Tuesday 31st March 2020
Lithuanian: 2020 m. Kovo 31, Antradienis
00:35hrs: I felt overjoyed, satiated, contented, proud, confident, pleased, and so happy, I thought I was going to burst! Then I woke up! Tsk! The dream I was having is best not gone into in detail. Suffice to say, I was young, in the company of certain young ladies I knew, way back in the 1960s and had got a sweat on! Nuff Said! The disappointment on realising it was not real, was shattering to my confidence and morale!
Soon after my re-emergence into mock-life, the regular summoning to the Porcelain Throne arrived. I battled to free my grossly overweight stomach burdened body from the £300, second-hand, c1968, not operational (broke!), sickly-beige-coloured, rickety recliner. Grabbed the four-pronged walking stick, caught my balance, and limped to the wet room. Taking the camera with me, in case the legs had morphed again and needed to be recorded. Hehe!
Oh, dearie me! What a different session that was!
As per usual it started with my just getting there in time, but things needed some input from me to get moving… “Eurgh! Argh! Oooh! I got things flowing, and it did the stopping again part-way, and needing even more painful pushing to finish it off.
By the time of the final ‘Plop’, I was ready to go back to sleep again and recover from the almost exhausting evacuation! Harold’s Haemorrhoids bled, but far less than of late. Little Inchies fungal lesion had leaked a bit, and I had to go sparingly with the last tube of Care cream. Cleaned up and medicated things.
When I got on the computer later, I found this picture I’d taken. Yet I cannot recall taking the camera out of the pocket? Another of the mysteries of 72 Woodthorpe Court, illusions, delusions, hallucinations, infestations, Whoopsiedangleplops, Accifauxpas and manic machinations that thrive here freely, and are so bountiful?
To the kitchen, and I could ‘feel’ Harold’s Haemorrhoids stinging with each hobbled step! Took the medications, made a brew, and felt as if I’d just been ten-rounds with Henry Cooper, instead of just going to the toilet!
Got on the computer and got the updating finished for the Monday post. And with little hassle from Nicodemus’s Neurotransmitters, Shaking-Shoulder-Shirley or Dizzy Dennis! So I got the job done in a reasonable time. Posted it off and sent Emails.
I went to make another brew, and as I considered whether or not to take another Codeine 30g to ease Harold’s Haemorrhoids stinging, I decided to do some handwashing. Only a long-sleeved t-shirt and pair of socks, got the done, wrung and hung. Took the tablet, made the tea and returned to the computer.
I had to make up a template for this blog, so I did. Hehe! Got it started up to here and went on the WordPress Reader. The stomach started kicking and rumbling, oh dearie me! It stayed toying with me for hours!
For a while, I don’t know why, but the eroteme would not show when pressed on the keyboard? See, it’s back now! Anyone else had this problem, and can help me, please?
I went on the TFZer Facebooking. A good few hours spent there.
Went on CorelDraw to do some graphics for the templates. Not got long left, then the ablutions will have to be suffered… I mean done! The phlebotomy nurse is due this morning.
I make two more waste black-bags up, and took them with the others to the chute and deposited them all down the shaft. No signs of anyone about.
Back to the flat.
Well, off to the wet room, to do the ablutions and have another fight with the sock-glide.
Back soon, I hope! I’m back! Ablutionalisationing Report: Dropsies; eight. That’s it! Great! The sock-glide battle was made more accessible, by my putting on some more fuller, shorter socks, that I wouldn’t use if I was going out anywhere. (Cunning!) Apart from the Clopidogrel, in the form of bruises, that was coming back on the pins (legs), all was good! ☑
The stomach ache has returned again, but the shakes seem less frequent now.
Made a brew of Glengettie tea, and back on the computer. Jenny rang, bless her cotton socks, to see if I wanted ordinary tomatoes in place of some not available. I said, yes please, and thanked her.
