Saturday 21st December 2019

Maori: Rāhoroi 21 Hakihea 2019

21:25hrs: I fell asleep really early, thus woke up so much earlier after five hours or so. But, I was in fine form. Anne Gyna, Duodenal Donald and Arthur Itis were all in a good mood with me. Only Dizzy Dennis and Saccades Sandra bothered getting at me, but neither was precisely vicious with it. So, as the expected call to the Porcelain Throne arrived. It was a semi-sprightly (using the term in none-actual fashion, very loosely), Inchcock that made his way to the wet room, and even using the wooden walking stick, such was his imprudent, foolhardy confidence. Will he never learn!

As I made my way, the rotten mind-numbing Hum seemed louder than ever, then, I swear I could hear a noise, like someone gargling loudly? But, the need for the evacuation took priority.

And oh, dearie me! The session went well, but the blood that flowed onto the toilet paper, frit me a bit. I shall have to go see the doctor about this. There was too much haemoglobin, and it was deep crimson, not the usual Harold Haemorrhoid red. This took the edge off of my rare bout of self-confidence! So much so, that when I’d cleaned up and medicated myself, I swapped the wooden, for the metal four-pronged stick.

Which was a miracle really? I was on my way into the kitchen, and very sillily and presumptuously used my right hand to grab the kettle with. The sensory nerves died, the pot flew, I nearly caught it and managed to prevent my going down on the deck because I had the right walking stick with me! By changing the sticks, I avoided a potentially right-serious Accifauxpa! Of course, it didn’t help the kettle lid from being broken-off when it hit the floor. So, I might be in trouble for the noise later on.

I thought, ‘It’s going to be one of those days, is it!’ After such a good start as well, Humph! 

I got the broken kettle plugged, and notwithstanding the loose, hanging off lid; it began to heat up. So, not all bad luck then, after all! A bit of a mixture really! I belatedly got the tablets for Thursday night taken. Then I made the brew. Regrettably, I needed a wee-wee. And it was of a brand-new to me, style one! I’ve given the acronym of a TBKIWAWBC (The-Bladder-Know-It-Wants-A-Wee-But-Can’t) I waited and waited. Finally, a few fluid ounces painfully made it. Tinkle-dribble, all done! However, on the bright side, Little Inchies fungal lesion was not bleeding. My lucks all up and down this morning, innit?

So, I had to make a fresh mug of tea, to replace the one that had gone cold while I was busy failing to wee-wee!

I went to get the computer going and realised I must have ricked my back during the kettle kerfuffle, for as I sat down on the swivel chair, Back-Pain-Brenda kicked off! Glory be, I’m such a lucky, fortunate Alter cocker! Am I not? Humph! I wonder what the number is for the Samaritans? Hehehe, only joking!

I rose with a mild Argh! And went to take a Codeine 30g, to ease the back pain, and took the morning meds at the same time. Then the bladder told me I needed to pass water. I spent another ten-minutes before giving up. Another new name, this was an ANGWW style, (A-No-Go-Wee-Wee)! Everything, seem to be going all wrong, well, out of sync, sort of oppugnant and discordant today? If it’s go-wrongable, it appears to be doing just that!

Well, sod-me! Can you really believe what has happened, unbelievable, inapposite? But it fits in with my pathetically congruent existence, I suppose. I wonder if Mr Fries is bothered at all? Nae, can’t see that! I just wrote the above passage, then turned on the computer, and…

Even an old experienced bad-luck coping nebekh like me has his limits, you know, Lord! Can’t you tell me what I’ve done wrong to deserve all this catastrophe, affliction, pain, ailments, mental torture, lousy luck, hassle, failure, frustration, and depression? Please! Unless of course, I was Stalin, Ho Chi Min, Attila the Hun, Hitler or I sired David Cameron, in a previous life? In that case, I can understand, mind, fair enough. Thank you.

I waited, rebooted but nop luck. So I did the handwashing, then back to the computer and it was going, although slowly. I cracked on with the first Friday funny blog. ‘Inchcock’s wobble to Nottingham, in the rain. A big un! Took me ages to get the rhyming anywhere near what I wanted, but I still enjoyed doing it. Then, I got the Inchcock Today for Friday finished off. It’s all hard work today!

Put some pictures on Pinterest. Then I went on the WordPress Reader section. A lot of decent stuff on there as well. Then the TFZer Facebooking. I always love going on there.

