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Wednesday 19th June 2019

Italian: Mercoledì 19 Giugno 2019

02:45hrs: I woke, (a decent six-hours kip) this Wednesday with an unnatural desire, nae, craving, to get the hand-washing I did last night, to the drying process. It was as if it was crucial, life-threatening or catastrophic consequences would be suffered if I did not get the t-shirt and socks onto the drier? 

This was not a velleity! But an essential, vital job that needed to be done post-haste, at least it did to me at the time? I don’t know or understand why, either!

I extracted the increasingly more massive torso from the £300 second-hand, c 1968, rickety, gungy-beige, occasionally working, vintage recliner. I totally ignored the need for a wee-wee and got the hand-washing bits on the drier. And for some weird reason, a feeling of satisfaction overcame me?

I responded to the need for a wee-wee, using the almost-full EGPWWB (Emergency Grey Plastic Wee-Wee bucket). It was of the LSPDOWWs (Long-Slow-Painfull-Drawn-Out-Wee-wee) variety, the type that actually wears me down a bit, all the waiting, praying and hoping for an end to the evacuation. Hehe! A long time later, all was done, and I emptied and sanitised the (often life and embarrassment saving) grey bucket, and disinfected it.

On to the computer, to update the Tuesday Inchcock. The computer or maybe the internet was very slow, but on the plus side, the right fingers, hand, arm, shoulder, and legs were a lot more kind to me, and their little electricity-inspired dances were few and far between. I can’t win, can I? The Axonotmesis, and the Peripheral Neuropathy damage to the nerves, for once eases off – which is terrific! But the flipping computer or internet plays up!

While on the computer, I found out I had been alive for 26,228 days, 3,747 weeks, 861 months, 37768321 minutes, 629472 hours, and 2266099348 seconds! Hehehe!

Yet, still, I suffer ailments (Issues as used by the NHS departments who refused to tend to my toenail cutting and pediatric needs – no, I mean podiatry needs). I suffer from abasia, ischaemia, anxiousness, nervousness, equivocation, aquaphobia, ophidiophobia, I regularly get urine infections, insipience, I’ve overcome alcoholism, got inscience, get panic-attacks, absent-mindedness, and anandriousness. I stopped smoking, Arthur Itis, Shaking Shaun, Dizzy Dennis, Peripheral neuropathy, Lethologica, Axonotmesis, Have a metal/plastic ticker, never got beyond being a Prol, aboulomania, arithmophobia, atrial septal defect, duodenal ulcers, dysphoria, deafness, colour blindness, and prostate cancer. Bullied at school, been shot, generalised anxiety disorder (GAD), made redundant twice, loneliness, then had a stroke, lost mobility, balance, and coordination. And I was granted at birth, with the smallest most embarrassingly miniscule whatsit, anyone has ever seen! A source of total shame, embarrassment, awkwardness, mortification, self-consciousness, shame, humiliation, and shyness in my younger years. Thus the weltschmerz joins this list!

But you don’t like to complain does yer!

In between a few more LSPDOWWs (Long-Slow-Painfull-Drawn-Out-Wee-Wee) wee-wees, I got the Tuesday post finished and sent off to WordPress and emailed.

I took some photographs of the early fog, which soon turned to a light mist.

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I went to take the medications, do the health checks, and make a brew of tea. The flipping sphygmomanometer needed three tries to get it to take. The results all looked fair to me: Sia 95, Dia 71, Pulse 34.9, and Temperature at 34.8°c.

I sudden call to the Porcelain Throne arrived, so off to the wet room. I went there without the stick. Although pleased with how I coped, I knew it was a silly thing to do. If the leg and arm started doing their involuntary ‘Hokey-Cokey’, I could have been in trouble. I must remember, no matter how galling it seems, I must take the stick or trolley-guide with me everywhere I go indoors.

I’d got the camera in my dressing gown pocket though, and decided to show you a picture of, possibly the most lethal piece of equipment in the apartment! Indeed, this month it has been, Hahaha!) The right big toe stubbing leg on the Red Cross provided second-hand used toilet seat raiser. I actually flinched as I took this photographicalisation! At the thought and memories of past-picklements and toe stubbings, I’ve had recently! Hehe!