Seconds later the phone rang again, it was some con-artist Hustler trying to tell me I had a severe problem with my BT Internet connection. I suggested they go forth and multiply, in those exact words!
Moments later, Sister Jane rang, then while talking to her, I heard a distant sound of what seemed like a mobile phone ringing. But it wasn’t mine, that was on the desk in front of me? I was puzzled and told Jane I’ll check the door in case the tune on the bell had changed itself again. Good job I did too! It was the intercom ringing, the Phlebotomy nurse had arrived. I explained to Jane, said ring back later.
Innit odd, all seemed to come at the same time. With my talking to Jane, I could easily have not heard the intercom and missed the nurse again! The angel of mercy arrived, came in and took my blood. Pleasant gal, she’s been before and was not phased by my impromptu rendition of a dance. A sort of fusion between the Hokey Cokey and the Locomotion, as my right leg burst into a Neuropathic Schuhplattler Waltz! But it was only a short one, and within a minute or so, it was all over. Leaving me with a painfully twisted right patella! Ah, well! Gave her a choice of G&Ts as a thank you.
After she had shot-off on her rounds, I made a brew of Thompsons Punjana tea, and back to the computer to try and get some graphics done again.
Sure enough, the mobile chirped into life! It was a message, from Hauptbereitschaftsleiteress and Pole Dancer of Thursday evenings, Warden Deana. Advising us that a mobile shop will be calling at the flats tomorrow (Wednesday) at 12:00hrs, so if we need anything, we can use it. Which is a controversial idea, for me, I mean. Unless he takes credit-cards. I’m low on real money, and can’t work out how to solve the problem. The only thing I can think of is going to an ATM. Which I do not want to do. If I’ve got to isolate… Oh, confusion reigns within my muddled and puddled brain! Which, of course, is usual. Hehehe!
I was getting tired and weary now. But, still had to get some graphics made up. Oh, can call Jane back! I’ll do that now.
I rang and found she was out shopping at the Co-op on Central Avenue. Lots of people were in there, walking hand in hand, women with children running all around. And here’s me, afraid to go to the cash-point to get some money! Jane passed on her thanks to Jenny for her help towards me.
The latest UK Coronavirus update looked bleak. There is a larger number in Nottinghamshire and Derbyshire. Oh, dear!
At last, I got on CorelDraw. Didn’t get far, the doorbells chimes rang out. No rest is there? Haha! It was Steve the caretaker. The girls from the Social kitchen had read this blog and sent up a pack of cherry tomatoes for me. I’d not got my hearing aids in, so did not catch the name of the lady, if indeed it was mentioned. Kindness cheered me up, and I sent back my thanks. On the floor were two letters that had been delivered, our caretaker picked them up for me, and removed the prescriptions off of the floor onto the trolley guide tray for me. Thank you!
One piece of mail was a load of can-we-sell-you bumph, the other confirmation of my rent being paid at the new increased rate.
So tired, gave up and sorted the nosh. Polish pork knuckle OODate, but still it tasted okay to me. Beans with hickory, and chips in the oven.
Also, as well as, I took something of a rarity today; a wee-wee! But it as a good one, of the TTSLTATO (Torrential-Throughout-Stopped-Like-Turning -A-Tap-Off) mode.
I came across a tin of Polish chicken ham in the tea cupboard. I was overjoyed at this find. I had the nouse to check the date on the tin. 15th of December, this year. (I thought at the time!)
Finished of this blog up to here, but let the beans burn and chips over-cooked! Humph! But this did not stop the pleasure in the deglutition of the meal. The pork knuckle was so delicious tasting! The beans seasoned just right! The chips were crispy! And the mini-tomatoes, donated by a kind lady resident tomatoes were excellent! The Jenny-supplied apple rounded off a treat of a feast. Flavour-rating: 9.25/10!