Then the stomach started hurting along with Back-Pain Brenda. I was a touch nervous about this development, so I went to the WC straight away. Well, the innards told me that I needed another heavy-duty session, but nothing came nor could be cajoled. The wee-wee was a minuscule trickle. What’s going on with things today? I took a Furesomide water tablet.

I went to make a brew. And while the injured (not fatal yet) kettle was boiling, I opened the unwanted, unliked, light & view-blocking, thick-famed, impossible to reach for cleaning new kitchen window, and took three photos across the view left to right. I would have liked top take panorama shot, but taking these are no longer viable, with the myasthenia gravis and peripheral neuropathy, it is sad, but I can longer make them, the hands and arm just will not allow me to make them. This is a disappointment to me. But has to be lived with and accepted.  At least I can do some ordinary photographicalisationing, even if it sometimes takes a lot of tries to get them right.

It’s a damned good job we don’t need the rolls of films like we used to have to use, otherwise, I’d be bankrupt! Hehehe!

The stomach started off again, same procedure, the innards telling me I needed a heavy-duty evacuation. Off to the wet room, I wobbled. No movement again, but I think the usually accompanying wee-wee, lasted a bit longer this time, for about three seconds! Gawd, neither end wants to work, now! Haha! Might as well laugh about it, I’ll have another, Har-har!

I took a shot of the pins to see hope they looked. Well, not the prettiest that they had been before. But not the worst either. The fluid seems to be building up again… fool me! It should be expected with no wee-weeing worth mentioning, shouldn’t it?

I still can’t understand it you know. These art galleries pay for things like a pile of bricks, or a banana on a bit of cardboard, but here is true art as far as I’m concerned. If they paid me for monthly pictures, they would ever get them looking the same, live-art! I’d settle for far less than the pillock who got fame out of putting some house-bricks on the floor did! I’m not jealous you understand, just because he got paid so much, oh, no! Well, yes, I am! Hehehe!

Time to get some graphicalisationing done. I’ve done selfies to use for the Little Inchcock faces on the blogs. I’ll get them resized and saved first. During which I had two wee-wees, of the style VSHS (Very-Short-Hosepipelike-Sensationless) mode. So the Furesomide must be working.

I spent many hours just to catch up with the graphic-making for the next few days. I was well shattered and tired by the time I got them made and felt too done-in to make the drafts. Closed everything down, and got the nosh prepared, and that took me ages, too! But it was worth it, a rather special nosh this turned out to be. I big one and I gobbled the lot of it on my knee in the recliner! Then destroyed the mandarin yoghourt.

Cheesy potatoes, smoked haddock, cod battered fish fingers, beetroot, tomatoes and canned garden peas with demerara sugar and salt.

Doing the washing up, was a mammoth task, with the cheese and fish bits sticking to everything, and I was really ready to sit and dose while watching the TV by then. There were three Devils Kitchens programmes on channel 47, I thought I’d try to stay awake to watch.

The rain, well drizzle, was safely outside.

Fatigued, I got settled in the xyrophobia-suffering Brother-in-Law Pete damaged, while he was flat-sitting when I was in the Stroke Ward, and he stole my valuables, recliner.

I recall the start of the first programme, then the wee-wee frenzy began! Gawd knows how many times I had to struggle out of the recliner to use the GPEWWB (Grey-Plastic-Emergency-Wee-Wee-Bucket). After a couple of hours or so, the painless USS (Urgent-Sharp-Short) wee-wees ceased as suddenly as they started?

The up and down wee-weeing routines had added to my weariness. The last kitchen episode was just starting on the TV. I was determined to watch at least this last one! But at the first set of commercials, the self-mind-storming starting! The concentrating, unwilling as it was, on the thought-storm took away any idea was watching or listening to the box. The fears, angst, worries, fretting, and overwrought emotions captured my mind, and my cherophobic and euphobia were brought to light for me to panic over. I became apprehensive, in a state of agitation for ages. Of course, the brain just skipped over each problem or fear, on to the next. Old failings, wrong decisions and routes I’d taken. From nowhere, a smidgen of an unexpected resolution came to me. “What the hell are you doing Inchcock?”

It was well-passed my getting up time before I nodded off!

Then had to get up repeatedly when the wee-wees returned! Curmudgeonly-Mode-Engaged!