saddle seats. This encouraged Arthur Itis to join in with Duodenal Donald and the Plates-of-meat in giving me some more hurt. Did I say this was an up and down sort of day emotionally for me? Oy vey!

I got off of the bus in Sherwood. With the two large bottles from the chemist and the purchases in the bag, walking was even more painful now. Poor thing, Haha!

I had a while to wait until the L9 bus was due, so I took a slow amble in the Sue Ryder shop, window shopping and nosing around. When I realised, I had someone following me and watching my every move, but he amateurishly looked away each time I glanced at him. A plain clothed store detective perhaps, or a possible mugger? Either way, I left the place sharpish… well, preferably at a steady hobble-pace. Hehe!

Poddled to the bus shelter. Roy and one or two other tenants joined the queue. When it arrived, I was the last to get on again, and stood up, near to Doris (I think that’s her name. A lovely lady that I have taken to!)

Back at the flats we get off the bus, greeted those getting on, and Roy went int[ the shed to use the W.C. Doris and I, with another chap tenant, made our way to the flats, having a good natter en route.

Got into the flat and had a wee-wee. Put the fodder away, and shelled some pod peas and got the min the saucepan on a low light.

I received another ‘Odd’ call that I could not understand the voice. I told them this, and they rang off. But they rang back again, I reckon I heard Chunky Chicken said? I rang off.

Got the computer on and it was a right mess, dead slow as well after the Windows update. I thought I’d try turning it off then back on. Then as I opted for close down, the message asked if I wanted to upload update then shut down… I’m fed-up with this, it was already past my head-down time

Rebooted and it was worse than ever. Slow, juddery and my Grammarly was not working, WordPress continues to swap everything to American -English and have to repeatedly go into setting to reset it… life ain’t good at the moment.

Sister Jane rang, I had not emailed her the diary. We had a chat, and I suddenly remembered the peas in the pan! I rang off quickly, explaining why to Jane. It was alright though, Phew! Then I sent the diary off to her, belatedly. Schlemiel!

Really feeling irritable now, with all the failures and things going wrong.

I updated this diary again, but it was slow. So I tried turning off and on again, which of course meant altering the setting again.

I got the chips in the oven, podded the peas and got them cooking.

Opened the can of the pork knuckle, and cut up on the plate ready. Sliced the gherkins and tomatoes prepared for when the chips were cooked.

Delightful nosh. A 9.1/10 rating given.

Around 1900hrs, the telephone rang, and fully expecting it to be one of the recent Asian voiced con-men telling me they were from some imaginary Computer centre. 

I angrily fought my way out of the recliner and answered the phone with a rather sharp “Yes?” It was the doctor from the DVT (Deep Vein Thrombosis) Clinic, who assess the INR blood level and Warfarin dosages, each week.

This is the first time in years that they have contacted me from the Hospital and shown any concern. The Doctor said she has decided to leave the dosage the same as last week, but was concerned about the INR content going down so rapidly, to 2.2 from 4.1 in a week. She thought I may have missed more than one night’s Warfarin as I put on the card. This could easily be possible with my memory. The equanimous lady questioned me about the new bruising, where they were, how long they lasted, did they itch and the colour of them, etc. This encouraged me to cheer up, someone showing care.

After I gave her my answers, she added: You must see your Doctor if you have any worries or concerns about the bruising or any excess bleeding or change in colour of any lost blood. I’m afraid I gave out a spur-of-the-moment ‘Phwert’ when she said see your Doctor. It was almost as if she knew about the advice I get given at my doctors; like “Keep an eye on it”, “What else can you expect”, “Others with far fewer ailments than you suffer the same symptoms…” etc.. She calmly said in a rather soothing voice: “Yes, I know!” I felt so appeased and grateful that someone really does understand.

I thanked her and wrote down the details.

I removed covering from the arm from the blood test earlier.

Nurse Ann had covered the little mole with the exterior plaster. It is now hanging by a tiny thin thread of flesh, ready to get pulled off and cause much-unneeded bleeding. Humph!

I went into the kitchen to get a drink of fresh orange juice, but it had all been used up. Good job, if it does arrive, the Morrison order has some on it for delivery tomorrow.

Got back down in the chair and with the minds racing away again, fretting, worrying etc., I was delighted when I found I went to sleep so soon, within minutes.