Wednesday 18th September 2019
Croatian: Srijeda, 18 Rujna 2019. Godine
03:55hrs: I woke very late for me. But then, I didn’t get my head down until four hours later than my usual time. Thanks to Tuesday’s hyperbole, dizzies, tumbling over, physiotherapy frustrations, amidst a day of an unusually high rate of; Accifauxpas, Whoopsiedangleplops, annoyances, infuriations, exasperations, vexations, irascibilities, provocations, torment, inconvenience, bugbears, and pretentious stress! Boy, I’m glad to get rid of that! Hahaha!
After those wild thoughts had come along with many other worries, concerns etcetera as I lay there, I managed to install Inchcock’s usual banal, ‘Thoughtless Amiable Placitudiness’ mode! I did ponder over whether I’d have the time to get to the Doctors to make an appointment to see her about the toppling-over getting a little frequent lately, and call at the chemist in Carrington to get the flu-jab, or at least book it. Then go to Lidl for some fresh tomatoes and potatoes. I hope I can.
But, first things first, I must get the Tuesday blog done, if possible, before the Morrison delivery arrives. So, out of the Brother-in-Law Pete damaged while he was flat-sitting, when I was in the Stroke Ward, and he fitted new CCTC cameras, and searched for my valuables, which he found and took, (I still haven’t got them back yet four-months later), £300, second-hand, near-dilapidated, gungy-beige coloured, c1968, sometimes working, uncomfortable, rickety, recliner, and as usual the GPEB (Grey-Plastic-Emergency Bucket) was utilised, again for a WPTU (Weak-Pathetic-Trickling-Unwilling) wee-wee.
To the kitchen and moved the handwashing onto the airer. Kettle on took the medications and made a brew.
Then the Porcelain Throne usage was called for, so, off to the wetroom. The evacuation was a duplicate of both of yesterday’s effort. Massive! But no bleeding at all. I’d like to know where it’s all coming from?
The legs seemed to be thinner, still so pale, and the flipping knees were still painful when moving. In fact, Anne Gyna joined in with Arthur Itis as the chief angst giving ailments of the morning. On the bright side, Reflux Roger, Hernia Henry, Back-Pain Brenda, and Duodenal Donald, were all being kind to me. And, up to now, no Neuropathic Schuhplattler dances from the leg! Or Shoulder jerking. The fingers seemed to be sensing everything they make contact with, and only the milk bottle has been dropped… so far! So, things might be going to go better today… I shouldn’t have said that, should I? Humph! Hok a chainik? I had another WPTU wee-wee.
With determination, I got the post updated, with no bother from the fingers you see! Super! As I was setting up to start on this post, the intercom went – yes, I heard it this morning? Things are going well today!
The chap, decent sort of bloke, put the bags through the door for me. I’d forgotten to give him the used carriers and went to fetch them. When I got back to the door with them, he mentioned that 80% of his customers forget the bags. I took them a couple at a time, into the kitchen, and set about emptying them of produce.
I’d treated myself to some brown extra-large free-range eggs. Got some black bean sauce on offer for three small pots. Some frankfürters, Polish and German, I thought they might go well with the BBQ rice? I remembered to get some more Senna tablets. And two pots of Sticky Rib Pot Noodles, cause the two of them only cost a quid, on offer.
I intended to put them in there usual spot, on above of the top cupboard… Just at the wrong time, the arm started playing up, as I was gently guiding them into position with the blue grabber-stick… They both fell, as an involuntary Hitler Salute was given! One of them fell into the bowl of water, splashing the kettle and even onto the stove, my trousers and floor! Huh! A bit of drying things up, and I decided to store them behind the samovar on the countertop in the future. Grumph!
I had another WPTU wee-wee. Then got on with starting this blog, up to here. I had to stop, to get the ablutions done, so I would have time to get to the Doctors, Chemist and Lidl.
Back later (All being well, anyway. Hehe!)
The ablution session was chock-full of dropsies like ne’er before! Almost anything dropable was dropped! The spectacles. The toothbrush (2). The mouthwash bottle. The flannel (4). The razor (2), the shaving foam. The Shower-head. The towel. The socks (5-6 times). The sock-glide. The bag of PPs and body spray can! And this list is only the ones I can remember! Oh, and the Drain unblocker!
