Monday 13th January 2020

Italiano: Lunedì 13 Gennaio 2020

22:20hrs: I stirred into imitation life instantly panicking! I was being bombarded with worries, concerns and fear all at the same time it seemed.

1. Mo’s funeral to attend, and I hope to enjoy saying my farewells to her, the biggest concern perhaps; for my travelling there in a taxi, means I cannot take the walker with me, and do not feel too confident in using the walking stick.
2. I’m also fearing the affected right leg having a Neuropathic Schuhplattler flailing-about dance.
3. The biggest worry is if I fall asleep at the Service! I have often so regularly nodded-off unintentionally: on buses, hospital and surgery waiting rooms, even stood up one time.
4. Then there’s the Bank Manager who needs to see me! How can I get to the branch as requested? Time is the killer. Tuesday I have the Medicine Team and blood nurse coming to see me.
5. I have no daily prescription medications left at all now. How can I get to the chemist to find out what’s going on?
6. Then there’s the bleeding between my legs. And a list as long as the Magna Carta I want to discuss with the Doctor…

I’m not in good shape mentally at all. I do want anything to disturb or bother my devotions and cheerios for Mo.

Eventually, giving up on finding out what I can do to ease the situation, and ended up deciding I need help. Huh! I’ve been through this before, there is none available. Perhaps the Samaritans can help? Humph!

I was so annoyed at myself for thinking like this. I tried to put things other than getting to Mo’s funeral, get that over and enjoyed, then try to get the other stuff sorted. I might try to ask my ILC Warden Deana if she can help by phoning the Bank, no, that will be too early – Crap! If she can call the chemist for me, and the doctors, I will try to get to see her this morning before the taxi arrives, but time will be tight… everything seems against me! I’m getting even more despondent than when I woke up!

I searched my muddled brain for a glimmer of hope somewhere and realised that if I can’t get the medications, then there’s no point in worrying about the bank. ‘Shudder, going bonkers here!’ HELP!

The need for the Porcelain Throne arrived, blessedly! I forced my way painfully out of the £300 second-hand recliner, Arthur Itis letting me know he was there, got on my feet, grabbed the stick and off to the wet room. Well, a surprisingly acceptable session. No bleeding from the rear end, or Little Inchies fungal lesion, and far less to be evacuated.

I got in the kitchen, but of course, there were no blisters of medications available for me to take. So I rooted through the medical drawer in search of any old tablets to take. I had plenty of Warfarin, some paracetamol and found some old Simvastin and Ramipril that I took, but they were both well out of date, but still, what choice did I have. I found two beta-blockers that were even more out of use-by-date and took one.

Not the best of situations. I’m worried about myself now, Hehehe! Is there any help to be had? HELP!

I took a photo from the kitchen window, almost mechanically. A view showing the lights going down Winchester Street.

I got updating yesterday’s blog. It took a while, cause bothe Saccades Sandra and the fingers and right-side neurotransmitter transmissions to the brain were playing up, and typing was an ever-correcting nightmare. But I got there in the end and posted off the diary.

After going on the WordPress Reader, putting some photos on Pinterest and going on the TFZer Facebook, I needed to return for the third visit to the Porcelain Throne! This time it was so different. A small deposit, much bleeding from Harold Haemorrhoid and Little Inchies Lesion. Not so good! Had a clean-up and medicalisationing session, and made another mug of tea.

Started this post going up to here. Then had to make some graphics up on CorelDraw for later use. I even got a template up ready for tomorrow.

I got the Bank, and Chemist number, just in case for Deana when I go down.

Then the stand-up ablutions tended to. Again there were a good few dropsies, cuts, bleeding and a couple of knocks when the peripheral neuralgia gave me an energetic involuntary performance of a Neuropathic Schuhplattler, flail-about dance! I’d say the Sock-Glide struggle was a draw. A couple of little nicks shaving. After the washing was all done, I set about applying Daktacort, Germoloid, Savlon, Corticosteroid, Varesil creams and Fenbid-Forte gel. Eye-wash, nasal-unblocker and Saccades Sandra spray. Good job I started the scrub-up earlier than usual!

I got the handwashing done and hung to dry. The new long-sleeved brown t-shit was washed for the first time – and it is now black! Still, it is thicker and warmer, although far shorter than the expensive one. Maybe if I’d ordered black shirts, they might have turned brown when I washed them? Hehehe! The delights of Amazon, eh!

I got the taxi monies in the pocket with my super G8 mobile. Treats put in the trolley and made my way down with the hopes of Deana being able to assist me with my problems of the bank, and the prescriptions. Or rather lack-of medications, by phone for me, so I do not mishear, anything said.

I took the black bags to the waste chute on the way down. In the lift, to the ground floor, thought the link passage swipe door and along to the end and the Independent Living Coordinators holding and interrogation office. Dropped off the box and knocked on the door, no answer. So, back up to get my coat on, but I forgot to put my hearing aids in. I decided to go back up again, to drop off the trolley and put in the aids, then. This I did, and down again.

There was no reply to my knocking, so I wandered around a bit in the foyer. Angela and Roy came along, and I nattered to them, and tried the door again, this time, it was answered. I told Pole-Dancer, Warden and ILC of my problems. She asked for more details and gave both the Bank and the Chemist a ring, but neither were answering, too early I suppose. With my going Mo’s funeral, ask if the chemist could leave any medications here in the office. That is if he came out while I was here. But no, the girls would be at other flats on stand-by duty to cover for holidays. Said she’d ring them later. So, I’m none the wiser if I will be getting the medications or I’ll just have to snuff-it, mainly due to having no Bisoprolol (Beta-blockers), Simvastatin or Codeine left. Is no one bothered? Silly question, of course, they aren’t! I’m such a fool!