Grumphski!

Turned all off, swore, and went to get the ablutions done. I took my time and was careful, all went smoothly. Got smelling nice, then dressed and readied the trolley, etc. for setting out to the Doctors to beg for some Biprolalol Beta-Blockers.

Then a thought came to me, (it has been known before, although not very often). I think that Caroline and or Sonia is due today? So I decided to go down to the Nottingham City Homes, Winwood Heights, Generaloberstesses Wardens Temporary HQ. WC, Holding cells. Rumourmongering Clinic. Sarcasm & Insult distribution area. Tenants Socialisationalistic zone. Telling Inchcock off thumbscrew room. Crockery and pottery to be stolen from location, and residents porta-cabin, and ask Obersturmführeress Warden and pole-dancer Deana, if she could phone them for me to be sure.

Just as I was about to go out, the landline light flashed. It was the surgery with the INR results and new doses. Took them down, thanked her and shot off out.

I got down and onto Chestnut Walk, and took a photo of the ‘Turf Accountant Gang’. The lads were laying the lawn in front of Woodthorpe Court.

T’was then I realised I had come out without the £2 second-hand rust-cased wristwatch. So back in, up in the lift and to the flat. I collected the watch.

Down and out again.

I met Sturmbannführeress Warden Deana as she arrived at the foyer door. I asked her, and she willingly called the Stroke Team for me. They were due today at 10:00hrs. I thanked Deana, and back in, up in the lift and to the flat, again.

I did of hoovering until both of the girls arrived…

On their last ever visit! (Gawd, life can be so cruel!) Sonia said she would have a talk with the nurse, to see if she can help sort out the tablet shortages for me. Caroline will refer me to an After-Stroke team who hold a weekly support group. The course will last for 18 weeks, and try to get me in the morning meetings.

The last farewells and cheerios with the ladies put me on a real downer!

Fed-up, I decided to catch the bus to anywhere! The mind mussed as I got things ready. I’ll go to Arnold, take some photographs, and get some pod peas. I was in a totally uninspired and dispiritingly dejected mood.

I was only half-with-it as I left the flats with the three-wheeled trolley-guide and shoulder bag with me.

I ambled out, not really with any oomph or gusto, just a determination to rid myself of the miserableness that had taken over my life, but no idea how to, and along to the bus stop.

A good crowd were at the bus stop, they were off for dinner at the cafe in Arnold. As I was handing out some nibbles, a chap came up with bad news: The Arnold bound L9 bus had broken down in town, and might not even get here at all! This would make a lot of folks late in getting to the diner. Many individual’s ideas, some people accepted lists from other tenants, some waited for the bus, others called for a taxi. Not a happy bunch of Winwoodonians at all! Oh, dear!

I pondered as I waited for the City bond L9 to arrive. And decided to go up to Woodborough Road on the bus, do some shopping, and made the penurious, masochistic decision to walk back down and through Woodthorpe Grange Park and nip in the Tropical gardens.

(Which proved to be one of my most painful ever mini-marathons, Humph!)

I made a full pictorial blog about this ill-fated, painful and miserable trip, and posted it the first computer task in the morning. https://gerrynottingham.blog/2019/06/20/72227/

I alighted the bus, and battled the scary traffic on my way first, to the greengrocers. Where I got some pod peas, not many, they were not in a very-fresh condition, toe big potatoes for Josie and me at the weekend, and some eggs.

Back out and I decided to catch a bus back down to the flats, as the feet and toes were particularly painful now.

I wandered down to see if the butcher had any cooked belly pork. He hadn’t, but I didn’t need it. The mood I was in probably had me yearning for some comfort food? All sorry for myself, pathetic!

But worse, as I came out of the shop, I stubbed my already-in-agony toe on the trolley wheels liting it done the step!

Then I had to stand pretending to take an interest in my surroundings and took a photograph, till the pain eased a bit. While I stood there, I saw the L9 bus go by early! Oy Vey!

