Sunday 3rd May 2020

Scots Gaelic: Didòmhnaich 3 Cèitean 2020

03:45hrs: I stirred into an unwilling simulation of life, and immediately the wee-wee demands arrived. This time, I was careful in my manipulations at getting out of the £300, second-hand, near-dilapidated, gungy-beige coloured, c1968, sometimes working recliner. That’s the uncomfortable, rickety, rinky-dinked, rattling, rusty, resurrected, reconditioned, recalcitrant, recidivating and rotting-away recliner. That xyrophobia-suffering, chaetophorous, anti-epilation Brother-in-Law Pete damaged, while he was flat-sitting when I was in the Stroke Ward. And he fitted new CCTC cameras, then searched for my valuables, which he found and took. (I still haven’t got all of the money back yet, nine-months later).

I avoided any Accifauxpas or Whoopsiedangleplops guilefully, I thought. Off I limped to the wet room, and still managed to arrive in plenty of time. Smug-Mode-Adopted! The action was again swift and rapid, perhaps a more difficult evacuation, but far less hurtful, which pleased me. Little Inchies fungal lesion had been bleeding overnight, so a clean and medicating session was needed. (Always a painful, tender and delicate job, Tsk!)

New PP’s, a wash of the hands, that encapsulated my dropping the soap at least three times! Yes, Nicodemus’s Neurotransmitters were playing up a tad already. This didn’t bode well for any physical tasks, making the meals or decent typing for today. But, you never know with my ailments, many come and go at their leisure for varying lengths of time. The important thing, was no Dizzy Dennis, Saccades Sandra, Anne Gyna, Reflux Roger, Shuddering Shoulders Shirley, Toothache Tim, Earache Eric, or Memory blanks had been of any bother, yet. Even Arthur Itis and Duodenal Donald were only playing at it this morning. The toes and feet were, of course, making up for the absence of effort from their fellow ailments. Hahaha! 

To the kitchen, took the medications, and made a brew.

Got the computer on with a degree of assiduity and diligence. Then got on with the updating of the Saturday diary. Despite Nicodemus’s problems, I pressed on and got it completed. Emailed the links. Put some bits on Pinterest. Then, I went on the WordPress Reader section. Next, I read the comments, and one from Tim Price from New Mexico, made me laugh out loud. He’d made a parody of my mentioning a stand-alone wee-wee in Friday’s blog. I’ll show it here, it was hilarious for me! Hehehe! 

It goes to Green Day’s tune “Boulevard of Broken Dreams”

“In the Wet Room of Broken Wees”

I’m standing on my feet
In the wet room of broken wees
Although I never sleep
I’m in the Twighlight Zone
And I wee-wee alone

I’m standing at the throne
Trying to wee-wee but I can’t go
The is some broken wind
I’m locked down and I wee-wee alone

I’m standing on my feet
In the wet room of broken wees
Although I never sleep
I’m in the Twighlight Zone
And I wee-wee alone

Inchy’s the only one the hangs there with me
Besides my heart, the sock-glide gives me a beating
I wish someone would come in and assist me
Until then I wee-wee alone

I’m standing on my feet
In the wet room of broken wees
Although I never sleep
I’m in the Twighlight Zone
And I wee-wee alone.

I went on Facebooking, The Troll Free Zone, then the Winwood Heights page.

Where I published some photographs of when the nightmare upgrading was taking place. Also, one from the morning of 20th March 2018, 23:45hrs, when I opened the curtain to see a pigeon asleep and pooping at the same time on the scaffolding. I didn’t-half scare the poor thing! Har-har!

Then, it was time for another brew, as soon as I’d made the mug of Glengettie tea, the need for the Porcelain Throne came again. Off to the wet room. Where nothing moved, rock-solid! Despite the wind and bubbling innards? Another sign of problems to come?

I fear that when I returned to the kitchen, I had a sudden and mysterious, unexpected attack of psychasthenia. The mind did not function in any way like usual, I was ultra-vague in thought, and my balance went! Although this only lasted for perhaps a minute, it left me with feelings of neurasthenia, and it was disquieting, to say the least. I could not even press the alarm alert button, although I’m now glad I didn’t, for everything came back into logic and vision another minute later. I felt as if I had dreamt the whole thing, and it hadn’t actually happened. Maybe it didn’t? Yes, it did!

