Sunday 29th December 2019
Chichewa: Sabata 29 Disembala 2019
00:00hrs: I woke, and without delay, struggled to get my rhinoceros-like body from the recliner, to get to the Porcelain Throne. Very nearly having a trip over the carpet in my haste, clouting my ankle with the walking stick, but kept my balance with the help of the door frame.
The session was one of the not-so-nice ones. As it has been for the last few days, things moved as soon as I got down on the plastic seat. But, this time, everything stopped part-way. Encouraging further movement, involved a few words like; Eeeya, Asdfghjkl and Argh, with a fair bit of pain! Not messy, a bit bloody, and a system-blocking amount of evacuated product. Phew! I then applied the Corticosteroid Daktacort cream on bleeding Little Inchies fungal lesion, and some Germoloid lotion on the rear-end Harold Haemorrhoids. Washed up and wiped the contact points with antiseptic.
Not a good start! But, at least I didn’t knock anything off of the shelves or cabinets, and no toe-stubbings.
Minutes later, as I was putting on the kettle, the need for another wee-wee arrived, so I used the overnight GPB (Grey-Plastic-Bucket) for a BOBVSL (Blasting-Out-But-Very-Short-Lived) wee. Took the medications and made the brew.
Then, onto the computer to get the updating done of yesterday’s depressing diary. I could sense Dizzy Dennis wanting to give me some bother as I typed, but it may have been Saccades Sandra making things worse? She was also in forces with the neuropathy and autonomic nerves in the fingers, that were playing up and not recognising contact or touch. Not all of the time, just now and then for a few minutes at a time (which was something new). Making typing a hard slog this morning again. So much correctionalisationing to do cost me a lot of time.
I got the blog posted off, then went on the WordPress Reader. I enjoyed a bash at the TFZer Facebooking.
I went to make another mug of tea, noticing how kind Arthur Itis was to me. Got the kettle on, and took two photos from and of the same view, as best I could. I used the light and view-blocking thick window bottom ledge to rest the camera on.
The first one, I took in Night Landscape, and the second in Aperture Priority. I can’t make up my mind which one is the better one. Maybe the Aperture one? But I don’t know. My indecisiveness and wavering vacillations are annoying.
I really must get some more graphics for page headers done on CorelDraw. I got the gone-cold tea replaced, and set to graphicalisationing.
Three hours later, I got just a few done, but I was feeling tired. Josie’s meal to do then as well, that is if she wants it today. She’s not told me she is going out, so I’ll do my Personal Chefing thing again. Tea and bikkies to be nibbled!
Whoops, Porcelain Throne visit first. Another hard, painful session, but no bleeding.
The legs, apart from being back to the pale anaemic-like again, and a little fluid retention, they looked okay.
Back to the Coreldrawing, and spent a few hours more creating January Dedicated day, the same theme for the whole month, but made them up with TFZers and Cyber-mates on each one for a laugh. January is the Alcoholics Detox Month. Hahaha!
I got the oven on a low light for later, and back to the wet room to get the Ablutions sorted. I took the pin’s photo afterwards, and they had a lot more colour than the earlier one did. But then, I’d just had the shower, and the knees had been energetically rubbed with the Phorpain Gel. The light was on too. I’d also taken a sachet of the lemon Macrogol counter-constipation mixture. Rubbed-in Clobetasone and more Daktacort more cream were applied. As for the session, it went amazingly well! A few dropsies and the sock-glide battle was an honourable draw
Plus, I started to do some of the Physio exercises that do not require my bending down. I didn’t want to begin Dizzy Dennis off any worse! I fear the only real Whoopsie happened during the stretch and pull arms-torso lifts. I came back down and clouted the back of my hand on the sink! It made me jump a bit. Grumph! I stopped the physio exercises at this stage! Hehehe! All dressed, and made a cuppa, and on the computer again for a short time.
