Friday 10th April 2020
03:30hrs: I came back to imitation life, with my body sat on, as opposed to laying on the £300, second-hand, sickeningly beige-coloured rickety recliner, that my xyrophobia-suffering Brother-in-Law Pete broke when he was flat raiding and stealing my valuables while I was in the hospital. (I must remember to ask him for them back, but I might as well talk to the wall) My feet rested on the serving tray on the floor. Crumbs and bits of bread were stuck to my feet, trapped in the folds of my pharaonically-sized stomach folds, and I even fund some in my right ear-hole! What the deuce had I been doing overnight? What a moyshe kapoyer I am!
As some focus, brain usage and limited concentration came back on-line, memories were triggered. I recollected eating the meal and falling asleep with the tray on my knee last night with the prospect of the much-absent sleep dawning, I drifted off… But by gum, I needed it! I got five hours in. Mind you, how long I spent nocturnally wandering and rearranging things in the room, I don’t know.
I took a rather surprisingly ferocious wee-wee. Then off to the wet room with the GPEWWB (Grey-Plastic-Emergency-Wee-Wee-Bucket) to be emptied and cleaned and disinfected. I was caught-out again when I needed to use the Porcelain Throne, having been twice yesterday, and needing another. A painful session, and so bloody! So, more cleaning and sanitising were required.
I decided to leave the cleaning up of the bread crumbs until later, when I could use the hoover, without disturbing any neighbours sleep. To the kitchen.
Notwithstanding Nicodemus’s Neurotransmitters failing a few times, I took the medications, pain gelled poor old Arthur Itis’s knees and Shaking Shoulder Shirley’s scapular. Olive-oiled, the ear holes, sprayed Saccades eyes. The over-the-counter Haemorrhoid cream was used. The nasal spray used, and the Vaseline was applied to my cracked lips. Then, with gritted teeth; I grabbed and squeezed a clump of my sizeable, flabby dominated stomach area, and stuck the Enoxaparin filled hypo. Pushing in the warm, tingling mixture of Enoxaparin – Formula (C26H40N2O36S5)n: Which is metabolised in the liver into low molecular weight species by either or both desulfation and depolymerisation. I wanted to sound clever here and copied this off of the leaflet that was in the box. Of course, I knew all of this before… Hahaha!
Then made a brew of my beloved Thompson Punjana tea. A warm glow came over me, as I remembered getting the new stock, along with some Glengettie in from Amazon yesterday and now have enough to last me for a good while. A gratifying, and almost exhilarating feeling!
I did try to use the Pill-Splitter again on the large 80 mg Atorvastatin boulder… I mean tablet. But just as when I have tried before, the ‘Splitter’ could not cut it, the blade got bent and distorted when I tried to use it. Most disappointing, I had to imbibe the crushed bits of tablet and powder left, by licking my licking and dabbing my finger to get it. Hahaha! So, I now have a tablet-crusher instead of splitter! Hey-ho!
I got on the computer and soon had the Thursday Inchcock Today updated and finished. Thanks, mainly to Nicodemus, Shirley and Shaun all being so remarkably calm?
I made up a template for this post. And went to make a brew and get some caramelised biscuits to nibble and dunk in the Glengettie tea filled mug. I took the pictures below from the unwanted, thick-framed, light & view-blocking, anti-photographer designed new windows that let the rain in.
This mist lingered on for a few more hours. Then as I got back with the brew, I thought I’d do a search for the Coronavirus updates on the web.
I got an odd feeling as I did so, Sister Janet was coughing? I don’t know where this came from, but it concerned me, and it is too early to call her yet. She is not an early bird. I’m getting the shpilkes about this!
I had a look up at the latest figures for the pandemic on Google. They are here on the right-hand side. They make bleak reading.
The fact that the USA has a population of 328.2 million, and the UK a total of 66.27 million, shows that we are being hit a lot worse?
I am well known for my mathematical incompetence, suffering from Athrithobia and numerophobia (although I am not affected by hexakosioihexekontahexaphobia), and am having difficulty in working this out. I’ll have a go at the calculator.
