Friday 14th June 2019
Azerbaijani: Cümə günü 14 İyun 2019
00:35hrs. I woke, full of the joys of spring, happy, gay, bright, and ready for anything the world would throw at me… No, I mustn’t lie! I woke in a right-grumpy mood with life and its pain, eccentricities, dishonesty, fraudulence, unethicalness, inequity, unjustness, bigotry, crime, iniquity, dishonorableness, discrimination, inequality, prejudice, unlawfulness, unreasonableness, villainy, crookedness, deceitfulness, bullying, underhandedness, callousness and its greedy, voracious, intemperate, self-indulgent, grasping, venal, cupidinous, materialistic, predatory, money-grabbing, pleonectic ways! Our, so-called leaders, (dubious, dishonest, dauntless and deleterious), utterly driven and ridden with their money-grabbing, ingurgitate, and usufruct desires for self-gain and personal wealth and notoriety!
Luckily, my mood was soon changed as the urgent need for a wee-wee arrived. Off to the wet room. Which, unfortunately, took a little longer than I would have been comfortable with. The freeing of my becoming gargantuan-again torso from the £300, c1968, second-hand, grotty-beige coloured rickety recliner chair, was hampered by several things this morning. Arthur Itis was revisiting both of the knees, the axonotmesis and the peripheral neuropathy had got the right-hand fingers, arm and shoulder doing their involuntary hokey-cokey dance routine (but only for a minute or two, then things settled down), and I stubbed the already well-stubbed toe against the Ottoman! I may have uttered a few words of discontent under my breath, like, “Oh blow it!” or “Fancy that!”
By the time I had got to the wet room, I also needed the Porcelain Throne. And what a messy evacuation I had to cope with. I had to spend what seemed an endless time, cleaning things and myself up afterwards! During which, the brain decided that either the Senna tablets had suddenly started working after weeks of failure – or, most likely, the copious amount of fresh pod peas I had eaten with last nights Cheesy potatoes, flavour rated 9.55/10 meal, had got things moving again? My money is on the amazingly tasty pod peas. Hehe!
I returned to the utility (front) room. (The computer office, bedroom, Emergency Wee-wee grey bucket storage area, Camera-charging unit, Having a Stroke in, sock-glide usage area, dining room, Vacuum cleaner storage and maintenance garage, Dropped and lost items never seen again storage area, and already stubbed, toe stubbable area facilitated surgery. Hahaha!) Had a look on the TFZer Facebook, but not for long.
A clattering noise from somewhere close by was heard? It must have been load, cause I heard it without my hearing aids in. Not that there is any point in putting them in, mind. I am still waiting to go to the clinic to have new ear-inserts measured. That will be in two weeks, I think the appointment is. Then a five or six weeks wait for them to be made, then a long wait I suppose again for another meeting to have them fitted?
Back to the diary; A decent look around revealed nothing by way of an explanation for the noise?
So while in the kitchen, I got the Anya potatoes in the crock-pot. I’m planning on having them cold later, so cooking them early will do no harm, I hope, at least.
I took a picture through the unwanted, thick-framed, multi-glass windows to clean that cannot be reached, that prevent me from taking photographs of out and down, due to the ledge being too high. However, if I am in a suicidal mood, the step-ladders can be mounted and then I can hang outside to see if any fire engines are on site when a fire alarm activates, that I cannot hear anyway, goes off. It needed saying!
If I should snuff-it in 1a fire here, or fall out of the window, please ask for any compensation I might be due, for breach of care, goes to the RSPCA, thank you. Oh, and you’d better warn anyone who thinks about using my spare parts for others, about the Metal Mickey ticker. The bullet pellets still in the arm, Arthur Itis, Anne Gyna, Reflux Roger, Prostate Pete, Shaking Shaun, Dizzy Dennis, Hernia Harry, Axonotmesis Alan, Peripheral Neuropathy Nigel, Sid the Stroke, Craigs Cramps, Leslie’s leg ulcer, Wally’s Water Retention, Duodenal Donald’s ulcer, Dave’s almost Deaf Earholes, Haemorrhoid Harold, Cathy’s Cataracts…
Nae! Please, just tell them not to bother! Hahaha!
At last, I made a start on the updating of the Thursday post. The dancing fingers had eased off, so I got it done a little quicker than expected, which was encouraging for once. Posted it off.
Got the morning medications were taken, and the health checks were done. The results were not as good as they have been of late, but not too bad at all, I reckon Sys 166, Dia 66, Pulse 92, and Temperature 36°c.
A mug of tea then checked on the potatoes and got on with starting this blog off.
I went on the WordPress Reader section next.
Then onto TFZer Facebooking.
I checked on the Anya potatoes in the crock-pot again. They are still hard, after over four hours on a high setting! I don’t want to quodlibetificate, but surely this can’t be right?