I gingerly made another brew, to replace the one that had gone cold. My brain was working well again because I remembered to make and take some Macrogol powder, to tackle Constipation Conrad’s resistance to movement. I took a photo of the sky and the amazingly appealing clouds, although they bode rain for later on.

As I went to close the thick-framed, letting-in-rain, light & view-blocking kitchen window, I thought I heard some weird grinding noise from I knew not where. I took a blind shot of Chestnut walk below, but there were no signs of anything that might have made the sound I heard?

I decided after the mug of tea went cold again, to get the ablutions done. It will be a long job this time. I didn’t shave yesterday, so I need to take extra care not to have any cuts. And the showering time today, I’ll make the weekly deep-medicationalisationing session. Tubes and inserts already readied. I’ll use the time to think about what to do regarding the funny turn I had. But I feel fine now.

Put the computer into sleep mode,  and hobbled off to the wet room. Back in a bit, hopefully. Hehe!

All done, and I am astoundingly, mind-bogglingly amazed! No, I say, No toe-stubbing, No knocking anything off of the shelves, no sock-glide battle (fair enough, I’m still not wearing socks cause of long nails), only two tiny nicks shaving, and only four dropsies. A safety record for ablutionalisationing that will never be beaten, indeed?

I got freshened up and medicated again, and set about making the 71’s nosh. All done and delivered. Then made a start on my meal.

The crispy fish balls in batter with salt & vinegar. Some onions, and mushy peas. I’d forgot to get the bread out of the freezer, so I’ll go without. No chips or potatoes, as I ate a lot of made-to-much, cheesy potatoes, I made for Josie.

Updated this blog a bit, then went to check on the fodder cooking. During which, Dizzy Dennis and Shaking Shoulder Shirley both had a go at me. I got the meal served eventually, turned off the computer and sat there, right arm, shoulder and leg shaking, convulsing and vibrating so much, that if I was wearing false teeth, I might have lost them! Tsk! Not a good day, healthwise!

Got the meal prepped and served up, into the recliner, got the headphones (I’ve taped them up so I can still them, but they are not functioning properly since I sat on them and broke them. Humph). Still, better than nothing. I thought I’d coped well with the preparations and serving, and by the time I was ready to take the tray through, there were many odd bits and sploshes all over the kitchen that will need cleaning up later. Gnash-and-spit!

Another bit of a blank spell. I must have nodded off. I woke up, the TV on, the headphones on the next chair? The tray was amazingly, still balanced on my bulbously bloated stomach and spindly legs, with much fodder still on it.

In the waste bin, was many tissues (no blood on any), the pot of yoghourt, the lemon tart, the unopened can of clementine juice, and the note pad and pen? I couldn’t give a Taste Rating, cause I can’t remember eating it. Not that I ate a lot of it anyway.

I forced myself up, and precariously wobbled to the kitchen and got the pot washing done. I noticed that all the saucepans and cutlery from cooking had already been washed and on the drainer. The messes on the floor from the earlier Nicodemus-controlled dropsies had not been cleaned up. I think I felt confused, yet disinterested. 

I finished the pots, retrieved the full can of clementine juice and pen from the waste bin (the notepad was ruined, wet and unreadable, so I left that).

I settled in the chair again and pondered over just what had been going on. Why had I not eaten much? (Ageusia?) Why throw the full can of clementine juice, the full pot of yoghourt, and pen and pad away? Why? How? When?

It’s been a mentally-challenging day. Yet apart from feeling tired and drained, I had a certain nippiness of mind at this moment. Then the Thought Storms began, fears, worries, and tension, but without the usual self-blame and criticisms, which was very welcome!

Unanticipatedly, and as never known before, the storm of emotions stopped abruptly. Then the memories came flooding in from the brain, but not the bad ones, only the good and seemingly doctored ones. Good heavens, I like that!