01:00hrs: I woketh up, and soon realised, the moment I straightened the legs to move, that Rheumatoid Arthur Itis was back with a vengeance! Still, he has been very kind to me lately, now it’s payback time! The need for a wee-wee encouraged me to put up with the pain and remove my over-heavily stomach-burdened body from the second-hand, c1968 recliner. The GPWWB (Grey-Plastic-Wee-Wee-Bucket) was utilised, for a ferocious, vindicative HDTBS (Heavy-Duty-Torrential-But-Short) wee-wee. Again, oddly, stomach pains started after the release?
T’was then that I felt the wet warm trickling on my leg! Little Inchies fungal lesion was bleeding again, but not too much. A cleaning up and medicationalisationing session was carried out in the wet room. It took some time, and was a tad painful, but had to be done. At least the flow was stopped with relative ease this time. Other bonuses were no toe stubbings, walking into doors or walls, knocking anything over, or visits from Shaking Shaun or Dizzy Dennis were suffered.
I didn’t feel too bad at all, even with Arthur Itis’s attention, and then Duodenal Donald joining in. How can I describe it for best? I seemed more resilient and determined not to get depressed or feel sorry for myself this morning. How or why I was in this new-found la-la state of mind, remains a mystery. I anticipate things will change later.
Off to the kitchen, and got the kettle on. I took a blind shot of Chestnut Walk below. It had to be blind, thanks to the new kitchen windows fitted in the upgrading of the flats. That the Coronavirus has now put a stop to. The thick-framed, rain-letting in, light & view-blocking windows, with the ledge that sticks out too far for me to see what is below, Fire engines etc. or see anything to photograph without using the step-ladders, which usually ends up with an Accifauxpas and personal injury! But, still, it came out alright.
I got the computer on and made some comment replies. Then got on with beginning this blog template, as far as here. During which, the rataplan of rumbling from the innards started, at the same time as the horrendously loud ‘Hum’ increased in volume as well! There’s no peace here!
I then made a start on updating the wearisome Wednesday blog. I don’t think I meant wearisome? Ah, a belated call to the Porcelain Throne, so off to the wet room.
Well, that was an odd session. It needed a little pushing, and the plop-plopping started, stopped, then it started again. The room, (Possibly the whole flat) filled with a distinctively evil-smelling, mephitic aroma that I could still smell hours later! There was no mess at all, the nugget-shaped evacuation cleared away first pull of the chain. Minimal bleeding from the rear-end and Little Inchies fungal lesion was not leaking at all? I felt a smidge light-headed when I rose from the Throne, a good job I had the four-pronged stick with me. The fragrance seemed to follow me out and into the kitchen. I wondered if the out of use-by-dated meat I ate, might be a cause of this?
I did some more updating, then poddled to the kitchen to start the vegetable preparing and get them into the crock-pot.
I think I got carried away somewhat and made too much! Mushrooms, leeks, red onion and parsnips went in the pot (All my thanks to Jenny, who got them for me ♥). I added some gravy granules, hickory and light soy sauce. No salt needed with the Soy going in. I put it in Auto setting, which brings it the boil, then goes on to the low setting.
Blimey, toothache just came on without any signs or warnings. So bad, I tried to ring the surgery to get booked in – Closed due to Coronavirus! Ah, well! Now I’ll need some extra painkillers. But as I’m not allowed to get out to get cash or shopping in, how to get the Co-codamol is another unsolvable problem for me to contend with. I’ve a supply of paracetamol, but they are not very strong. A bit like me. Hahaha!
I then tried to get an order from Iceland. But, no! I’d hoped doing it earlier in the day might help, but no!
Then I tried for an Ocado one. Unbelievable! The site let me get all excited and make an order up, it took me a while, but I seemed to be going to get some things that I am out off. I was going to ring Jenny and ask if she wanted anything, that way I could pay with the card and settle what I owe her, Great! But no, I pressed the button to carry on, thinking I could add anything later that Jenny might need, and the No Slots Available sign came up! What a Con! Botherations and blasticulisations! Swine!
It cost me no end of time as well! ‘Do they think I’ve got nothing else to do, nowhere to go, no one to visit… Come think of it, I haven’t! Hahaha!
At the moment I got started on preparing the meal, the mind engaged one of its involuntary-unplanned ‘Panic Modes’. It does this now and then. Although it’s been a few months since the last time. This crushed my confidence and willpower. I tried the usual tricks to indurate my mind, and free the tension and worry. It was so discountenancing and ignominious. I can’t truly remember much of the following hours.
