Thursday 23rd April 2020

Norwegian: Torsdag 23 April 2020

04:00hrs: Woke up wanting a wee-wee. Staggered up to my feet, and over to the bucket, took a WUT (Weak-Unwilling-Trickling) wee-wee. It took me a while, unwilling to start and pass as it was, it also seemed reluctant to stop as well.

This gave me time to assess the ailments and plans of things to get done. In the forefront of thoughts was the getting through to the Zoom site. But having got a membership yesterday, I thought it would be okay this time. Duodenal Donald and Anne Gyna were seemingly the worsed of my attackers this morning, both on form and getting worse as the day went on. Unfortunately, this caused my usual old man’s grumpiness to turn to an annoying niggly grumpiness,  that was not doing a lot to help me cope with Donald and Anne Gyna, and a sport of resentment at my condition, helped the darkness to take over.

As I walked with the single walking stick to the kitchen, some letters at the front door caught my attention. I investigated. I opened Corona Virus one, but there were five A4 pages of things, instructions, etc. I mustn’t read and digest all the much-repeated guidelines. About the virus and lock-down. I’ll get it digested when I get the time.

The Anticoagulation Haemostasis Deep-Vein Arterial Thrombosis Clinic next. The Warfarin result, shown it down a tad at 2.4 this time. The next blood test is due not until Tue 15th May, in three weeks time. So, no Nurses to visit me for a while, this didn’t help my blackness.

The last letter was from Ingeus, ‘Preparing You, for a healthier you.’ Huh!

The mushrooms were put in the slow cooker on a low setting.

I got on the computer, was busying away twixt CorelDraw graphics and Wordressing updating the Wednesday post for many hours. Then Pinterested and Facebooked some photos. Emailed the link. Then off to get the Ablutions done.

I had to hurry along a bit, as I was scared of missing the log-on time for the Ingeus, Zoom session. The legs looked a little pale, a contrast to how I felt, black and depressed, but couldn’t help it – it just persisted.

The dropsies during the ablutioning session were not overly too many. But getting freshened up and medicated, brought much aggravation and frustration to me! I knocked a lot of things off of the floor cabinet and proceeded to take some skin off of my knuckles, bang my head a few times, and dropped the picker-upperer while trying to retrieve the items. Ashamedly, I was getting angrier with myself, and more wound-up all the time! Duodenal Donald was getting annoyed with me, as well! The sorting things out took far too long, and I was in a-right pent-up and repressed mood, now! I got half-dressed and rushed to the computer with only minutes to spare.

I was in the middle of trying to log on Zoom when Sister Jane rang. I explained the state I was in and promised to ring back later.

I got through to my appropriate page, and I thought things were going well. Hahaha, Idiot!

I put in the password as sent me by Ingeus and saved, with almost semi-confidence, I thought this is it, I’m getting online at last. Pillock!

The password was rejected, and I was totally lost now. So I came out of Zoom altogether and tried again. I couldn’t get on Zoom at all after that!

I sat there wondering what to try next, or if there was anything I could do at all! My depression deepened. Duodenal Donald got as bad as I have ever suffered, Anne Gyna continued to stab all over my upper torso. Dizzy Dennis put his bit in as well. My finding of words is not usually a problem for me, even if I can’t remember how to spell them and have to look the word up on Word Hippo. But how I felt at this moment could not be described, other than low and black.

This did not last for too long, mind. Somehow or other, after a period of self-analysis, and self-criticism, I fought off much of the blackness. By resigning to the fact that I no longer wanted to be put through the torment of Ingeus’s lack of support or cold responses, and the vagaries of the Zoom sight. Obviously, I am never going to master it, so why put myself through all the worry about it. I shall not even bother trying again. Thus, freeing myself a little, in the mind.

Of course, when the anti-empathetic staff call me, and they will, no doubt, I shall try not to listen to their useless read from a bit of some book advice or recommendations any more, and just tell them I am not up to trying anymore. If this causes diabetes to croak me out early, so be it. Anyway, the Coronavirus or any one of other my ailments can whip me away at any time.

I do not need this hassle, cannot cope with it.  I can get myself all muddled up on my own, thank you. And Duodenal Donald and Ann Gyna are not easing off any, and now as I type this, Toothache Tim is kicking off again.

Thankfully, and I can’t figure out why, but Nicodemus’s Neuroltramitters, Hernia Harry, Reflux Roger, Rheumatoid Arthur Itis, Saccades Sandra, Trotsky Terence, Clopidogrel Clive, Thrombophlebitis-Fred, Shaking Shaun, and Peripheral Pete, Haemorrhoid Harold, Back-Pain Brenda and Impetigo-Imogen, each and every one of them, are in a good mood with me this morning! A united front, against the blackness.

I’ve no idea if my decision, or the very fact that I made a decision helped, but the blackness got easier, lighter to cope with. It was so late now, I planned the meal of the day and made a brew.

Looking out at the sky, brought and nourished my nephelococcygia and nephology to the fore. I could see so many things shaped in the clouds in each photograph too. I wonder, now I’ve cheered up a bit; can anyone can see the ghost, angel?

I looked into what would be a good nosh menu. I moved the mushrooms from the slow cooker to the saucepan and put some petit pois in, to cook for three minutes.

I managed to knock the jug and lid of the saucepan off of the counter onto the floor. It was easy to do for me, no bother Hehehe! The saucepan lid now has a dent in it. But I was not bothered in the slightest! I was coming out of a depression, by a planned route, and things were feeling so much easier now. A smug-mode was adopted!