As I was almost ready to leave and get dressed properly, Dizzy Dennis paid a call on me. How I managed to avoid going over, was thanks to the fact that I just cleaned shower stool, and it was used to support by replete, wobbly mass. It took a while before things settled, so I used the seat for a few minutes. But once they did, all was normal again. Well, I mean as normal as is possible nowadays. Haha!
I took the black bags, and deposited them down the chute, on the way out, and made my way to the elevators. The boot-marks were highly artistically done, I thought. The second lift was still out of order. It was a laugh really, as the one working elevator, went from the 15th floor, bypassed the twelfth, stopped at the 4th, on down to the ground floor. Up to the 6th floor, 9th and then 10th floor, and back down again to the ground floor! It seemed to be determined not to stop at my 12th floor, Snortle! (I wrote this on back of the reminder notes I taken with me, to prompt me later!) Then, up to the 15th, and finally down to the 12th floor! I had a laugh about the lift farce with a chap in the cage, who said he had been waiting for ages, and the last time the elevator got to his 15th, it went straight down again.
I got to the bus stop on Chestnut Way. A good-sized ganglet of Windwoodonian tenants were there. Much nattering, moaning, complaining and joking about was enjoyed between us all.
Boarded the bus when it arrived. I just went the two bus stops down Winchester Street hull, or even hill (Tsk!), and started the hobble along Mansfield Road into Sherwood.
The RAI (Rheumatoid Arthur Itis) knees, got more comfortable as I was limping along. Which they often do. Stopping or sitting for short periods are the worst, like catching a bus and having to get off five or ten minutes later, the agony of getting up again has made me try to avoid sitting down if I can, when out.
As the mind wandered, the EQ told me that things would not be so bad today? ‘You must be joking’, I silently replied to him! But, he is rarely wrong!
Up the hill, gentle and steady, no rush, I was that late anyway. Hehe! Continuing along Mansfield Road, down into Carrington.
A pug-faced, scared to ride on the road, ignorant, uncaring, smug, shorts-wearing pillock of a Nottingham Pavement Cyclist appeared from nowhere and came close to having me over. I turned to take this photograph of the animal. However, I was not as bothered as I usually am by these bully-boys.
As I approached the entrance to the Sherrington Park Medical Practise, I felt a little blasé about the visit, my confidence was low. With all the letting me down over the Warfarin changing and not letting me know, leaving me unsure if I had a blood test due or not, what dosage to take. Telling me my when the next one was, and no nurse turning up, then a Nottingham City Homes lady rang them for me, and found out there is now months to go between blood tests. It made it worse because when I rang them last Monday, and eighteen times, I got different messages, but basically, they all said: ‘All the telephone lines are busy. Please ring back after 11:00hrs’ (and this, even at 16:00hrs!) was disturbing.
When I got in and asked the receptionist for an appointment with the Doctor. She asked me if it was urgent. I explained what the problem was, and I heard a beep from her computer. It seems I am now graded as HR (Whatever that is?), with a flashing red light on top of my page. The lady didn’t seem to mind me sneaking a look at the screen. Hehehe! I am now graded as To be offered the first appointment available in the event of me having an urgent problem? At least I think that is what was explained to me. Something close to, anyway.
She then said… wait for this… “The Doctor can see you in ten minutes!” Blimey! I felt all guilty for my earlier denunciatory thoughts! I thanked her and took a seat in the waiting area. I searched in the three-wheel trolley’s broken, ripped, torn, and the hanging loosely fitted bag, for the crossword book. But it was not there.
Dr Vindla came to fetch me into her room. I explained all about the falls, means, times etc. and what I was doing when I went over. She asked various questions of me, said she was going to refer me to the ‘Geriatric Falls Team’. And she got on the phone and did so straight away. I looked them up in the morning. I mentioned the ankle ulcer might be coming up again, and she had a quick look. No, it was another one of the numerous Clopidogrel rashes coming through, where the ulcer was. Nowt to worry about. The knees were playing up when I came to leave. I thanked her and departed, handing some nibbles to the receptionist on my way out.