No, it’s just not there. The mind blanks arrive when I try to figure things out numerically. Humph! Back in my school days, I’d have got the cane, several clouts around the head, or both for not being able to get this worked out. I worked my way through the fear, and at one time, in Tesco in Duckworth Square in Derby, where I was cashing up 24 tills, and dealing with the Green Shield Stamps issue, without a problem. Then the stroke arrived, and since then, I have been struggling back with the phobia! Humph!
I waffled on there again, sorry!
I went on the WordPress reader. Then on CorelDraw, but got a lot of bother with the workings of the programme, and gave up. Did some TFZer Facebooking.
♫ I only want to be with you ♫ rang out from the pressed door buzzers. Aha! It was an Amazon delivery. I now have stocks of the wonderful Gengettie and Thompsons Punjana tea, Marmite individual pots, pots of porridge, and the bitter-tasty San Benedetto Clementine juice, to last me hopefully all through the rest of the lockdown (I hope).
I’m getting short of places to store things again in the kitchen. The unused bedroom (Junkroom), is getting over-filled again. But I have teabags, some bleach, toilet rolls, bamboo socks, kitchen towels and preciously, a load of PPs (thanks to my mate Michael) in there now! Only the medications need serious attention now. Jenny helped me again with some antiseptic and corticosteroid cream.
I got on the computer again, CorelDraw is really causing me problems, never mind Nicodemus’s neurotransmitters dying-off, bother me as well! Grumph! Had to give up again.
The current situation with Amazon outstanding orders are, I think:
- Friday: Nasal and eye spray.
- Saturday: Another box of 24 Benedetto Clementine drinks might come as well. I looked up Benedetto, expecting it to be an area of Italy. It came out as Blessed, or Saint Benedict of Nursia (480–547), often called the founder of Western Christian monasticism. I don’t know why I bothered telling you that?
- Sunday: Branston Pickle nibbles – Warfarin-Alert Wristbands
- Tuesday: Medical screw-top pots
- Thursday 16th -20th: Trousers. Both of the last two pairs bought from the market have holes in the pockets, the linings have split open or both! I don’t want to go out after such a long time and get accused of flashing. Hehehe!
I received a call from a pleasant-sounding lady from Direct something or other. NCC, as was the man who called yesterday. I was finding it difficult to hear all of the words spoken. And remembering everything is not easy. I thought I’m written something down about it, but cannot find any note? Reflux Roger, and Stuttering Stephanie, along with Deno deafness, all made things difficult for me.
But the lady was very kind and patient. And I’m sure I did much more of the talking than she did. It was so lovely to talk to someone who listened. I told her my life story almost, in between stuttering, gasping for breath and hiccuping. Hahaha! This was the highlight of the day for me. I gave her my blog name, and she said she’d have a look. No actionable help was needed at the moment with the shopping, I thanked her for calling.
Much more verbiage was bantered and shared, but with the state of my memory, it’s not easy to recall. The most annoying thing is there may have been something important to record. Making me more agravannoyed with myself for losing the note I wrote!
I got the meal sorted out. Nothing like I thought it was going to be earlier on. Algerian tomatoes (Crap!), McCains oven chips (Horrible!), Baxter’s beetroots (Bland!), a cheese lump (lousy, insipid), Buttered bread and smoked ham Dry, tasted aged, the butter was greasy?), A shame, I thought I just might be coming down with a cold, and that has affected my taste-buds? Even the apple was crumbly and floury! Saving grace? The apple pies and the can of the tangy, bitter-tasting clementine juice, I liked them! Flavour rating; 4/0. I didn’t eat anywhere near all of it.
I got washing-up done and fleetingly thought of the possibility of my doing the handwashing. (I didn’t!)
