Sunday 3rd May 2020
Scots Gaelic: Didòmhnaich 3 Cèitean 2020
Marie, Australian sex-pot and TFZer!
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!
03:25hrs: I woke after a nightmare-ridden kip. I lay a few moments trying to recall anything about the dreams, but only the fact that they were about my past failures and mistakes came to mind, nothing concrete, no details or facts. 
Then, as the brain slowly engaged gear, yesterday’s memory blanks were pondered over. I decided, that as soon as, well, if, things get back to normal again, I must get in touch with the Vascular Dementia Group, if I can find their details, and mention the increase in the ‘Out of it’ episodes I’m having. I was more worried about it, this time, for some reason. Within seconds, the recently regular need for the Porcelain Throne arrived and distracted my thinking. 
However, the session went well, indeed, much easier than yesterday. Barely any bleeding from the rear end and Little Inchies fungal lesion had not been bleeding at all! Wonder-fabulous! Not as hurtful, and over quicker too! Oh, Yes!
There was a slowness to my thoughts this morning. Not necessarily a bad thing, I think. 
view.
Back to the Porcelain Throne again. Although Arthur Itis was getting a little painful again, I think the knees were looking much better than yesterday. The faces in the patellas had morphed changed. Hehehe! The evacuation was another decent one too! Still, Constipation Conrad drove, but far less bothersome.
I got a wash, and off to the kitchen, to make a brew of Glengettie tea. 
The bottom field was devoid of any tellurians of any type by then. The tea had gone cold! I’d left the hot water tap running, and that was cold! And I felt a right twit then! I’d had the Panasonic camera in my pocket all the time! As scatterbrains, simpletons and schnooks go, I must be in line for some sort of medal or award by now, surely? 
However, after having me holding on to the cupboard to prevent my toppling out of the chair, and thinking how lucky I was, that this didn’t happen while I stood up; within a couple of minutes, all three had departed my body! 
The all-around Hum, suddenly grew in volume again, just like yesterday. Annoying, enough to drive one mad! 
Know-It-Wants-A-Wee-But-Can’t!) version.
Plenty of yobboes about on their bikes and skateboards up and down the road. Many residents coming and going in taxis too. The sunshine was reasonable, a breeze helped. 
I got the one-day out-of-date beef in the oven. And for the next forty minutes or so updated this diary. 
I still do now. 
03:45hrs: A zombie woke instead of me this morning…, Oh no, that was me! Hehehe! As I morphed back into reality; as if to validate this, the need for the Porcelain Throne. Which pressured me, to do battle with my gross, nauseatingly, flabby-stomached body. To free it from the £300, second-hand, near-dilapidated, grungy-beige coloured, c1968, sometimes working, uncomfortable, rickety, rinky-dinked, rattling, rusty, resurrected, reconditioned, recalcitrant, recidivating and rotting-away recliner. The one that bullying xyrophobia-suffering, pools and lottery winner, Brother-in-Law Pete damaged, while he was flat-sitting when I was in the Stroke Ward. He searched for my valuables, which he found and took, (I still haven’t got them all back yet eight-months later), and broke the recliner while Pete was counting the money he was robbing me of. Still, he gave me a lift in his jam-jar from the hospital to the nursing home when the Stroke Ward kicked me out cause they needed the bed. As Pete said, someone had to pay for the petrol that was used. I’m wandering off subject again, sorry.
Off to the wet room, the feet and toes were painful, just as well that Arthur Itis was not in a bad mood, and Dizzy Dennis along with Shaking Shaun were both taking a tea-break I think. The session was enough to take my mind off of the toes – such as the severity of the evacuation. Constipation Conrad was still in control. Taking the rough with the smooth, Little Inchies fungal lesion, and Harold’s Haemorrhoids were not bleeding, so fair enough! 
A sprinkling of rain started after I’d took the sky pictures as if it was trying to keep the rainbow on view. I took three photographs through the bottom of the windows in the balcony around the flat. 
I made another brew and took a Senna tablet. And got a large potato put in the small crock-pot cooking for later. 
I got the nosh prepared and served up. Eating it was a little vague, but I found scribbled notes that I had difficulty in reading later. 
03:25hrs: I stirred into a loose form of pretend-life, and recognised that the need for the Porcelain Throne was somewhat urgent. Without much thought or common sense, I attempted straight away, to remove my overly-stomached torso from the £300 second-hand recliner. 
A hard truth to put into understandable words, but I’ll try my bestest, such a lot of calamities came within seconds of each other. 
Off to take the medications and make a brew, and the letter that arrived last night was perused. 
Then, I realised I had not used the Cif 100% mould remover, I’d used Cif 100% Oven & Grill Remover! 
I made a brew and had a look outside. Some dogs walking their owners were about, so I got the camera to try and take a few shots. The dogs were a bit too lively for me to catch a photo of them with their owners.
As I checked on the potatoes in the slow-cooker, the intercom burst into life. It was the Amazon delivery of black bags and the electric tin (can) opener. I pointed rolled a can of G&T to the chap, and he was very pleased with it, and the genuine thanks I gave him. 
Having got the peas in the saucepan, I set about making up some black bags. The roll of sacks in my hand in this picture contained 200! 
Back up to get the nosh sorted. Very tasty. Flavour rating of 8.8/10, the potatoes that the Government had kindly given me in the food parcel, were excellent, slow-cooked with a drop of balsamic and malt vinegar added. The flavour soaked in well with using the crock-pot to sort of marinating.