I was on my way back upstairs, when Gaynor appeared, sorting out the taxi and passengers for the trip to Mo’s Do! She said there was no time to go back for the hearing aids as the mini-cab was due any minute. I must have misread the sign on the board, I thought it was for 09:25hrs. As I said, I’m such a fool! So I stayed down with the others.

We went outside to wait, but the taxi was late coming. We were all under the control of Gaynor ♥. He looked after us and got us safely to the parlour. I took a few pictures while we waited outside.

Coddled by Gaynor (I liked that!) we arrived at the funeral parlour and had timed it to perfection. Many other tenants were in attendance with Mo’s family members.

Once inside, the remembrance started. But I could not hear a single word, but this was good. For it let me cast my mind back to memories I was lucky enough to share with Mo at the flats, without hindrance. A personal thing. Her choice of music was perfect! ‘Elvis, The Wonder of You’. And Abba’s ‘Dancing Queen’. Perfick!

As soon as the whole thing was over, it went so quickly, and I felt good. As we got in the taxi (I was nurtured and fitted in the seat belt by Gaynor), my mind started to fret over the medications again. The talk was light-hearted, with mentions of sadness for Mo’s departure, no not morbidly.

When we arrived back at Winwood Court, the two gals dropped me of (I was assisted out of the taxi by Gaynor!) and shot off to the Sherwood for the drinkies. I had to make my way to the ILCs office to try and find out what had taken place concerning the pharmacist. But no one was in, they had probably gone to the ST Anns block already. My stomach churned a bit with frustration and not knowing if the prescriptions will be coming today or not! Off course, Deana may have tried to ring me, but we all turned off our mobiles for Mo’s service of course. Then again, she (Deana) is a busy gal.

So, I walked back again to the Woodthorpe Court and up into the flat. No messages or notes in the door about anything. My heart sank a little. The inconscient fretting grew stronger, as less and less time would be available for any corrective attempts if the stuff isn’t going to arrive! More natural to just pass-away, in my sleep, I hope!

I got the mobile on charging-up. Then I could not find the longer one of the two wooden walking sticks? I recall using it when I took the first load of black bags to the chute. But surely I would not have walked back without it, I couldn’t have? Could I?

With me having adopted a Panic-Mood-Mode, even then, I have the two other sticks, no need to have fretted. But I found myself worrying, and got the other wooden stick and went to look in the rubbish-chute room, in case I had left it in there, which I knew I wouldn’t have, but still hobbled to check it out! Sanity Alert! (Klaxon sounding in my head)

I could not believe how calm and accepting I felt while I was out, and now I’ve turned back into a pessimist, misanthrope and depressed-worryguts again! I hate myself when this Quick-Change for the worse happens! Have to put up with though, until I hopefully hear something positive from the chemist and or Bank. If I don’t, well, it doesn’t stand thinking about. HELP!

I started up update this blog. The goodbye to Mo and kind help from Gaynor was a pleasure to recall and write about, but when I got back to the anxieties of the unknown factors from the chemist stuff, it was hard, frustrating, error-ridden and depressing.

I put the kettle on to make a brew. And split some hot water over me pouring out the tea. A sort of acceptance of failure, combined with guilt, meant I didn’t even swear or jump really. I may have said to myself; ‘What d’you expect, good luck, help? Idiot!’

I slowly, calmly got the Savlon cream from the wet-room and cold-watered the hand before applying the cream. Then, Shaking Shaun arrived, (As if to teach me a lesson), and I dropped the bloody tube, straight down the toilet, Splosh! It never touched the sides on its way down! I hope this querulous-neurosis, mental or psychological agitation, derangement or whatever, is only temporary! Humph!

I took three pictures of the brew while making the second cuppa, I’ve called the three of them, Nottinghamian’s Close-knit Community.

I called at Josie’s flat to give her the Limoncello I forgot to provide her with Sunday’s meal. But there was no answer, so I returned it to the fridge. Then made a brew again and got on with this post once more.

I’ll nip down to see if Deana is available again, and has any news from the chemists for me. Hello, it’s gone awfully dark outside suddenly. Ah, the rain is drizzling.

Ah-well, off I go. Deana not there. Not answering her mobile. I’ve no chance of getting anything sorted now. Grumble-Sodit-Blast! – Crabs and Grobblecraps!!!

Got the nosh ready. I should have enjoyed it, but with the worry over the medications, I didn’t. Rating 5/0.

Put thing to soak in the bowl. Moved the handwashing, the new ‘was-brown-now-black long-sleeved t-shirt was still wet. Put in on the airer.

I did my best to stay awake, watched telly, any programme that had subtitles, cause I didn’t want to miss hearing the intercom or door in case the medications arrived late. Huh, they didn’t come!

I even got up and had another search around in case I did have another blister-pack week that had fallen behind the stack of drawers. But there was none there. Eventually, I fell asleep, the worries of the day had gone for a while anyway.

A few hours later, the door chimes woke me from my half-sleep, I struggled to my feet and wobbled to answer it. Thinking at last! The tablets had arrived… but no! It was Josie returning her plate tray etc. to me from her Sunday meal. I’d asked her not to in case of waking me, but obviously, the gal had forgotten about this. I’m not sure what we said, being half-awake, but feel we chattered.

Tray and things taken to the kitchen, and I returned to the recliner, I wanted, now I had been woken, to stay awake longer, just in case the medications did arrive. But couldn’t.

They didn’t, of course!