Got settled down in the £300, c1968, sickenly beige-coloured, second-hand, not-working, Broken by my xyrophobia-suffering, chaetophorous, anti-epilation Brother-in-Law Pete. At the same time, he was flat-sitting when I was in the Stroke Ward, and stealing all my valuables). With a bottle of spring water, some yoghourt covered cashew nuts, and the GPEWWB (Grey-Plastic-Emergency-Wee-Wee-Bucket) disinfected and nearby in readiness for later use.
It really was heaven, as the eyelids drooped, with the promise of the rare and resistant sleep, was on its way. But no! I’d forgotten to take the evening medications! Reluctantly, I clambered out of the chair, grabbed the four-pronged stick and hobbled to the medical drawers and got out the medicines. Took the tablets, then, medicines. (No Enoxaparin injections due again now until further notice). Got earholes olive-oiled. Sprayed Saccades-Sandra’s eyes. Nasal sprayed the nose and throat. Phorpain gelled Arthur Itis’s knees. Had a gargle of TCP for the sore throat.
Got the Clobetasone Butyrate cream, and went to the wet room to clean up Little Inchies fungal lesion and applied the cream (I usually do this in the WC room, cause my screams of agony cannot be heard and disturb my neighbours with the door shut). This is the second most painful of my medicalisationing sessions.
Occasionally, the Sock-Glide battles can be just as bad. I don’t know who designed these, but obviously, they did not give a thought to anyone with the shakes or dizzy ailments and might be averse to losing finger ends, blood blisters, stubbed toes, and to having lumps of flesh torn from their legs! It may have been Jack the Ripper, or Dr Harold Shipman?
I freshened up and returned to the uncomfortable old recliner, and settled again.
As per regular nightly, the Thought-Storms began, and during this session. I wondered if I left the tap on in the bathroom or even the sink? It was ghost-like, weary, frustrated Inchcock, who somehow or other, forced his elephantine stomached body up on its feet again and limped to check on the taps, lights, stove etc. top make sure all was safe. I don’t think this is an Obsessive-compulsive disorder OCD. It seems to be from my lack-of-confidence base? There must be a word for it. Anyway, all was okay. I got another bottle of spring water and returned to the, that by now, seems to be laughing at me, recliner. Hahaha!
The lighter nights, crap on the TV, and my unsettled state of mind were all preventing my nodding off! I lay for hours, I even considered counting sheep!
All the tossing about and moving trying to get in a comfortable position to encourage sweet Morpheus to take over my body and mind; must have cracked open Little Inchies fungal lesion! For I felt the warm wet trickle from the lower regions. Again, crying was an option, but anger was a stronger emotion! Why me?
Yet again, I got up, trying to keep calm and not have a tumble or bang into any furniture or door frames, off I poddled, chin-low, bottom lip wobbling and feeling sorry for myself! I got in the wet room and went through the usual dreaded medicationalisationing procedure. The pain didn’t seem so bad this time, that was because the leaf had not had time to harden, I assume. This actually took my Fed-Up-Defcon from2, down top Defcon3! Hehe!
Now, as I was going into the hall, I think I had a bit of good luck! (Yes, it can happen, it did in 1952 as I recall). I caught the right middle toe, stubbed against the bar of the clothes airer – and felt nothing! Obviously, this may be part of the reason that the cleaning and medication of the lesion, was far less painful, Nicodemus’s Neurotransmitters were obviously not working! And this warned me to take extra care when touching anything solid or hard, and not rely on getting any sensation or feedback! Thus, I was going to make a brew of tea, but I stopped my plans. Who knows for sure, nobody, but it may have stopped me getting scolded!
Of course, it did nothing to help me get to sleep! I carefully made my way back to the imagined grinning at me now, recliner. I put the TV on, and to my greatest pleasure, Red Dwarf was just starting! Then I found out another episode was following. No problem with staying awake tonight. Old seen-before ones, of course, but I so enjoyed watching them.
It must have been around 02:00hrs when I had to get up to use the wee-bucket. Accident-free, I got back in the chair and fell asleep! And had a dream-ridden kip for three-hours or so. Every little help’s! It was well-gone 0500hrs by then.
I can get depressed, you know. Humph!