I made my down to the Carrington Pharmacy. Where I inquired about booking for a flu jab. I was told if I’d like to wait, it can be done today. So I did. I wandered around the shelves nosing at things, and Deepak, the owner, came over, almost insisting that I sit in one of the chairs to wait. I explained about being better of moving, and why, and he reluctantly agreed. Then, Kiran came over to invite me into the treatment room to have the flu jab.
She was kind and explanatory in what was going to happen and concerned about me being on Warfarin. Also, as she noticed how unsteady I was on my feet, I explained that this was due more to the Rheumatoid Arthritis than anything. But she called a chap in to watch me as she did the injection, just in case. She explained it was going to hurt. When I told her I felt nothing at all, she looked taken aback a little. I explained the Peripheral neuralgia and Axonotmesis nerves dying off, was probably why there was no pain felt. I thanked her for the pleasantly, caringly done, fine service! Thank you, Deepak and Kiran! ♥
I poddled down to the Lidl shop.
The depressed hassled, irritated, perturbed, and irked looking staff caught my eye, Gawd, they must hate the job! I bought some Blush Tomatoes, roasted hazelnuts and a bag of Demerara sugar. Paid at the self serve tills, under the watchful eye of a severely glum, hang-dog looking, obviously well-pissed-off young assistant.
At the bus stop outside, I caught a bus into Sherwood. With the knees stiffening on the short ride, a complete stranger asked me if I needed a hand to get off of the bus. I declined but thanked him for his kind offer. As I stood on the pavement after getting off, I thought to myself; ‘Do I really look that poorly and dilapidated? Getting old can be a shock, you know! Hehehe!
I momentarily considered walking back up Winchester Street hill. I soon realised that was a bêtise, and made my up the road towards the bus stop. There was plenty of time before the bus was due, so I nipped into the Ozan Store for a wander around. I found some smaller jars of pickled mushroom, a lot dearer than the larger ones, but I can’t open them, even using the fancy tool. So, I bought one. Paid and slowly ambled up to the bus stop.
I had a ‘Thoughts Storm’ en route. In the photo above, there has been four Barber Shops open recently? Why? Two closed down last year! How can they expect to make them pay? I passed the corner where a 78-year-old was murdered two years ago. The knees are worse than ever now! Reflux Roger is too, I’ve never had so much hassle and pain from him! The involuntary belching started, and boy was it loud, and every one stung summat rotten! It worried me a bit, this did. Worst of all, I’d forgot to mention it to the Dr Vindla! Despairing-Mode-Adopted! Which should not have, not with the good luck I’ve had seeing the Doctor so quickly, getting the Flu Jab done… Poor old twit!
Waiting for the bus, I decided to have two of the extra strong eggs, no, I mean extra-large ones. I planned the nosh and kept to it as well. Pickled mushrooms, gherkins, beetroot, and tomatoes. Butter some milk roll bread, and make sarnies as I work my way through the feast. I got back to the flats, no residents out and about on the bus or grounds.
And prepared the meal as I had blueprinted in my mind earlier. Oregano and salt on the eggs, sliced with the Poundland shop slicer. It was not very good, but still. I would have put some black pepper on as well, but the ‘Mysteries of my beloved Woodthorpe Court, that lies somewhere between the twilight zone and a wormhole slipping through a tear in the fabric of space & the spacetime continuum, illusion, delusion, & hallucination’, made sure I could not find the pot! Tsk!
When I got the bread opened, the Warburton’s Milk Roll, I found that they had given me what looked like some engine or machine oil for gratis, on the crust! So, anyone who buys this bread should be aware! It’s happened to me before.
However, I did enjoy it, until Reflux Roger started playing up, leaving a bitter sour taste in the throat and chest. Before the acid reflux started, I’d give this meal a Flavour Rating of 7.5/10. After the reflux bother, 2/10, if that!
I got the washing up done. Took the medications, and got the handwashing done. I did manage to get the camera in time though, to take a couple of bubbles, before they disappeared! Hehehe!
I settled in the £300, second-hand, near-dilapidated, gungy-beige coloured, c1968, sometimes working recliner.
Reflux Roger kept me from nodding off for a long time. Breathing with gasps and intake of breath, mini-coughs, then belches that may have woke up someone three floors away!