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: 

1. Monday: Promised arrival 1 – Actual arrivals 0
2. Tuesday: Promised arrival 1 – Actual arrivals 0
3. Wednesday: Promised arrival 2 – Actual arrivals 0
4. Thursday: Promised arrival 1 – Actual arrivals 0
5. 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.

Off to the GPEB (Grey-Plastic-Emergency Bucket), for a wee-wee. But where was it? Nowhere to be seen? Had I been nocturnally wandering again? I searched without any luck, for so long, that I needed the Porcelain Throne, off to the wet room. Hoping the bucket might be in there as well, but no! I’d held back the wee-wee for so long, I had to whip down the pants and relieve myself straight away – and what a surprise I got! It turned out to be a wee-wee of the CMOUSTSTBOWV (Catching-Me-Out-Unwilling-Slow-To-Start-Then-Blasting-Out-With-Venom) style! There were few areas of the room that had not been caught in the splashback-spray! I had to clean myself and the surfaces with antiseptic disinfectant, wipe the walls and mop the floor! I kid you not!

After what seemed like an eternity, I got around to depositing my bum on the throne, ready for releasal activities. Boy, there was a lot of it this time, too! A little messy.

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!

To the kitchen, using the new multi-pronged walking stick! Made a brew, and got the medications taken. Realising, due to the tablets still being in last nights blister pack, that I had not taken last nights doses! What a plonker!

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!

I returned to the front room, and the computer was booted, and, I realised I had come back from the kitchen with one of the wooden sticks. Needing to get some practice with this stick’s multi-legs, I returned to collect it and swap it with the wooden one, si there is one in each room at all times. But I found myself walking passed the new stick several times before the brain ‘stopped looking for a wooden stick’. Hmm, clot! It was standing up on its own near the stack of storage boxes, which are also grey. But, I am probably looking to assuage my stupidy here! Haha!

Back to Junk Room 2 and went on the WordPress reader section. Answered some comments. Then started this blog off.

The finger-ends sensitivity was terrible this morning. Typing anything was taking me an age! Correcting spelling mistakes, grammatical errors, an clearing the odd row of unfelt to the fingers-tips single letters, where I’s and E’s were the worst offenders, as is to be expected, they are both typed using the Peripheral neuralgia affected right-hand digits to type. Being a person of the volgivagant kind, I think actually helps me to accept these ailments or issues, more readily. Certainly more readily than I can accept being pissed about and lied to for over a week, over the hot water repair job! (Steady Inchcock, don’t get yourself going again, or you might have another stroke!)

I went to make another brew of tea, using the multi-prong-footed walking stick. When I say using the multi-prong-footed walking stick, I don’t mean to make the char with, I mean walking to the kitchen with. Hahaha!

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 was summoned by the innards to go back to the Porcelain Throne, so I did! The evacuation was swift, but again, messy! A look at the pins (legs) made me take a picture of them. Oh, so different to yesterday’s photo of the same legs; they seem to change several times a day! The Tate gallery should show these photographs. I’m not sure in which section they should be in, though! Haha!

I went to make another brew to replace the one that had gone cold. And there were a lot of Crows, breakfast hunting and baby-birds training, out there suddenly. By the time I’d power-hobbled to fetch the camera and got back with it, the birds were few and far between. This sad effort on the right is the best I could manage. Substandard, unsatisfactory, shoddy, schlocky and egregious, second-grade photographicalisationing, I know. And this is one of my better bird in flight efforts! Tsk!

I went on the TFZer site on Facebook, with a lot of catching up to do. Which took me two hours!

Sudden crave for food? (And sleep, rest, peace, and mental quietude) I did not feel well at all, but this didn’t seem to curb my desire for food, and so early in the day, too!

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 turned off the computer and returned to stay in the kitchen for the heating up and constant stirring of the nosh. Then I took this photo of the sky outside. Realising in the morning when I got the picture on the computer, I had somehow changed the camera setting for the picture size or shape. I do remember the shaking jumping hand when I took the snap, but have no idea how or what I did to change things.

I’ll leave them as they are, I think. I’m certainly not up to trying to sort it out now.

Got the nosh served up. Good as it tasted, I found I was battling to stay awake while eating it. Flavour-rating: 8/10. I think that I must have got the seasoning different to last time. Humph!

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!

But not sleep for long! I woke in need of a Porcelain throne visit. I hobbled to the wet room as fast as I could – but embarrassingly did not make it on time – such was the grip that Diarrohea Donald (Chilli?) suddenly had over me! Thank heavens for two things; the evacuation was not overly messy and for the PP’s!

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!

Until the landline phone light and ring sounded and woke me up again! Twas the chemist, telling me they would deliver the prescriptions in about an hour! Another waking-up – I nearly cried, I wanted to!

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.

True to their word, the friendly pleasant waking-me-up chemist people arrived, just as I was finishing the wash, and treating the scold mark on my tummy from the splashed hot water, from the saucepan-to-sink transference! (Thank you, Nottingham City Homes Maintenance Managers).

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 checked in the morning, but could not see any Bank Holidays, until December? 

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!

I had a rather sad wee-wee of the WYSAO (Weak-Yet-Spraying-All-Over) style and almost tripped myself up with the new walking stick. Easily done for me. It stands upon the four little legs on its own, and I’d forgotten it was there as I reached for the regular wooden stick, walking into the new one as I did. It’s going to take some getting used to this metal stick is.

Back and got my head down again. Sleep was hard to encourage, so I put the TV on again… then, I needed yet another Porcelain Throne Session! Another panic-flap-rush to the Throne. Again resulting in a very embarrassing, uncomfortable and cringe-worthy early escapage! The evacuation was over quickly, but not the cleaning up!

Thanks to the non-response of Nottingham City Home maintenance, this meant again, my boiling water on the stove and kettle, to clean up with. A burn on the side of the hand on the saucepan, was the only injury this time. But the Peripheral Neuralgia shakes, meant as expected it would, in spillages of hot water in the transporting of the saucepans form the kitchen, and even dropping an empty pan on the way back to fill it up again. Which caused more pain from Arthur Itis and Anne Gyna as I had to clear it up, once more, my disgust at the way I had been treated by Nottingham City Homes, came to the fore!

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!)