Thursday 26th December 2019

Icelandic: Fimmtudaginn 26 Desember 2019

23:35hrs: I woke up, probably instigated by Shaking Shaun in the first place. He continued to give me the shuddering-shakes for a few minutes, as I tried to grasp for a grip on some sanity. The awareness and control of my contumacious, recusant and largely uninterested mind, fought against any more input.

As the shakes became manageably calmer, a beseeching call to the GPWWB (Grey-Plastic-Wee-Wee-Bucket) arrived. I mused on how terrible a day yesterday was for me (Self-pity sneaking in there again? Tsk!), and took an SSBDKWTSD (Short-Sharp-But-Didn’t-Know-When-To-Stop-Dribbling) Wee-wee. While waiting for the dribbling to stop, I realised that once again, the big three, Duodenal Donald, Arthur Itis and Anne Gyna, were all acting calm for me. Smug-Mode-Adopted! Little inchy eventually stopped his trickling, just as the urgent call to the Porcelain Throne came.

Unfortunately, I tripped over the walking stick as I turned to make my way to the wet room! This being my own fault entirely, as when I dropped the stick on the floor last night, getting into the recliner, I was so low and pissed-off, I thought, Sod it! And I left it there! Justice was done! I got myself up on my feet again with some effort, and muttered some silent, self-denigrationalistic and naughty words, tutted and got myself to the WC post haste!

The session’s leading descriptive words would be; Massive, Painful, Solid, Flesh-tearing, Bloody and yet quick! The colossal amount of evacuated product was the most surprising factor. I’ve had only half-a-pork-pie in the last 39 hours (Just not hungry? Mostest peculiar for me), and visited the Throne last night getting rid of a right dollop, and now this torpedo of considerable size has come this morning? Ah-well, I’m glad it’s gone! The volume was so much, that again the system didn’t clear things the first flush. With this loo taking 40 minutes to refill the tank, I’ll nip back later and give it another go.

I got the computer on, Virgin was working, slowly, but working. I answered some comments (1), from Bill in the USA. As I was doing so, the neuropathy and autonomic nerves in the arm, fingers and hand played up, and I must have lost control altogether, cause somehow I’d made this comment go to ‘Spam’? No idea how I did it. But I could not get it back, I went into Comments and okayed it, but it didn’t show on the list? I think I got to answer it in the end, it was about toe stubbing.

I had a sneezing bout, passed wind, and needed the bucket again. But I needn’t have bothered for it was a DAAOJ (Drip-And-All-Over-Job!) Then I set to updating the gloomy, sad Christmas Day blog. It took me a few hours, and I didn’t need a wee-ee or the Throne all the way through!

I did afterwards though, well, a wee-wee. I went to the WC for this one, taking the bucket with me, to be emptied and disinfected.

I took a shot of the pins (legs) when I got back. They were rather pale compared to yesterday. The Deep vein Arterial Thrombosis, Varicose and spider veins and blood papules all seemed less protruding, too.

I went on the Email and had received one from Sister Jane. This clarified what xyrophobia-suffering Brother-in-Law Pete had been diagnosed with. It is Follicular Lymphoma. I looked it up: is a type of non-Hodgkin lymphoma (NHL). It develops when the body makes abnormal B-cells – the lymphoma cells. B-cells are white blood cells that fight infection. The lymphoma cells usually build up in lymph nodes, but FL can start in any part of the body.

Another description I found was: (Blood Cancer) Follicular lymphoma (FL) is typically a slow-growing or indolent form of non-Hodgkin lymphoma (NHL) that arises from B-lymphocytes, making it a B-cell lymphoma. This FL is the most common sub-type of low grade (indolent-otiose) lymphoma and accounts for 20 to 30% of all NHL cases.

So, I can understand Jane and Pete being a little more content now. Marvellous news!

Back to the blogging work, and got the 25th’s post sent off to WordPress. Not many pictures on it, but I sent them to Pinterest.

I made a start on this publication and then nipped back in to try flushing the WC again. It seems to have cleared the Dongfeng-41 (DF-41, CSS-X-10) ICBM sized evacuation for me. I took a photo of the pins while I was in there. Still the same, pale but with fewer lumpinesses, and far less varicose and spider veins showing.

The work of the Age Concern Assured Quality decorator can be seen in the background on the door. I’m so glad I believed them and used this bloke! Reassuring to have Age Concern UK to help you. Humph!

I then went on to the WordPress Reader. Got a message from Tim in New Mexico and replied. It made me laugh out loud! Then I went on the TFZer Facebooking page. Then turned everything off, and tended to the coenaculous fancies, and I  had a nibble, buttered two wholemeal cobs and ate them with the last of the pork pie and a cuppa.

Black bags were taken to the chute. Carpet cleaning duties.

Off on an ablutionisationing mission. Which was erm… interesting to say the least. With the polyneuropathy neurotransmitters, which had been acting so infrequently up to now, I was caught out with their sudden loss of insensitivity to touch, and a record amount of dropsies were the result. Razors, shaving cream, toothbrush, mouthwash bottle, flannel, carbolic soap, loofa, nail brush, towels to name just a few! And the sock-glide battle must have taken me longer than it took to pick the cotton and make the socks! No injuries, though. Still, I didn’t mind, for today I planned on visiting the Winwood Court rooftop, and meeting someone to talk to.

