Saturday 12th October 2019
Malagasy: Alahady 12 Oktobra 2019
03:30hrs: I woke up, feeling fed-up and wee’d-off, with feeling fed-up and wee’d-off! Even if the failed turn-ups from Nottingham City Homes every single day this week, and also if they do arrive on Monday next (Eight days after the hot water supply failed on me) as promised again; I’ll have a minimum five-hour plumbing job, Draining of the tank, new parts fitted, Removal, moving of storage tank with all the resulting mess and cleaning up to do afterwards, refitting of the storage tank, refilling of the storage tank, then wait for the electrician to arrival and reset and get the water-heater going – Mind you, let’s look back at the promised arrivals and the actual arrivals this past week:
- Monday: Promised arrival 1 – Actual arrivals 0
- Tuesday: Promised arrival 1 – Actual arrivals 0
- Wednesday: Promised arrival 2 – Actual arrivals 0
- Thursday: Promised arrival 1 – Actual arrivals 0
- Friday: Promised arrival 3 – Actual arrivals 2 – But the job had been mistimed and could not be actuated. Thus, more promises for getting the job next Monday!
My confidence has been shattered, as has my will-power, faith, trust and hopes.
I had and still do, to use the shower have to fill the wet room sink to wash and shave, the results: Slipped on the wet floor rag – injured elbow, hurt back. Scalded when taking a pan of hot water from the kitchen and got the Peripheral Neuralgia shakes, causing me to drop the container! This has happened twice. Burnt the back of my hand when collecting pans from the stove, same reason, the shakes.
The worst one perhaps was dropping a saucepan in the kitchen, and the ensuing pain form Back-Pain Brenda when I bent down to retrieve the pan and lid, then the added discomfort from Rheumatoid Arthur Itis’s knees! But, there is plenty of time for more injuries before the promised (possibly) arrival on Monday of the plumber then, an electrician. But they have still got plenty of reasons not to come yet again in their filing cabinet, I’m sure. As Warden Deana quoted the maintenance team member she had been talking to last Monday, ‘Well it’s not an emergency, he can use the shower to get hot water!’ So, it’s my fault, it seems? I do apologies!
Luckily, all this failure to communicate, incompetency in arrangements, mental torment, and injuries I’ve suffered all week waiting for help, don’t bother me in the slightest. Lie Mode Engaged!
Oh dear, I’m mind-blasting again, sorry.
After stewing in self-pity for a while, I reticently disentwined my abdominous, well-upholstered, wobbly chassis from the Xyrophobia-suffering 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 five-months later), £300, second-hand, near-dilapidated, gungy-beige coloured, c1968, sometimes working, uncomfortable, rickety, rinky-dinked, rattling, rusty, resurrected, reconditioned, recalcitrant, recidivating and rotting-away recliner.
Which was surprising really, cause I ate only a small meal last night, of Dagwood sarnies and a few chips. It was possibly the Soul Food Chilli from Thursday that was working its way through? And, I’ve still got a pot of it left to eat yet, Hehe!
So, I took just one Warfarin, hoping this would be the best thing to do, to avoid over-dosing and getting the blood too thin. Especially with the chances of blisters from scolding with having to take the boiling water to the wet room for shaving later!
Back to Junk Room 2 and went on the WordPress reader section. Answered some comments. Then started this blog off.
The white moon was out, and I took a photographicalisation of it. Not a good one, but still, I did my bestest with the sensitiveness absent in the fingers and all that.
I went on the TFZer site on Facebook, with a lot of catching up to do. Which took me two hours!
I got the Soul Food Chilli in the saucepan and added, sliced tomato, black bean sauce, and a pinch of salt to the mix.
I’ll leave them as they are, I think. I’m certainly not up to trying to sort it out now.
I left the bowl and spoon in the bowl in the sink, after having so annoyingly had to boil water in the kettle and large saucepan, to cover them, to let the things soak.
Into the Xyrophobia-suffering crook and Brother-in-Law Pete, damaged, second-hand, c1968 recliner, and I soon fell asleep, as the innards began to rumble!
Exhausted from the hubble-bubble of getting to the Throne on time, and the cleaning up after the session, I then had to boil some water to wash and antisepticise things! Worryingly, the stomach continued to grumble?