Not even taking this photo of the fodder, nor eating it. So, I have no taste rating or comments to make on what it was like. And, how come I took such a decent photo if I was not in control of the brain-box at the time?
I started to return jitteringly, back to my semi-normal state, as I woke up. So I must have fallen asleep in the recliner?
I found the kitchen tops all clean, and for me, tidy. The pots washed. And several hours had passed since having the meal. What took place in between shall remain a mystery.
I decided to get the hand-washing done, and then get a much needed, long-overdue ablutionising session done. But I was questioning everything I did with myself as I went along? The fretting continued in the background. But I was somehow, a little chuffed with myself for deciding to get the handwashing done. Maybe to give me something to concentrate on that was not too complexed, and block out the worrying?
Huh! The best-laid plans of mice and men often go awry – as in this case! There was no hot water! I was not sure if the element had gone again, or I had left the tap running during my ‘blank-spell’. I still can’t find Jenny’s phone number, so Emailed and asked her if her (hot water) had gone off. She kindly emailed back that it was alright in her and Franks apartment. I decided not to worry, but phoned warden Deana just to inform her, got a Not-Available message.
So, no hand-washing, shave, teggies done or showering for me. I changed my plans and got back down in the recliner to watch some TV… and did as well. The earlier kip made getting to sleep properly impossible. I kept dosing for a few minutes and waking up repeatedly.
I think the phone flashed and rang. Unless I dreamt it had? Cause there are no recollections of who it was, or what about? I sensed that other stuff happened, but blown if I can recall what.
When I got off to sleep properly, I think I slept uninterrupted for over six hours! Which was good!
I’d just put this graphic on, and the Vampire Angel arrived! Tsk!
Wednesday 1st April 2020
Greek: Τετάρτη 1 Απριλίου 2020
02:10ish hrs: I woke-up, passed wind from the rear-end. Then struggled to get out of the chair. 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. The £300, second-hand, near-dilapidated, gungy-beige coloured, c1968, sometimes working – but not today, uncomfortable, rickety, ready-for-recycling, rinky-dinked, rattling, resurrected, reconditioned, recalcitrant, recidivating and rotting-away rusty recliner.
I clambered free of the seat, with a sense of urgency, and waggled, with bottom-cheeks clenched as best I could, to the wet room, with the middle right toe still aching from last nights stubbing! But it was a cunning false alarm! I sensed there was product in there, but it wasn’t having any effect on my efforts at encouraging any movement. So, I had a wash and wiped the contact points, and made for the kitchen. Took the medications, made a brew, and back to the computer room.
Where I noticed I had not cleaned up the area around where I knocked stuff over last night in my rushes to get to answer the phone. So a little clean up was performed, not a proper one, cause it was far too early to use the noisy hoover yet, and being as I didn’t have a quiet one, I didn’t. Hehe!
I kept on getting irritation on the arm when I caught it against anything, so had decker at it. A damned pretty artistic bruise had developed. (Clopidogrel or and Accifauxpas?) I thought that this should go with the leg photographs to the Tate gallery!
I got straight on with the WordPress updating on Tuesday’s post. I went to make another brew of Glengettie Gold tea, and when I put the teabag into the wast liner, I got a tiny little cut near the right-hand little fingernail. Which was no bother at all, cause I didn’t feel it? Thus, I knew that Nicodemus’s Neurotransmitter nerves were starting to go on strike, so I took care in which hand to use for which tasks I needed to do – Clever that! Must experience be learnt by?
I had a nosey in the black bag to see what it was I’d nicked myself on, and found it was the lid of the can of Polish meat I’d had and enjoyed so much last teatime. And, oh, dear, I saw the sell-by date on it: The 15th of December – 2016! I did have a look yesterday I think, but must have seen the 15.12, and assumed it was this year? Feel a right Klutz, now! I’m hoping my innards will not be affected? Oh, dear, oh, dear! The meat tasted lovely as well!
Back to the updating. It got harder work, as Nicodemus’s nerve ends kept going AWOL, and so many errors were made. But I got it finished around 05:45hrs.
Then put a few piccies on Pinterest, sent out the Emails, and later on the TFZer Facebooking. It was a struggle, though. I’m not sure if it was Virgin Meda or FAcebook at fault. But things were very variably stuttery and slow. I added some photographs to my albums. It took me as long as it did to update the blog in the first place!
As I was finishing the job, another urgent summing to the Porcelain Throne arrived, in the form of borborygmic gurgling. Experience told me not to ignore it, and off I went to the wet room. “Argh!”, it was a painful, needing encouragement from me, evacuation. Messy, some indeterministic bleeding too. But at least not from Little Inchies fungal lesion. Harold’s Haemorrhoids were not happy, and the stinging began! So, the cleaning up and medicationalisticalisationing was carried out.
