Saturday 30th June 2018
Hungarian: 2018. június 30., Szombat
0400hrs: I woke up with a recherché steely unconcern-about-anything attitude. This didn’t last long, mind).
With such ease and lack of hassle, I can barely remember getting out of the £300 second-hand recliner.
I was even whistling to myself as I made my way to the kitchen to get the Health Checks done and the medications.
Dammit! I’d done it again and left the oven on overnight!
The already unfathomable semi-carefree attitude was soon evanescing. My stomach contracted and self-loathing returned with a vengeance. The contempt and antagonism stewed away. Irresistible thoughts of repentance and self-flagellation worryingly lurked.
Worryingly, my EQ was telling me things were going to get worse later.
The clear intentions of what I had to do this morning, faded. To be replaced with worry and disgust at my stupidity. This could have been a disaster that would have affected others living in this block of flats. And it is the second time I have done this in a week or so. Feh!
I did my best to hide my emotions and got on with the Health Checks.
The pulse up a fair bit. Probably, due to my getting upset at my leaving the oven on again?
The cramps returned, after being so scarce last night too.
There were no signs of any call yet to the Porcelain Throne.
A good few wee-wees needed, though.
A few car parking spaces down below on Chestnut Walk.
For the first time ever, I felt a little dizzy as I looked down to take the photo.
The night sky looked a little foreboding for some reason. I attempted to take a panoramic shot of it. It didn’t come out to bad this time.
Still feeling a bit down in the mouth. But, I made a brew and started to finalise yesterday’s diary. Got it all done and posted off. It took me a few hours, mind. Then I made a start on this blog.
I opened the emails. Oh, dear! The surgery has now given me another appointment, for Thursday at 1005hrs! Hence, I will miss another Social Hour, the second on the trot! I’ll show yesterdays communications again, with this mornings at the bottom:
Now the Self-loathing has been joined with frustration, and Duodenal Donald was starting to kick-off, giving me some nasty gip!
I feel so pathetically useless. No drive left. I’m resigned to doing anything the staff there say now. The bottle and gusto have gone. The staff do not listen to what I say; about Thursday’s being my one Social Hour a week. My falling asleep in the afternoons. They have moved the blood test day so often. Sometimes they fail to make an appointment for me, I go to the hospital, then I get told off, and I must not go to the hospital for my tests, but the surgery. Thursdays, apart from missing the social meeting, means… Oh, sod it!
I am now such a different person to the one who woke up this morning at 0400hrs, feeling almost carefree and whistling. Now (0615hrs) Full of angst uneasiness and inquietude, almost bitter! Feeling incapable and pathetic.
This being unable to get my message across, is doing my mental and physical health no good. All I would request is: Please do the tests as early in the day as possible, on a Tuesday or Wednesday to suit them. Not a lot to ask is it? But no, maybe it is?
What a flipping day. I just moved to extract my overly heavy and plump body from the chair, and Harold’s Haemorrhoids were so painful and started bleeding as soon as my bottom left the seat? What’s going on, am I going bonkers or what? It is like a different world I’m in. Suddenly everything that can seem to want to go wrong! Off to the wet room. I might as well get the ablutions and other medicationalisationing done while I’m in there. I’m losing heart here. Hehehe!
Bleeding both front and back now. The fungal lesion and the haemorrhoids. Neither too bad, though. Both responded to the medicating and stopped flowing by the time I came out of the wetroom. I didn’t use the shower with it being so early, not wanting to disturb my neighbours. I’m pleasantly surprised that I have not done any toe-stubbing or dropping anything yet. Fingers crossed. All done, I made a mug of tea and back on the computer.
I made a spur-of-the-moment funny graphicalisation and posted it off. Humour and sarcasm about the massive cuts in Nottingham Police numbers. I titled it “Aliens in Nottingham City Centre Scare! Haha!
Then made up a graphic of Thomas, one of our TFZer members.
Herbert above was clattering about a bit, but not up to his usual weekend cacophonic standards at all.
But of course, I am not complaining, just mentioning it. No point in me risking getting another telling off from the Nottingham City Homes for complaining about the noise. As the Management, told me;
He is doing nothing wrong, just following his hobby of model making. I don’t want to lose my home. Oh heck, I forgot there that I was told not to put any conversations with Nottingham City Homes Management, employees, representatives or agents on my blog. Sorry about that, I’ll cross it off.
Did another graphic for the TFZers. Making three in total.
Went onto Facebooking, and no problems today with it sticking! I may regret saying that later, I think. Hehehe!
The early meal was okay, but I wasn’t.
I reckon I ate about a third of it. I just couldn’t eat any more, despite it being tasty. Most irritating.
There were still no signs of any call yet to the Porcelain Throne.
Herbert was clanging away again, but as earlier, not up to his usual standard of a constant audial level.
France went through to the knock-out stages of the World Cup. I was already feeling a little queasy and unwell before this result. Positively poorly now! Hehehe!
The mind had a feast of a melee of machinations, fretting, worrying about almost every thought or concern that flitted into the brain.
Getting off to sleep was not an option. So I watched some banal TV and managed to get a few nod-offs of a few minutes each. Well gone midnight before I got off into the land of nod, properly. Tsk!