Head down again, but sleep was resistant this time. I put theTV on, and that worked a treat, Zzzz!
So, I thanked him and rose to get the kettle and all the pans on the stove, to boil water for a wash and shave, before the pharmacist arrived with the medications.
I got the medications inside and checked them.
I noted that they had sent two months supply this time. There must be a Bank Holiday coming up soon then.
I was still so weary, I just left the medications on the trolley, they can be put away later when I’m feeling better. Which if left to Nottingham City Homes Maintenance, means when (if) they do get the hot water flowing again, they can always leave a note with the Funeral Parlour, to go in the coffin to let me know! (Tired, In-pain Pissed-off Sarcasm Mode Adopted). Hahaha! Mind you, there is a radical alternative to burial and cremation, it’s called Alkaline Hydroysis, (Sound like lone of my ailments, Hehehe!) that I fancy having. A “gentle, eco-friendly alternative to flame-based cremation” using an alkaline solution made with potassium hydroxide to reduce the body to a skeleton. (Providing Nottingham City Homes Maintenance don’t kill me first [Good bit of sarcasm slipped in there!], not that it will. But, after over a week of nothing happening in response to my hot-water problem, apart from failed promises, and not a word from the NCH men in charge, I think it is fair for me to feel aggravated! And I am! Waiting in for non-arriving appointments, mega sleep-deprivation, accidents caused through transporting hot water by kettle and saucepans… still, are they bothered? Even after calls from my After-Stroke Support worker! A well-scripted letter to a newspaper about this might be a good idea? With me having so many ailments that the NCH are not interested in, Anne Gyna, Dizzy Dennis attacks, falling-over, tripping up, Duodenal Donald ulcer, Bladder cancer, the plastic heart valve fitted, RAI (Rheumatoid Arthur itis), Harold Haemorrhoid’s and the fungal lesion bleeding merrily away. Peripheral Neuralgia, that has caused me mobility problems, and left me with the right side of my body, leg, fingers, hands, arm, and even the shoulder, doing their occasional unintentional Neuropathic Schuhplattler dance routines. Then having the stroke, to name but a few. It beggars belief that any septuagenarian tenant in poor health, can be lied to for five days on the trot, being told someone will come out, and they did not! It is now eight-days since the hot water failed in my apartment in this high-rise, so-called £11m Retirement Village. Another assurance that the problem will be tackled next Monday has still to be proven or disproven! And I am so dejected and depressed by the failure to respond and help me. They do not even communicate directly but leave it to the Warden and men who did finally arrived on Friday, but too late in the day to carry out the repairs, for me to glean any details from. My abilities have lessened so much since the Stroke, and nobody seems to understand this.
A pity the News of the World isn’t still going, they might have taken up my cause. Hehehe! Who else can I take my complaint to? How do I go about it? Should I bother? Does anyone care? Probably not! No doubt the maintenance team must be under pressure, I understand this, and I am sympathetic about it. But the total lack of communication is really irking! If they cannot come for any of the daily arranged appointment (6 of them!), I wis they had a way of letting me now, then I would not have to make myself poorlier, by not getting any sleep while waiting to find out if they are coming or not, for six days on the trot, sleep deprivation was suffered, and this has caused my various ailments to give me a hard time healthwise. Nuff said! (Probably too much, enough to upset them. I’m worried now that moaning might make things worse for me. I could even be classed as a trouble-maker, and lose the flat?
The above passage above came from frustration and the heart. I just hope that someone in charge reads and absorbs it. It certainly isn’t nit-picking, but of genuine concern, well, to me at least!
It’s a bloody good job my mate helped out with the PP supply! I’m going through them like they were biscuits! Hehehe!
Back yet again to the £300, second-hand recliner, in search of sleep. Phwert! It took ages coming!
Yours, Lucky Inchcock. (Fib-detected!)
Nice heartfelt frustration essay. You have every right to be frustrated with nothing but broken promises and still no hot water. I think there’s a good Country and Western hit song lurking around all your woes, than someone need to grab onto and make hit with. The Dag sandwiches and Soul Food Chili look good.
Cheers, Tim.
Could they give the song a title like: ‘An Inchcock of Frustration!’ Hehehe!
Today should be the day of the repairs. Two maintenance men, the electrician and the plumber have promised me! Mmm?