Wednesday 13th March 2019

Irish: Dé Céadaoin 13 Márta 2019

23:25hrs. Woke, and I could hear the howling winds, without the hearing aids in! Extracting my bulbous, broad in the beam, blimp-like, flabby, stomach-distended body from the second-hand, ci1968, rickety, rusty recliner, was surprisingly easy this morning. I rose and made my way to make use of the Porcelain Throne. The evacuation was back to the Messy-Mode. Lots of cleaning up to do afterward. 

To the kitchen to make a brew and do the Health Checks.

I was going to open the unwanted light & view blocking window, to take a picture of the rain that was accompanying the gale force winds blasting head-on into the building. But when I went up the stepladder to open them, the wind was so strong it blew the window in and rapped me on my left knuckle as I closed it again. Humph, good start to the day that! Did the Health Checks.

For some unknown reason to me, the Sys had shot up again, and the pulse remains like it has been for the past three days, high? Made the mug of tea, and took the medications. Then, had another call to the Porcelain Throne. (Mmm?)

This visitation to the Throne proved to be one of the worst ever for me. Harold’s Haemorrhoids were bleeding away. Little Inchies Fungal Lesion was flowing blood all over the place. Crickey, this is not good! After getting things cleaned up, and partially stopping the lesion bleeding.

Maybe the lesion was stretched as I climbed the stepladder?

I went to wash my hands, and the left hand had a Colin Cramp attack and distorted. The agony was almost insufferable, but it only lasted for a minute at most, then the fingers realigned.  Luckily I had taken the camera in with me to make an updated picture of the pins (legs), so I managed to get this shot of Colin-Cramps efforts. Hehe! Changed into some new PP’s. But felt unconfident that I had stopped the lesion bleeding, I’ll have a check again later on. Dread-Mode-Engaged! 

I took a photograph of the legs back in the kitchen. It might sound odd, even for me, but the first time I looked at this photograph when I downloaded it later, I thought for a moment that the EIBWBBBs (Evil Ironclad Boll-Weevil black biting beetles) had left some eggs in my legs and they were coming out of hibernation under the skin! There were that many new tiny blotches appeared that looked the same shape as the weevils do. Haha! A bit of reddening here and there gave the pins a bit of colour for a change.

Had to make another brew of tea, to the computer. Updated yesterday’s Diary, and eventually got it finished and posted off. 

Despite the baddish start to the day, apart from the Fungal Lesion still bleeding, I was feeling rather chirpy about things. There’s no accounting for or reason for this, as far as I can see? 

I did a little TFZer Facebooking, then went on the WordPress Reader. Checked the Emails. One from the Sherringham Park Medical Practice had arrived, with the INR blood test results, and an appointment. ‘Good afternoon Mr Chambers your INR results are as follows; INR is 5.2. Next test is due on the 18.3.2019 I have booked you an appointment for 9.30 am.’ This result, may go some way to explaining the Fungal Lesion bleeding so profusely? The level is higher than the target level. Thus, the blood will be much thinner of course.

I made a start on this post. Hearing the moaning winds, I thought I’d get a photo from the new unwanted balcony. When I got out onto the shell, the gaps in between the windows ensured that it was windy, wet and uncomfortable in there. I realised that reflections could not be avoided, but did my bestest to take a shot of the rain-soaked scenery.

As I was closing the sliding door shut, I caught my left arm, right on the bruising I’d collected when tumbling off of the stepladder yesterday, against the handle. Klutz!

I went to the kitchen to get some Germolene to put on it. I had not noticed earlier, how the bruise was coming out at last. I also spotted how the hands were so pale?

It started stinging and hurts when I lift the arm or stretch with it now. Humph! Yet still, I wasn’t feeling sorry for myself, or annoyed. I just felt (EQ maybe?) that things were going to get better later on? It’s incomprehensible the way I was keeping my pecker up. It’s not that I never have any good luck, I probably do have real good fortune, quadrennially. Hehe!

As I went back to updating this blog, yet another call to the Porcelain Throne arrived! Fingers crossed that the fungal lesion bleeding had stopped or at least slowed down, I made my to the wet room.

Cor blimus! Another extremely messy evacuation. On the plus side, the fungal lesion was only bleeding a little bit now. The other side was Harold Haemorrhoids that were ensanguining rather severely; however, they responded to the medications. Had a good clean up of the room and myself, made fresh brew and back on the computer. 

Thoughts turned to things of a jentacular nature. I had run out of cornflakes, so decided on a pot of porridge, and some Highland Shorties.

Back to the computer, Facebook was coming up with Error messages. Always something goes wrong when a Windows Update comes in like I had earlier! Thank you, Mr Gates. Then… Thank you, Mr Fries!

So, I got some turnips, mushrooms and onions prepared and into the slow-cooker, with some Basil flavouring.

Back to the computer, it was going again now, but rather jittery. The Ocado order arrived. The fancy tomatoes, planned to go on my vegetable and tomato sarnies for dinner, looked different and attractive. The Sicilian green and some Spanish Blacks.

I started to make up the funny ode post. Took me a few hours to complete, but I think it is humorous enough to be blogged.

Got the ablutions and medicationalisationalistical duties as needed.

Took the black bags to the waste chute, and made up a white bag of recyclables to take down with me on the way out to Nottingham City Homes, Winwood Flats, Oberstgruppenführer Wardens Temporary HQ, Toilet, Sarcasm & Insult distribution area, Rumourmongering Clinic. Tenants Socialisation Shed. Telling Inchcock off Zone. Things like china and pottery to be stolen from, and residents room hut.

The highly decorated and attractive looking foyer had suffered from things being blown in with the very extreme winds every time the doors are opened. The gale continued.

It was hard walking in the strong, but not cold winds along Chestnut Way to the shed. I wondered if some of the more frail tenants would be able to get out at all. Which of course, brought the thoughts of the L9 buses being cut to every two hours from 09:30, which will mean only five or six buses a day in the week, as they do not run in the rush hour. Spirit Levels Dropped to 30%!

Riechsführeress Warden/Camp-Guard and Ex-Tiller-Girl Julie was in. Had a natter and some nibbles I’d ordered in error were accepted. Brenda (I may have got the name wrong, not good with them you know. Tsk!) and we had a laugh, moan and nattering session.

Despite the almost hurricane winds, I stopped a few times en route back to my beloved Woodthorpe Court to take some photographicalisations.

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Back in the flat, I did the Health Checks, had a wee-wee (a rare thing today, Hehe!), and went to update the diary…

Again! I turned everything off, rebooted box and computer, to no avail! Thank you, Mr Fries.

Then, I got the sarnies made, a different variation today. The mushrooms, onions and turnips went well with the tomato sandwiches.

Despite my being on a low, thanks to Mr Gates and Fries incompetencies, uncaring nature and their obviously obsessive quomodocunquizing, acquisitiveness, and the voraciousness of their libidinousness for self-profit, gain and aggrandisement. Thank the Lord that neither of these blasé, callous, impervious to humanity, money-grabbing-gannets didn’t become politicians! Jealous? Me? Hehe!

Tried the computer once more, it started fine. Tsk! Too tired to do anything now.

Last Health Checks were done.

Got into the £300 second-hand recliner, with two moulds of filled with fluid again legs, and thoughts permeated from the brain: Somehow, I have to get out for a sample pot, buy a pair of too large for me shoes, for the Mary Potter leg-ulcer clinic visit, and get the kitchen done. Oh, dear!

ZZZ!