TFZer in her garden? ♥
Tuesday 13th October 2020
Hebrew: 2020 יום שלישי, 13 באוקטובר
02:55hrs: Well, back to waking and wanting a wee-wee and the Porcelain Throne to be utilised. I just hoped that the rear end evacuation would not also be back to the chronic-pain giving!
I surprised myself at how relatively easily I evacuated the second-hand, £300, c1968, recliner, caught my balance, and off on my way, though rather fumblingly, to the wet-room.
Although oblivious as to how I managed it, I trapped my left wrist, closing the door behind me? Now had it been the right, stroke and Nicodemus’s neurotransmitters affected arm, that would have been understandable. Puzzled! I got what I thought was a tube of Bruise Ease from the bottom tray, and dabbed it on. Hence, the advice graphic above was later done and posted. But soon found out that it was the wood-varnish touch-up tube! Ah, well, nae bother, it cleaned up well afterwards when I cleaned it and used the Germolene. Oy-oy-oy, what a schlemiel! There was much worse to come seconds later!
The innards were back under the control of Constipation Konrad! Argh! Solid! Nothing was moving, although a lot of wind was escaping of its own accord. The utilised the crossword book. But there was so much pain, and my concentration was limited. What seemed like a week later, (but was five minutes perhaps, max), the motion began, and boy, it was grindingly, torturously slow! The blood flowed from Harold’s Haemorrhoids; the style of poo was like Type-Two, lumpy and sausage-like. Resembling hazelnuts squashed together in chocolate, but was more green than brown! Some had even escaped into the PPs, so why did I struggle, so? I’m sure I have not missed any capsule taking!
I was disappointed in the extreme with this pitiably-prolonged, pain in the backside, motion. A smidge frustrated, too. I believed things were coming along well since I started taking the Poo-Softener, Dioctyl. But, of course, my starting on the MacroBid antiseptic… no, I’ll try that again, antibiotic course, for the UTI (Urinary Tract Infection), on Sunday, just might have had some effect… no, affect on the proceedings? This is disheartening whatever has caused this constipation to come back with such venom!
Crap!
I cleaned up and medicated Harold’s area, and off to the kitchenette. Where I mixed a sachet of Macrogol in warm water, and got it down me, taking the other medications as well. I’m getting a bit confused over this new regime and added medications to take. The poo capsules two a day, but the bladder ones are four a day, which takes some remembering. But I got it right, I reckon. A few guzzles of the paltriest, weakest ant-acid medicine I’ve ever used, Peptac, as rumblings and a few twinges were coming from Duodenal Donald. 
Then started the Health Checks.
The Boots BP sphygmomanometer reading was another let-down. The SYS was back up high again, after going down for one day, to 153. Spurgledamnations!
The stick thermometer reading was 33.3°c. I took a photo of the morning view from the window, with the Nikon camera, on Aperture Priority setting. I thought it came out well, for once, a lot closer to what the eyes perceive. Smug-Mode-Entered! Haha!
I got the drink of spring water to have a guzzle and take the extra Ramprilol. Nicodemus’s neurotransmitters went down, encouraging me to drop the bottle cap and the tablet. I ended up on the floor with the torch and picker-upperer, and had a ball trying to get back upright again… 
Then dropped the damned capsule again! Int life good when you get older?
I made myself breakfast with a difference. Marmite bread thins, red and yellow tomatoes, that were, Very nice!
I made a brew of Thompsons Punjana, then made a start to updating the Monday blog. Which, in between a few, no, many wee-wees, I got finished about three hours later. Then posted it off and emailed the link, Pinteresting some pictures and:
Well, fancy that! Nacklesburies! I made up some bags ow waste while I waited again for the Liberty-Global Virgin Media internet to come back online. Shicklbalks!
When it did, I got caught up with the Facebooking, then got the Ablutions sorted out. A grand start to the session again, just like yesterday. The problems were mostly in the medicationalisationing department. The blood did floweth, my patience did goeth, and Duodenal Donald’s pains started to riseth!
A few dropsies, (well, a lot really!), and I knock some bits off of the top of the floor cabinet.
However, I thought the ankle-ulcer, pins and plates all looked much better than they did on Monday?
I got the extra sizeable longsleeved t-shirt washed. All done, wrung, and hung. It makes me think of Liberty-Global’s boss, Mr Fries, that phrase does! Grrr!
A text message came through on my My Samsung-Galaxy S20+, Ultra-mobile, 512MB, £1,399 for 128GB storage, with its gargantuan 6.9in display, interrupted only by a hole-punch camera, and ‘Space Zoom 100x’… Well, my 1970 Nokia, Hahaha! It was from Iceland, the store, not the country, like; telling me, that my order was en route!
The Iceland man delivered, and I took a photo of the fodder as I unloaded it from the carriers, and later, the SD card had no trace of it! Sob!
I made a Morrison order for Thursday; the only slot was 18:30 > 19:30hrs! So, I must stay awake this time! Got some Christmas pressies ordered. And remembered the foil trays.
The problem with this ordering was, Liberty-Global Virgin Media internet – it went down as I was paying for the stuff. Dangitall! I hope things go alright with it.
Then a call to the Porcelain Throne, number two came. Gawd, it was more painful than the last one!
Updated this blog, and then got the nosh warming up, I can’t call it cooking, just Jenny’s yellow tomatoes, a pickled egg, a few boiled spuds, two little potato cakes, and a baked and beef pasty.
So late now, and I was in a state of tiredness that affected even my thoughts. But I still enjoyed this meal. Flavour-Rating, 8/10.
Sweet Morpheous arrived, and off I went into a dream-filled sleep.