Back to the junk room mark one, and rang Sister Jane back. Stuttering Stephanie intervened, and Reflux Roger too. Jane told me she had read Tim Price’s comment,  helping with the Zoom situation. I must have a look ASAP. But nae bother now, after a nattering session, I got on with getting some more computerisationing done. Still feeling even betterer!

I stopped for a while to study the letter from the Doctors in depth. I have been identified as someone who is at severe risk of severe illness if I catch Coronavirus. (Still no food parcels though) I am to stay at home for at least 12-weeks from today. No contact with anyone other than health workers who need to see me as a part of my healthcare.

They gave a number to ring, to get a Government support officer with my details. But my NHS number was repeatedly not recognised after several tries. (By gum, I’ve died, and no one told me!) Hahaha!

I rang Warden Deana to ask if she could assist, but it was too late, and she’d gone and couldn’t respond to the call. I left a message, which she will get in the morning, I imagine unless she is working here on Friday. So, I rang another number, Nottingham City Council, from the Doctors letter to ask for advice.

The music was excellent when I got on the Council number waiting list. Twenty minutes later, after a repeated recorded message from someone, I couldn’t understand what the recorded said at first. But after about the fifteenth time it was played as I waited, I worked out it was telling me I had to registered to vote. When the lady answered, and quizzed me on my details, she said she would forward it to the Government number.

Still, I was not getting depressed again, things looked good.

I added some stuff to the Morrison order for three or four weeks time. Then tried an Iceland order, but it was no go. No slots were available.

I could see through the windows of the balcony, I had a good few flies of some sort in there? I got the camera and ventured in to take some photos and investigate what they were. Curious!

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Off to the kitchen again. I made sure I had some and knew where it was stored, Maple Syrup to flavour the plain yoghourt with for later. I turned of the mushroom and peas heat.

Checked in the refrigerator to ensure the bacon was in there. Made jolly nice brew of tea, took some of the weak, insipid Peptac medicine, and then the evening tablets, and olive oiled the eardrums.

A quick check to make sure I can open the plain yoghourt lid. I’m not sure as it happens, but I think I should be able to master it. At least I hope I can. Hehe!

Well, it’s now four hours beyond my usual head-down time.

The sun is still out, and at last, I spotted a dog and owner outside, Haha! This mutt had the beating if its owner. As much as the bloke tried to rush the old dog along, it wasn’t having any of it. I fell in love with it!

Bless him or her!

I got the sweet potato fritters cooking in the oven.

Then did a search for the latest Coronavirus results in Nottingham, the Country and for the East Midlands. Nottingham City seems to be doing better than many other areas.

I’m shattered now, all done in. But feeling a lot better now.

I had a look at the advice from Tim Price on the terribly convoluted, to me, Zoom site. But it wasn’t there?

From nowhere. Duodenal Donald burst forth with the most agonising stabbing and sharp, aching, pains. Come think of it, it was most likely in conjunction with Anne Gyna. I mused over whether I should be eating the sweet potato fritters or not, in my condition?

But my gluttony, allotriophagy, coenaculous, and phagomania won the day. I got the meal served up on the big blue oblong plastic plate that Lyzzi in America sent to me when I moved into the flat. ♥ A right feast it turned out to be, as well. 9/10 for the taste! Distressingly, this is the last of the sweet potato fritters for three weeks, when the next delivery is available from Morrisons. I just hope they have some in stock at the time!

Oh, the yoghourt was very thin and tasteless, but with a drop of the Maple Syrup mixed in, it was passable.

However, there was a nagging sense that Duodenal Donald was going to go on one of his rampages. No reasons as such, just that he had been more active today than for many a month. The uncomfortable sensation of positive expectancy lingered!

Got the pots washed and had another review of the Sherringham Park Medical Practise instructions.

I phoned Sister Jane, to ask her to send me a copy of Tim Price’s comment on Zoom, but a connection was impossible, the line kept going dead after I’d dialled the number?

Maybe, with the millions of folks at home, there was more of a demand for the lines?

I fetched a bottle of the spring water with added orange cordial added. I took this snap of the evening sky. As Duodenal Donald kicked off again. Gruelling-Gromble-Garblisations!

By the time I’d mounted the £300, second-hand, c1968, sickeningly beige-coloured, none-working, frayed, rickety, ready-for-recycling, rinky-dinked, rattling, rusty, resurrected, reconditioned, recalcitrant, recidivating and rotting-away recliner, and settled with the woolly hat pulled down over my eyes. In search of sleep, I realised it was mission impossible! The thought-storming, fretting, Duodenal Donald, and whoever was making the top-knock noisy somewhere, were my nemesis. A sort of retributive justice, for whatever I’d done wrong, and was revenging things with again denying me sleep!

I got the specs on, dismounted the recliner, grabbed the stick and went to fetch a drink of spring water I’d flavoured from the kitchen. After a minute or two failed search for the bottle, it dawned on me that I had taken it through and put it handily on the Ottoman tray earlier! I was so iracundulous with myself! What an Eizel!

Back and settled in the recliner again, went to turn on the TV, but could I find the remote control thingamajig? No! I freed my overly burdened with flab body from the recliner in search of the control stick. After a ferret around I found it on the floor between the chairs. Grabbed Jenny’s ♥ donated picker-upperer stick and retrieved it. Duodenal Donald kicked off again as I settled down once more.

I started to watch a Kitchen Nightmare episode I’d not seen before, in between expelling oohs and argh’s in response to Donald’s refreshed activities. At the first set of adverts, I nodded off into a land of bliss!

I stayed like this (sleeping), for over five hours. It was good!