Just starting on the cooking, and the phone light lit and flashed. It was Sister Jane, who rang to see how I was going. She’d forgotten about my making the dinner for Josie to be delivered at midday each Sunday. Then again, it turned out later, so had Josie! Haha! A quick natter, and back to the cooking, hoping I had not left anything burnable, (faucets) taps running, or heat on that might burn something. I’ll ring her back later to find out what it is I have done wrong, failed to do, or should have done. (There’s always something, with Jane, but she cares, and that’s nice) I’ll ring her back later.
I got back to Josie’s nosh cooking, and then popped to her flat, and asked if she wanted the nosh today. ‘Oh yes, I’m just going in the shower!’ – Me, posh voice adopted: “It will be delivered in about 30-minutes, Modum!” served up. “It’ll only take me five minutes in the shower” she replied. I bowed and curtsied, (I shouldn’t have done that really, started Arthur Itis off in the knees, Tsk!) We both laughed, and I returned to the hovel, cooking and preparing her nosh.
35-minutes later, it was all done and delivered to her door.
I’d added as treats, a can of G&T and Manner lemon wafers. Then a few chocolate coins. But Josie was not answering the door. I went back into my apartment and got the camera to take the above photo. A couple of minutes later, the gal appeared. “I was in the shower!” Ah, well! I explained I’d put too much demerara sugar in the peas, and she had BBQ mackerel and tuna with mayonnaise, and the cheesy potatoes had been made with white cheddar, butter and sea salt, and I thought it tasted nice. She said there was too much. I suggested she just ate what she fancied, I can take any back and get rid of it for you.
She handed me an Asda tray of green salad, I thanked her very much and took it away for later consumption. Hehe! We parted, but I fear her meal by then, was not going to be warm enough. Fingers crossed; she enjoys it.
Back and phoned Sister Jane. We had a chinwag and memories were prompted. Christine, her mam and dad, old Mr Holmes, the hell-hole where we lived. But all of what she was saying did not sink in. Thanks to Dizzy Dennis budging his way in, while we were talking. Blown if I can remember what she said she was having for lunch, yet I can recall thinking it sounded good? Can someone analyse that, please?
The potatoes were browned off a bit longer in the oven. I might not be able to cope with ultra-spicy food, but I do like well-browned cheesy spuds.
I had some beef cobs, roast onions, peas beetroot and the extra-crispy cheesy mashed and roast potatoes. The garden peas that had been over-sugared couldn’t all be eaten, but the other things were okay. Gave this a flavour-rating worth 6.5/10. I’d run out of tomatoes, Humph!
I got the pots washed, with the company of Dizzy Dennis in attendance again. The dropsies began, and somehow, the delicate dropped items, like the mug, didn’t break!
I got the handwashing done. Jammie-trews, long sleeve shirt and socks. All done, wrung and hung to start drying.
Took the medications, got a bottle of orange juice made up, and off to 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. The one that 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.
Got the TV on, and intended to watch a film. But weariness, old age, and fatigue allowed me to fall asleep, and much-needed it was too! Unfortunately, this was not to be. First, the door chimes rang out, waking me up. I assume it was Josie, wanting to return the dinner accoutrements. Bless her!
A few minutes later, the landline-light flashed, and the bell rang out. Oh, dearie me! I had to struggle to get the limbs back into coordination, put up with the pain and discomfort, but I got free of the recliner, stood up, trod on the walking stick that had fallen oven and I’d not realised… and by then, the ringing of the phone stopped! I’m not the luckiest of senile old farts, you know! Haha!
By now, getting back to sleep was more laborious than doing a treble-cartwheel blindfolded with a broken leg! Well-pissed-of, I decided to make a brew. Extracting my bulbous wobbly-bellied body from the recliner again, painfully I might add; I went to the kitchen to be met with a beautiful view of the sky outside. I stumbled and fetched the camera to take these two shots of it.
Bootiful, impressive! It made me forget the mishaps for a moment or two.
I didn’t bother making a brew after all but spent a while in awe, looking up at the sky.
Back in the recliner, but would sleep come? Would it ‘eck as! Grumph!