I am becoming ever more adept at dropping things in a proper whoopsiedangleploppery sort of way. The repeatedly dropped item dependably takes a bounce that carries it into the nearest available bottomless pit. The “dangle” part can also trigger chain reactions and falling dominoes. As IT doth well report.
Good plops to you, kind Sir!
Hahaha! A fellow sufferer of the Dropsy-Syndrome! Peripheral Neuropathy Pete, Nicodemus’s dying neurotransmitters (for somereason I like typingthat word?), and Dizzy Dennis are my pain protagonists (Is that the right word?)
At least I know what/who to blame. What are your causes me old mucker? Give ’em a name, you’ll feel much betterer then with blaming them, Har-har!
PTDS — post-traumatic dropsy syndrome.
This old mucker has digital senselessness, to coin a phrase. Me fingers are pretty good at getting themselves into hazardous situations, such as confusing the sharp edge of a knife with the dull side. Fortunately, I have not yet tried to push the blade on its sharp side. Did once run a blade along a straightedge and witnessed that blade jumping over the straight edge and cutting my right hand. Also have Renaud’s — a case of frostbite in a chilly (not freezing) room. It takes a good 20 minutes of warm compressors to welcome the blood back into the fingertips. 🙂
Giving them a name, that’s what I need to do — great advice from a world-class name-giver. Thank you, kind Sir! Will start in on that real soon now. 🙂
Har-har! Here is a photographicalisation I found on the Google:
https://i.pinimg.com/originals/7d/55/9d/7d559d8e4509132a844f8b4881027b47.jpg
PTDS — post-traumatic dropsy syndrome, I like it!
I investigated Raynauds, in my bestest Sherlock Holmes fashion. (I asked Mr Google), ‘Raynaud’s is usually triggered by cold temperatures, anxiety or stress. The condition occurs because your blood vessels go into a temporary spasm, which blocks the flow of blood. This causes the affected area to change colour to white, then blue and then red, as the bloodflow returns.’ Was Herr Google correct, Sir?
PTDS is just how to describe the phenomenon, non? My introduction to Raynauds occurred when I used my ungloved hand to wipe snow from a windshield. A total surprise, I found a loo at the grocer and spent 20 minutes with warm water I did.
Herr Google knows a lot of stuff, do he not?
Well, he got that right, Sir! I might test him out with the effects of Peripheral Neuropathy, next, Billum.
Three red cars in the park yesterday, by the way.
Peripheral Neuropathy is something that Mr. MacGoogle knows a tad or two about. I should ask that bloke about that too. To compare notes and stuff. Red cars of three parked in a park, you say by the way? Gone agley?
Ah, that reminds me of what I forgot I was going to say, nine comments ago. (Can’t be helped, sorry)
When I went to the after-stroke physio, on about the sixth week, we all opened up about what happened when each of us had their attack, and a ‘visitor’ jobsworth – a ‘read-it-all out of a book’ type of Health Carer, took notes. I went last, by virtue of where I was sitting at the time; but it is a fact, that not one of the other survivors, knew they’d had a stroke. Leading me to ask; Wy was I the only one who collapsed, bled or leaked from every orifice (eyes, nose, mouth, rear-end, lug-holes and Little Inchy), and really struggled, unable to get up, on all-fours to get to open the door for the paramedics? It ain’t fair!
Same at the hospital when the PN was diagnosed, they arranged a ‘talk’ with other victims. Where not one of them are walking into things, having Nicodemus’s neurotransmitter problems, or have partially lost sight in one eye!
A few moments of your educated brain power to ponder why, might help.
I’ve waffled again haven’t I? Sorry.
I’ll Mr G a visit, Billum.
I don’t want to worry you, but there is currently five red cars, and a van on Chestnut Walk I can see from the balcony.
Not too good today, I gether you’ve gleaned that from my spuriousness sophistrying? Might be spelt wrong that…
The least informed and the least affected are the “experts” who get to make the decisions for the most informed and the most affected, in my experience and ponderation. Lisa is particularly well informed on those experts. No matter how many times she tells a medical professional that she has paradoxical responses to a wide range of medications and procedures, the more are they likely to say “Well that’s nice, but *I* am the professional and prefer to use the same flowchart with all my patients. As if treating everyone the same way is the object. Meanwhile, Dr. Sophist Spurious is probably asking Dr. Google to do the thinking.
Well, it’s betterer that I stop the waffling and consult Google Maps about those five red cars and a van. 🙂 🙂
Oh, dear, Willumski, sounds like over here to a ‘T’, too. Poor Lisa and you and I share a lot of frustrations.
I’ll send her a gentle cuddle though the ether.
I’ll check again when it gets light Sir, for those cunning red vehicles sneakling in. Haaha! Cheerskis.
That door gave you a pretty good bite. Ouch. You need a rhyme or ditty to help you remember your new meds routine.
“Two to poo ew ew ew.
Four to pee wee wee wee.
Mix it up with Macrogol
Nature will be soon to call.”
You got breakfast and dinner. Quite good of you.
Hahaha! I like the ode, Tim.
I’ve just this morning heard (well, read), than nay Health Authorities are stopping the blood nurses calling (The Virus?), and people will have to go to the clinic or hospital for their Warfarin INR blood tests! Argh! A bus and a tram each way, passengers without any facemasks on… Apart from doing me in physically and mentally, this will surely increase the chances of transmitting or getting the ‘Virus’?
Oh, dearie me, I pray they do not do this in Nottingham.
Worried, now!
Hey-ho, though, way to go!
Cheers, Sir.
The dinner pasties, by the way, Timothy, were one beef and one baked bean & cheese, very nice! Jenny-supplied yellow tomatoes, they were excellent! Slurp! Hehehe!