My aboulomania is rife and ripe this morning. With the Physio nurse coming to give me a workout this morning, I am concerned about getting out to the shops for some large potatoes for Josie’s meal-treat tomorrow. If she comes late, I will be in a pickle. I wish I could manage not to worry about this, its not the end of the world. Yet quisquousness and fretting, I do. Poor old thing!
I put the computer to sleep and went off to get the ablutions sorted out. I realised as I was washing the used cup up, I had not done the hand-washing yet, so set about getting the t-shirt and socks in the bowl and cleaned and left them soaking while I got the teggies, shave and shower tended to. I took my time and used the shower-seat today. It felt so unnatural. Got dressed and had another search for the mysteriously disappeared sample return envelope – it must have gotten thrown away by mistake?
All refreshed, I got the hand-washing rinsed well, wrung-out as best I could, and hung up the shirt on a hanger to drip dry. I put the socks on the flat airer.
I was doing well this Friday, no Whoopsies had stopped coming, and I was feeling better in myself overall.
The phone rang, and it was a lady from the Doctors surgery. Apparently, I had not answered her last Email. So, well told off, she told me to send an email telling them I had received the dosages, which she then gave me verbally. But I was a little confused by them, they were as I wrote them down as she spoke: Today 0 – Mon 1 – Tue 1½ – Wed 1½ – Thur 1½ – Fri 1 – Sat 1½ – Sunday 1½?
I managed with and with complete ease, showing my ineptitude and stupidity, to scold a finger on the right-hand (It had to be that hand with the Peripheral neuralgia of course!) while making a mug of tea.
The pleasant Stroke Physio lady arrived and was kind to me, and we had a little chinwag. A limited range of exercises, and off, she trotted to her next patient. It was 10:26hrs, so obviously I was going to miss the 10:30hrs bus down the hill. So I decided to take some photographs from the balcony, then set off on foot to the Chemists to find out when the prescriptions were due for delivery.
I got in a bit of a state rushing around getting ready. Eventually, I departed, with the shoulder bag and the three-wheeled trolley, in case the medications were ready to collect, but I don’t think they will be. It’s just the beta-blockers that I am short of. Confusion-Mode-Continuing!
I took some black bags to the rubbish chute on the way out.
I was soon trying to avoid the rain puddles along Chestnut Way.
To the end of the way and right down Winchester Street. A bit of a struggle, as usual, to get by the pavement parked vehicles, thus situated to make room for the L9 bus to get through.
I had to go around in the end, onto the road, the danged trolley nearly tipped over. Still, after two-years of contractors vehicles parked on the pavement, and the prospect of it continuing until the end of next November, I’ve got used to it, now.
No altercations on the way down and onto Mansfield Road, and left towards Carrington.
At least the rain had stopped, and it wasn’t cold at all.
A little further on, a Pavement Cyclist shot out of an entrance on the left, and all but had me over!
I crossed over the road to be on the Chemists side and continued up the hill.
I noticed at the bus stop as I hobbled by, the Subway franchise was advertising Vegan Your Way on the boarding. It had a disclaimer showing in tiny letters at the bottom of the advert; ‘Subway Your Way products may have come into contact with none-vegan and meat products during the preparation.’ Gawd, they have to cover themselves nowadays to avoid being prosecuted, I suppose?
A Nottinghamian Pavement Cyclist was going up the hill. I’m not sure that this ignorant, bullying, uncaring, anti-social excuse for a human being was not the same one that hit me last February as I limped along the same bit of road coming home from the surgery?
But he had decent legs, Hehehe!
Over the crest and down into Carrington.
At the smelly rubbish-bin point, I saw the Nottingham City Council had placed a large tub of flowers.
A good job we have Labour in charge, or I wouldn’t have a home, and flowers like this beauty to admire. No idea what it is, but it had braved the cigarette nubs, empty beer cans, and bottles that had been thrown in the bin! With the rubbish cage and bins right next to it, I could not understand why people had used the flower bed and not the supplied boxes to rid themselves of their waste?
Then realised, of course, that earth’s tellurians are to blame.
Mankind is doomed!
The next few hundred yards, there was so many Pavement Cyclist that I could not picture anywhere near all of them.
The bottom one was coasting downhill at such a rate of knots, he came from behind. I didn’t expect him to come, so suddenly and close to me as he shot by.
The force of the wind he created was so strong, I called something nasty to him, that questioned his parentage! But he could not hear me. Probably just as well, or he might have got off and knocked-hell out of me. Hehe!
I got to the Carrington Pharmacy. Where I was told that I had a two-months supply of prescriptions collected by a nurse, and there was definitely a sufficient supply of Bisoprolol. The next is to arrive in July. Again, no date was given, it never it by them! This caused me some concern, and I mentioned that I have only five tablets left? He told me to ask my Doctor if I needed extra. I’m afraid that seeing my Doctor usually takes two to three weeks. He gave me some Furesomide tablets from 30th May? The different nurses have been dealing with the prescriptions and medicines for me, and to be honest, I’m just confused altogether now. I explained how things were with me now, and struggle for logicality and frustration abounds. At least I think I said it, but there was no reaction, it was as if I hadn’t spoken at all. Did I imagine talking? I was downhearted and told him: “Not to worry, I’ll do without!” Boy, I was pissed off! I walked out.
