Saturday 14th December 2019
Mongolian: 2019 оны 12-р сарын 14-ний Бямба гараг
23:55hrs: I stirred into mock-life. But I fear I was still in a depression, irked and soured so much by my innocent missing of the Phlebotomy Nurse yesterday. I stewed over it further; No updated Anti-Coagulation Deep Vein Thrombosis Record Sent to me. No notification of doses or INR level from the Doctor’s surgery. No indication of the day of this blood test! I know I shall soon be getting complaints through, though; Why have you not attended the surgery for your INR blood Test? Why did you not ensure you were in for… Oh, forget it, I’m making myself ill worrying about it.
The stomach’s calling me to the Porcelain Throne helped me to partially break some of my moroseness, I think. Out of the £300, second-hand, near-dilapidated, c1968, sometimes working, horrendously-gungy-beige coloured, uncomfortable, rickety, rinky-dinked, rattling, rusty recliner. I grabbed the four-pronged walking stick, caught my balance, and trotted, well, hobbled to the wetroom.
I had to hasten to get sat down in time. While the evacuation proceeded and at a snail’s pace, I pondered over how quickly I had moved from computer to the throne. I was impressed. Arthur Itis was almost non-existent? But, I still rubbed some Phorpain gel in when I’d completed my toileting. The evacuation, although mammoth and very slow, was bloodless, not messy and painless, unbelievable! A Smug-Mode was almost adopted, but my EQ suggested I didn’t go into that yet? So I stayed in my sorry, Irked and Pissed-off inclinationalistic mode. Off to the kitchen.
I got the kettle on and moved the handwashing to the airers. Took my medications, with a guzzle of the Peptac, and made a brew. I soon discovered I had a selection of mouth and lip ulcers, that had seemingly come out overnight, the moment I first drank a sip of tea. Argh! Hehe!
I got the computer going, and started to get the updating done on yesterday’s blog. Oh, dearie me!
So much for Thursday’s service going down to enable then to improve the internet for us. Swine! Still, to my pleasant finding, it wasn’t for long, and came back on its own volition! That’s an improvement, let’s hope it continues, Mr Fries. (You’ll forgive my lack of confidence?)
The updating was even perverse than usual. The new keyboard layout had joined forces with myasthenia gravis and neurotransmitter failure, to cause me to take longer than ever in the task. But, with blind-hope, p[lodding away and persistence, I did get it done a few hours later. Posted it off, and then needed to go for another Porcelain Throne visit.
And what a difference to the first visit! Messy, smelly, almost red in colour, a lot of bleeding and the texture was the opposite of one a few hours earlier, it reminded me of a torpedo-shaped bale of red hay? Sorry, but that’s how it was! I considered taking a photo and sending it to the Tate Gallery, they are showing no signs of interest in buying the pictures of my warping legs. Hahaha! I washed up and disinfected the contact points.
Back to the kitchen this time. I was getting withdrawal symptoms with only having the one mug of tea. I planned to sip it carefully around the lip ulcers. I got the tea and sipping the brew nice, and slowly I avoided catching most of the sores and enjoyed those first few mouthfuls.
I took a couple of shots through the unwanted and unlike, light & view-blocking, hard to use thick-framed new kitchen windows.
The Moon, high in the sky tonight
Nottinghamians dwellings. Some their own, squatters, a few paid for.
I made a start on this post. And after a few hours, I had to go for Poprcelaoin Throne visit number three! I was well-pleased when it turned out similar to the first one, but with bleeding, not as bad as the last one, mind. The pins (legs) were filling with fluid again. However, Arthur Itis was still being kind to me, which was excellent!
Another hour or so, and it was time for the ablutionalisationing session. Just in case the Blood Angel nurse visits this morning. I’m not expecting her to on a Saturday, but you never know.
I can report that the ablutions went very well. A few dropsies, as is to be expected.
Smelling distinctly Dettolish afterwards, I made a mug of tea, and noticed that the moon was still out! And this was around 07:30hrs. Red Sky in the Morning, Shepherds Warning they say. I’ll have a look at the weather forecast. As long as that blustery blowing me about wind stays off, and the Nurse comes early enough if she is calling at all, of course, I may venture into Sherwood.
Mmm, maybe not then, if this forecast is right.
Well, I’ll get on with the Coreldarawing again and try to get some graphic tops done. Everything seems to be working towards stopping me these last few days. I spent many hours getting a few graphics done in advance at last.
When using CorelDraw with this new keyboard, bearing in mind, I was catching many a wrong key with the nerve-end lack of sensitivity problem. I’m not sure which was causing some of the advanced option choices that would appear on the screen, I didn’t know what they were about either! But F12 was getting hit often, and bringing up this:
Beats me! I kept hitting the F12, and still am doing, cause the old keypad had the backspace button in that same position. I’ve had many windows appear, and am totally lost as they all seem too technical for me. Poor old Zeyde!
During the hours-long graphicing, I had a few bad moments. I lost the new SD card when I came to using the camera, I knew full-well where I’d left it, but it wasn’t there. Confused and annoyed with myself, I carried out a search. Down on the knees to look under the computer desk – nope! Went through all the drawers, then my pockets, the kitchen, the bathroom, the hallway and back to the computer. I was sure I had laid the card on the writing pad, I could even remember telling myself not to forget where it was when I put the camera on charge! Gave up, off for a weak dribbling wee-wee, got the kettle on and back to the CorelDrawing.
And there it was! On top of not the pad, but the Tunstall Lifeline Emergency box! How I managed to miss seeing it, goes to prove that either Saccade Sandra was getting worse than ever, or, as is more likely, and mental capacity, brain and mind have gone into Defcon One mode, in readiness and preparation for utter failure! Ah, well, I’ve got the funeral all paid for, at cardboard coffin rates!
No nurse called to take the blood. So, it might be on Monday, or Tuesday, or Wednesday, or another day when I’m not in.
I got the nosh prepared. Pork pie meat, pate cobs, garden peas, beetroot and chips. It was late, well past my usual head-down time, and I was so tired and brain-drained, by the time I got to eat it, I couldn’t manage it all. But what I did eat was fair-enough taste-wise. A flavour rating of 6.8/10 given. But I was so weary, I felt sure that I’d soon nod-off. I put the plate to soak in the washing-up bowl. And went to the wet room, for a wash while
I still could.
I went to take off my second-hand, £2 charity-shop-bought wristwatch, with the £10 new strap and £15 new battery (Humph!) and it was not on the wrist. Mmm, I thought, wonder where that is? Got a rinse and teggies done, then went on a hunt to find the watch. I found it in plain view on the computer desk. Success! But not for long.
As I picked it up, the Peripheral neuralgia had an involuntary Neuropathic Schuhplattler drop-something and flail-about dance, and the watch flew out of my hand and fell down the back of the furniture! Crabs and Grobblecraps! I waited until my ailing right-sides floundering about had finished. Then got down on all fours to retrieve the cheap, but beloved, timepiece. I felt a burst of joy as I managed to reach and get it, hit my head on the cabinet on the way out from underneath, and spent a good while manipulating my grossly overweight, short, plump, heavily bellied body onto my feet. The chronometer was still working. Phew!
I was really getting wee’d off and felt shattered now.
I got settled in the antique, c1968, rickety, unbalance, none-working, wobbly recliner. Headphones on, and tuned to watch TV… Zzz!