I carried with this post up to here. Then went to make a brew of Thompsons Punjana tea, and while the kettle was boiling, I took some shot of the morning view, three from the balcony, and the last one from the unwanted, wet-letting-in, disliked, thick-framed, light & view-blocking new kitchen window, with the Canon camera. I might be the lighting available, but I was pretty pleased with the resulting photos.
It looks so quaint – but I assure you, it ain’t!
All the parked cars of the self-isolators, enforced isolators (like wot I am!), sent home workers etc. was a sad reminder of what we’re all going through. And not a single person spotted in any of the snaps, as far I could see, anyway.
I phoned Sister Jane and her Pete. But, I got a message telling me the call has been put on hold?II tried to ring her back. Got another message saying an ‘active call,’ is preventing the connection. Got her next try, and ‘Sod’s Law’, or ‘Gerry’s luck’, while she was talking and telling me off, the dreaded wet and warm feeling from down below appeared – I asked her to wait for a second, had a look and found the white PP’s were mostly red – the blood was flowing from Little Inchies fungal lesion! I explained and shot off to the wet room.
More toilet roll was used in cleaning things up. Washed the area, and a few Argh’s and Ouches were muttered as I was medicating things. Humph!
Made the brew, and got on CorelDraw to do some graphics for another template.
The usual weariness and fatigue dawned early in the day again.
Got the oven on and nosh started. A chance to use up some dated items from the freezer. The fish fingers in breadcrumbs, substituted for battered ones by Iceland. Not very tasty, I think they may have been made with pond sticklebacks? The well-out-of-date Twiglets, the donated by a resident for me tomatoes were grand. The Halloumi sticks passable, and the beetroot, perfect! Overall, a Taste-Rating of 5/10.
I went to do the washing up, and the landline lit and rang. It was my Angel Jenny, to tell me that the food she had added to her Sainsbury order was coming via Frank to be delivered to me. So kind of her to help me like this.
Especially as I can’t pay her back until I can work out a way of getting some cash from the ATM or somehow.
Minutes later, the doorbell chimed. I got to open it, and two carrier bags had been left outside by Frank. I was picking them up, and Frank’s voice said something to me, I couldn’t tell what he was saying, but thanked him.
As expected, Sainsbury’s were out of stock of some things, some substituted. The caramelised biscuits with Caramel wafers, but at least I can hand them back for Jenny to use, or share later with the Wednesday gang when, if, it ever gets back online. No bread or cobs substituted. As to be expected, in the current climate.
It is lovely that Jenny is helping, but I will not bother her again, until I can find a way to pay what I owe her, including the £25+ for this order. Bless her kind cotton socks. She helps so many people. I’ll manage somehow.
I put the things away, and spotted another tin in the tea cupboard! Of Pork Knuckle, Great! And, it’s still in date, only just, but still. Hehe!
I’ll have a beef cook-in-the-bag in onion gravy tomorrow. Now I have some leeks and parsnips to add to it, thanks to Jenny & Frank.
I got settled down, in hopes of getting some sleep, but the mind was buzzing with problems and not letting me relax. Eventually, much later, I did nod-off… And the landline rang and flashed! It was a lady asking for Angela and Frank. I explained this was the wrong number, but I did not know the telephone digits of Angela and Frank, who live on the top floor. The poor lady sounded so disappointed.
Back down on the £300 second-hand, not-working, uncomfortable rickety recliner, in search of sweet morpheous, which was in no hurry to dawn on me. The Thought-Storms started and stayed with me a while. After the half-asleep prognosticating, I felt so confused, low, incapable, and pathetically self-hating.
I did get off into the land of nod – but had the oddest of dreams, and it was so lucid afterwards, I wrote down bits I could recall on the pad. I’d died if osteofluorosis, and they would not let me into heavens gates. St Peter (In the dream, Housing Patch Manager, Angela Gould), refused to let me in until I had got a disclaimer from Glengettie… I was returned to life and earth to fetch one, and everyone was dead. Bloody Coronavirus, I cursed! And, walked (I was the same age, but all my ailments had gone?), around the shops to get food, but everything had gone mouldy, and not a tin opener to be found anywhere… Suddenly, I was in New York, the same scenario, all dead… As I walked between the abandoned dead body filled vehicles, a rhinoceros came charging at me, stopped short, and licked my face? This beast knocked me down a drain… After that, it all goes vague.
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!