Contented, but tired, I washed the pots. Unfortunately, Nicodemus’s Neurotransmitters, cause me to drop the brown milk jug. R.I.P. Tsk! As I cleared up the mess, I pondered on whether I should go to the mobile shop tomorrow. I’ll ask Jen for some advice methinks.
The next hour or so was spent watching some TV, it didn’t matter what was on. Hoping to attain some degree of sleep. I usually fall off to kip when the adverts come on. Which I did, but got woken up four times!
Just got off, blissfully to sleep, and the landline flashed. It was the Haemostasis, TV (Thread Vein) and DVT (Deep Vein Thrombosis) Warfarin Anticoagulation Clinic at the Nottingham City Hospital. (I love that title!) I had difficulties in hearing what the nurse said, but got the message eventually. She asked many questions about my health and any changes to life-style or eating. I answered as well and honestly as I could. Told her about Haemorrhoid Henry and Little Incies fungal lesion bleeding a lot. I told her I’d not long taken the night doses. She gave me the new doses: Wed, 0 – Thur, 2 – Fri, 2½, Sat 2, Sun, 2, Mon 2 – next blood test on Tuesday. (I’ve written it down hear in case I forget, and I can look back – Cunning eh?)
Back in the £300, second-hand recliner, and nodded off…
The landline lit and rang again! It was the Doctors surgery with the new Warfarin doses for me. I explained about the Haemostasis, TV (Thread Vein) and DVT (Deep Vein Thrombosis) Warfarin Anticoagulation Clinic at the Nottingham City Hospital (I really do like that title!), had given me the details earlier. She asked me some questions, but I was half-asleep and cannot recall what was asked.
Back in the uncomfortable, £300, second-hand, recliner, and nodded off…
I was dreaming I think, about being chased by toilet rolls with legs, and the mobile phone flashed and shook! It was a pre-recorded message. I think it was from the Diabetes Health Education ignorant Ingeus scumbags from Birmingham. Not that this matters really, because I couldn’t understand a word of what was being read to me!
Back in the grungy-beige-coloured, none-working, c1968 recliner, and nodded off. Now getting asleep again was becoming a problem. Eventually, I nodded off…
A few minutes later, as I think I was about to nod off, the door chimes rang out their version of Dusty Springfield’s tune, “I only want to be with you”… Oh, dearie me! Will it never end! Still, it showed that someone cares. Hehehe!
I rose up and out of the £300, second-hand, c1968, recliner, stubbed my toe, knocked the bottle of spring water off of the Ottoman, got some trousers and slippers on, grabbed the stick, and made my way to the door ASAP. I got there, and gingerly open the door ajar; No one there! I presumed whoever it was, had thought I wasn’t in, it took me that long to get to the door! No notes or anything had been left. Had it been Jenny, being the logical person she is, a note of some sort would have been left or posted.
Ah, the Mysteries of my beloved Woodthorpe Court, that lies somewhere between the twilight zone and a wormhole slipping through a tear in the fabric of space & the spacetime continuum. With illusion, delusion, & hallucination, so rife!
Back inside, and cleared up the mess I’d made escaping from the recliner, trousers off, and the toe Vaselined, and back in the recliner.
By then my getting back to sleep was not an option that was available to me. The mind was confused but sedulously active! The Thought-Storming started; Will I ever get some cash to use? Who was it at the door? Who was it sending me a recorded message? Who sent me the tomatoes? Will, I ever wee-wee again? The stubbed toe is stinging! on and on the thoughts pestered me.
Eventually, I got the writing pad and noted down all the interruption to my rest. (Hence the detailed list above)
The TV was left on, nothing worth watching, and it reminded me of how late it was getting, gone midnight now! But, I’d lost the TV remote to turn it off in the painful fiasco of getting up and injured, getting to the door. Grungle-Grumps, Spittling-Splurging-Sparrowhawks, and Knackernuts!
I took some photos of the bruised legs for some reason. I can’t remember why.
I suppose I could say, ♫ Fings ain’t wot they used to be ♫ Humph!