I got ready, and off I poddled with the new three-wheeler, the one with lousy brakes, on the new Winwood Court photographicalisation walkabout. I took a snap of the electronic notice sign outside the lift, catching it just as the picture message was changing. The light rain stayed on all day.

The main noticeboard I perused.

No Dizzy Dennis or Shaking Shaund visitations up to now, and that thought brought a smile to my moustached, pot-marked treble-chinned face! Haha!

I went through the swipe door, into the welcoming warmth of the Winwood Court link corridor.

I still haven’t been on the alfresco seating benches outside since it was built. The weather has not been kind, but, if I last long enough, I hope to sit out there doing my crossword puzzles, with a flask of tea in the sunshine. This made me wonder, ‘Where did I put the flask? I hobbled on through the tellurian-free link passageway, into Winwood Court proper, keeping an eye out for any other tenants to trap and chinwag with. Hehehe! I went through to the big social area where the kitchen is, that is always popular with the Winwood Heights residents. I thought about Mo, who’s in the hospital, and pictured her smiling face. This lowered my spirits a little. There were no people about in there either. I went back out into the Winwood lobby, and got in the elevator, going up to the rooftop level and the amazingly warm, snug social area. I took a picture in the lift as it went up. It was heartwarming to see the facilities provided for the extra-care residents. They also have a podiatrist on-site visits as well.

The elevator had a voice alert messager that is loud enough for most people to hear. The mechanics are silent when the lift moves, no shuddering and scraping noises like Woodthorpe Courts lifts either. As I exited the lift, into the wonderful Sky Lounge, I took this photo. It really is a delightful autonomous environment and comfortable area to visit. Not that anyone was in there again. It was so clean and attractive; but abandoned, unwanted and ignored by those it was built for. I have only seen two people, at the same time, on all my six visits since it was opened. Then, I remembered what time of year it was, I’m quick sometimes. Hehe! I moved towards the press-button exit door, but I diverted to take a snap of Woodthorpe Court through the window first.

A lot of the gang will be visiting family, or away on holiday, so there is little chance of seeing anyone in Winwood or Woodthorpe Court today. But I still hope to get a little nattering in if possible. I moved out into the drizzle on the Rooftop Terrace and took piccies of the still blocked and leaking drains on the roof.

I pictured Winchester Court at the end of the complex. By then, the rain was soaking into my coat, so I returned back inside out of the light, soak-you-through rain.

The ailments were being good to me, as I went down in the warm, non-shuddering, working lift (As opposed to the Woodthorpe lifts, Hahaha!). As the doors opened on the ground floor into the lobby, I exited and took these photographs of the extra-decorated lobby.

I hobbled along the link-passageway towards my beloved Woodthorpe Court, that lies somewhere between the twilight zone and a wormhole slipping through a tear in the fabric of the universal ozone & the spacetime continuum, illusion, delusion, & hallucination-ridden apartment. With its leaking taps, dodgy flushing WC! and finger-trapping metal spring, balcony window openers.

Not a soul was encountered on my lonely little lethargic solo photographicalisationing sojourn! Ah, well! Has the world come to an end? Nowt about it on the internet! Hehehe! Through the swipe door, into the cold foreboding Woodthorpe Court lift lobby.

On the notice board, I saw this poster. The last Tuesday of every month, it seems, that the ILCs (Independent Living Coordinators) will be available, hanging on the noticeboard in the lift lobby (here?), to discuss any issues? Haha!

I observed, that the Christmas tree was no longer at the end of the lift lobby? So I had a poddle around into the entrance lobby in a search for the tree.

Ah, there it was.

Underneath the hanging from the ceiling electric cable, in the back corner of the lobby.

I went to get the lift, and Anne Gyna started giving me a bit of bother.

Up and back to the flat, and for some reason, I felt all-done-in? No reason for this? Mmm!

I got the handwashing done, wrung and hung as the pasties heated up in the oven. I went into the wet room…

The landline light lit and flashed. It was xyrophobia-suffering Brother-in-Law Pete. He complained that I had got things wrong about his B-cell lymphoma cancer. I was admonished for writing 2,500 other people are sufferers, it was 250! He did not want his exclusivity to be questioned and wanted to know why I had got it wrong. I told him I had already written a bit on today’s blog, correcting things. But he was not happy about it! I mentioned how does he always, but every time, call me when I’m having a phoo, shower, shave, sleeping, cooking or on the floor cleaning up when he calls me. I jokingly said; Are you still using the home-made drones before ringing? He laughed maniacally, I heard him spit, then he replied, “Yes, and the clandestine CCTV cameras wot I fitted!” Hahaha!

He dropped his tea, at the same time as I thought I’d left the tap running. I said ‘I’m off to check’ and he’d gone when I got back. I rang back and we had a chinwag.

I got the nosh prepared and served up. Cheesy spud-mash, beetroot, garden peas with demerara sugar and the mini beef pasties.

This went down a treat, despite my battling to stay awake while eating it all. Well, all bar one of the beetroot’s that was hard, like a ball-bearing! An 8/10 Taste-Rating.

I did the washing up and had an INHBBT (I-Needn’t-Have-Bothered-Barely-Trickling) wee-wee. took the medications. Got changed and into the £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, to watch a movie on the TV.

It started, it was crap, I fell asleep, and stayed akip for six hours! Great! No wee-weeing or Procelain calls, no nocturnal nibbling, no noises to wake me up and no dreaming to bother me, as far as I recall! Very appreciated and welcome!

Zzzz!