Friday 4th January 2019
Scots Gaelic: Dihaoine 4mh Faoilleach 2019
23:25hrs.
Approximately 00:05hrs.
I drifted into a feeling-sorry-for-Inchcock-mode. But not for long, I was stern as I chastised myself. Off I limped to the wet room for a Porcelain Throne session and had an SSPWW (Short-Sharp-Painful-Wee-wee) again as well. No bleeding from the rear, but Little Inchies Fungal lesion bled a good bit.
The ideas had grown for a humorous ode of my Thoughts, and it was the first thing I did before anything else, made up and posted the Ode off to WordPress. Taking two more PHBLWWs as I did so. But I think they are getting less in volume a bit now. The Ode link
I got the Health Checks done next.
No problems passing-wise, other than everything was accompanied by the escaping wind. I thought it was crude, but comical at the time. Apparently, the cunning Furesomide sensed the porcelain and kept me waiting sat there so long, I read a bit of the book, as I waited for the PHBLWW (Persistent, Hosepipe-Blasting like Wee-wee) to end. I feel like I could plotz!
Back to the kitchen to make another brew. Funny that is, I have a thirst like never before, just when I do not need one. Or do I? Is it part of the Furosemide make-up, so I can clear out any impurities with the fluids? You may think I am getting all disoriented, confused and mixed-up about the problem? You’d be right, too! Tsk!
Oh, how I’d love to get out for long hobble, chinwags, natterings, seeing other tellurians and feeling alive! I’m an outpatient stuck indoors, with no nurses. Just thought I’d mention it, feeling sorry for myself again. Stop-it!
Two more PHBLWWs later, I got on with updating the Thursday blog, at last. Took me longer than usual, as Dizzy Dennis was making a few appearances. During which, the Wee-wees turned into SPWWs (Sharp-Painful-Wee-wees), not so long in duration now, but still powerful jets and splashbacks.
I’d been forgetting to check the fluids in the grey bin for foreign matter. What a schmuck! I’ll scrutinise the next one.
I made a beginning of starting this post next. Between SPWWs and the never-ending drive to shove tea and water down my gullet.
Decided to get some brekkie. Into the kitchen to put a lamb burger in the oven, to have with the last of the Asda Walmart sourdough bread. If I can get my teeth through the crust, that is. When another call to the plastic bin for a wee-wee arrived, and there was no waiting, if I had not had the bowl nearby to use, the PPs would have been tested beyond their limits! A lengthy session this one was, but not so painful I think. I examined things afterwards, no signs of unwanted intruders. Phew!
I’m afraid things went to pot while I was eating the bread. The stomach churned, off to the Porcelain Throne, Little Inchies lesion was bleeding badly, stomach-cramp like pains as soon as I had evacuated. Not feeling so well now.
I threw the brekkie away and just sat down staring, as the light began to rise. I used the grey bin was utilised several times over the next hour or so of nothingness. So much so, that I had to get up to empty and clean it to use again… and again, and again…
I had a bad turn (I assume)… not really sure what took place, but I seemed to come back to reality hours later, while I was taking a wee-wee in the wet room? Without the foggiest idea of what I’d been up to. Oh dear!
I did some chips (Fries) and the just-out-of-date sausages, no trimmings or extras or dessert, for I still felt so tired and a little out-of-it.
Perhaps I had fallen asleep earlier?
Concentration has not been my good point today.
Tray still on my overblown belly, I fell into a deep sleep as soon as I finished the nosh. I woke hours later with the tray in the same position. Then, uninterested in activating the brain, I nodded off again… Huh!
Splish splash he was taking a wee, long about every night, morning, afternoon, evening… floating between hydrophilic and hydrophobic. Do you know the song “Splish splash I was taking a bath”? At least your temperature is normal. 36º C (96.8º F) is about where I run. Both meals look decent.
Ah, the wee-wees this morning are not so hose-pipe-like, but longer in duration and more frequent. Tsk!
The BP has really dipped, too.
I do recall the Splish Splash song. Bobby Darin I think.
Thank heavens for the temperature, got one right anyway. Hehe!
Not up to doing any proper meals, can’t get out for fresh stuff anyway yet.
Cheers. Yours, grumpy, fed-up, wee-weeing, boil-bursting, depressed, chinwagless, geriatric Gerry.
Ah-well!
Any neighborly types in the flats you could invite over for a chinwag? Seems you all are stacked pretty close to each other in those towers.
A thought, Tim.
But not knowing for sure what my new ailments are, I wouldn’t like to pass on anything to anyone.
Don’t get many visitors at the best of times, but I hope no one calls now; if you see what I mean.
TTFN.