After going twelve weeks without the toenails being cut, due to being hospitalised, it took me three more weeks to get the doctor to arrange a referral for a paediatrician to examine the feet and to cut the toenails. Two weeks later, I got the appointment at the Sherwood Health Centre, for a meeting in another two week’s time! “Depressed, Pissed-Off and Had Enough Mode Adopted!”
I foolishy called in the Lidl store. Shopping is a kind of therapy to me, a costly one! I got to the self-serve checkouts with, Rocky bars, Caramel bars for the Social Hour Nibbles that I can no longer attend? Frozen potato cubes, and some baking potatoes and Tuna lumps in water, for Josie’s Saturday nosh.
As I came out from the store, feeling a mixture of frustration at the medications having gone wrong, and needing to be sorted, and pure hatred when I saw two Nottinghamian scumbag Pavement Cyclists weave their bullying way through some people, and go by the bus stop. Swine!
At least the timing was not too bad this time. I had about forty minutes to get to Sherwood to connect with the L9 bus back home up the hill.
I joined the lugubrious looking passengers waiting for a bus in the shelter. They were all uncommunicative when I offered a smile and said ‘Good Morning’ to them. Oh dear!
The bus was in Sherwood within a few minutes, and I got off at the Post Office shop.
I crossed the road and had plenty of time to call in the Oxfam, and then the Mind charity shops for a poke around.
It said a lot for humankind, my finding both shops cram-packed with potential customers. I didn’t buy anything from either shop. But I enjoyed watching the obviously, ‘after-money-making’ merchants. One man and woman had books and catalogues with them, one from John Pye Auction House. I could almost see mucous secretion dribbling out of the woman’s lips as she looked carefully and excitedly at an old tea set in a cabinet – followed by Hubby consulting one of his books, and the utter dejection on both of their faces that followed… I assumed he had found out the tea service was not worth much, after all! Hahaha! I almost felt sorry for them, until I remembered they were just two more of the ever-growing number of Line one’s pockets, have one’s ship come in, make a pretty penny, laugh all the way to the bank, strike it lucky, make a fortune folk, out for something for nothing. But, I am not interested in riches, affluence, opulence or prosperity. Surely proof of my insanity? Hehe!
I exited and made my way up the hill towards the bus shelter. Noticing this new sign on Mansfield Road as I hobble along.
I was the only person at the bus stop, and the pain from the foot and toes was sufficient to make me sit-down. Something I usually avoid due to Arthur Itis playing up when I have to stand again. Several other buses passed, a few dropping off, but no one got on any of them? Suddenly, it was as if a football match had just ended, and a mass of people turned up at the shelter.
But none from the flats. When the L9 arrived, I was the only person who got on. I was soon back at Windwood Heights.
The place was almost deserted. No signs of any workmen at all. Although there were signs of their activities along Chestnut Way.
The puddles had drained away while I was out on my walk (hobble, then).
More signs of the workmen’s activities as I got inside and to the lift foyer.
They had been working on the cut-through passageway to the new block and what will be eventually, the location of the Riechsführeress and Catwalk Model Warden’s new HQ, roof garden, new extra care flats, paediatrician, hairdressers and new reprimanding Inchcock cell. Haha!
I was utterly drained, shattered. All the walking, and the medications farce etc. had done for me. I had an unexpected LHBLWWs (Long Hosepipe-Blasting like Wee-Wee) and got the meal cooking.
I was ready to fall asleep while I was standing up. This bothered me a tad?
I got the food prepared after a while, an tucked into it, but could not eat it all. I put this down to how I felt, burnt-out, zonked, fagged-out, weak, almost narcoleptic!
I managed to do the washing of the pots and put the TV on, Rumpole of the Baily to watch, (but I just knew this would not happen) and fell on the £300 second-hand, c1968, rusty recliner and almost immediately fell asleep.
I was sickened when the landline rang, and the light flashed! At first, I thought of ignoring it altogether. Then thinking it might be the Chemist or Chiropodist, I rushed best as I could to answer it before they rang off…
I made it in time, amazingly it was Siste Jane, and the heart-stopped a second as I began to expect bad news, she would not ring this late knowing my sleep pattern unless it was. Thankfully, it was not bad news. Phew! She had sent me an email. I’m not sure if anything else was said or arranged though, my still being sleepy-eyed. Just glad it was not bad news!
Then, as I returned confused to the £300 second-hand rickety-recliner, that looked oh, so appealing, I stubbed the damned already stubbed six times toe this week, again! Seven times now! So, tired as I still was, the pain… nae, the agony kept me awake for a while. As it eased off, I got back to sleep. Ahh!