Further dejected, I reverted to my plan to walk back down, through Woodthorpe Grange Park. I called in the mini-Sainsbury store en route and bought some oven-bottom-baked cobs, tomatoes and something else, can’t remember what at the moment.

I resorted the buys, and everything went in the shoulder bag, then into the trolley, well, I hung the container on the cart and set off on the marathon hobble home, down the steer Woodthorpe Drive hill.

I seemed to have gained the ability at, last, to stop the mind thinking, as I walked down the road, even when a pavement cyclist came up towards me, it didn’t really register. I was taking the shot to capture the speed-sign on the kerbside further down Woodthorpe Drive.

I kept stopping to ease the foot and toe, but by now, it didn’t bother me too much, and I have no idea why, but the discomfort was immense. And that’s not the right word either!

The humour returned home to me, a little further on down the road, as I took this photograph to use for a funny at some time in the future. Something like “I was not speeding with my three-wheeled trolley, here’s the proof!” Hehehe!

Down and around the bend, I arrived at the car park entrance, for the park. Hobbling through, I opted to take a rote to the Tropical Garden, that was new to me.

Crossing the car park into the fields and paths, I gave myself one hell of a good toe-stubbing against the broken road surface! I wish that I’d taken the four-wheeled-guide with me now, then I could have at least had a sit on it while I recovered. I imagine that the toe will be pretty… a bad word that let’s say well-blue by the time I get back home! Grumph! Gawd the pain is excruciating!

After a while getting lost, I fond the entrance gates to the Garden Centre and Tropical Garden. And procedure through them, stubbing the toe against the broken roadway!

Now I really was getting irritated and annoyed with myself!

I found a low wall and had a sit-down… then got up as I realised ants were covering my feet and trouser legs… and stubbed the toe once again! To avoid embarrassment, I left this out of the Maraton Hobble blog! Oy Gevalt!

Just when, and the only time ever; I would have welcomed the damned leg doing one of its out-of-control hokey-cokey dance routines, it wouldn’t! I spent an age trying to painfully free myself of those invading ants, I’m not sure there are not some still in my pants!

After what seemed like a fortnight, I got myself at last moving again, gingerly, carefully and with a certain amount of trepidation, and briefly visited the Garden shop, nothing of interest in it for me.

Then, at last, I got to the Tropical House. Many more photographs in the dedicated blog near the top photo. The spectacles and camera lens misty-up with the heat. They must be in the middle of sorting things out afresh, cause man tree, bushes and flowers that were in there last time, had been uprooted. The bear had been moved too.

On my leaving, I spotted the sign about the automatic door. If it’s automatic, why do you need to press the button to open it? Haha!

I made my way, not only in pain, but now feeling drained and tired, and a smidge of an annoying self-Pity-Mode came on.

The rest of the hobble-home seems to have a lot of detail from the brain?

I know it was terribly painful.

Back at the hospital, no, home at last!

It looked like a ghost town.

I crossed over the road, in the lobby, up in the elevator, around to the flat and got in, with not a soul in sight.

Before doing anything, I had a wee-wee, a long smarting wee-wee! Washed, took a painkiller. Then got two eggs in the saucepan ready for boiling. Sliced and buttered the bottom-of-the-oven baps, and sliced some tomatoes.

Put the purchases away, and changed into my night attire.

No fancy meals tonight, no time. I was in agony with both feet and the right big toe, and I wanted to stay awake long enough to watch the England Ladies match against Japan.

So, the battered haddock lump, two eggs, (disappointingly I’d bought the small eggs and not the double-yolk ones, Huh!). Tomatoes and put the eggs into a bap as I ate them! Too tired to be fussy tonight (well, this late afternoon) Although shattered, I ate it all and enjoyed it. A flavour-rating of 7.2/10 for this one.

Washed the pots and settled in the £300 second-hand, c1968, grotty-beige, rickety recliner. Hoping no one would phone or ring the doorbell.

I fell asleep and missed the beginning of the football match. I’m so glad they had won the game, but it was nerve-making.

Then I couldn’t get back to sleep.

Worra day!