Inchcockski: Sunday 15th November 2020: Another cock-up day. Humph!

Cor! ♥

Sunday 15th November 2020

Hawaiian: Lāpule 15th Nowemapa 2020

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23:50hrs: I stirred into this cruel, hyperbolic-ridden, masquerade called life, with all-consuming guilt you wouldn’t believe! I don’t!

The thought-storming was simply unstoppable, with the torrents of fears, worries, concerns, seemingly fighting each other to get their messages of gloom, to me! I questioned my own sanity at times. Where have all these apprehensions come from, and why?

I tried to elutriate them from my mind, but they turned into a self-blame and shame mode. Even the need of a wee-wee was of minor concern, countering this guilt-ridden state of mind was more important to me at this time.

As the wee-weeing urge, became stronger, I somehow temporarily partly-absterged them from my mind, and struggled, with a foggy-headedness, to force my Arthur Itis-suffering legs and bouncy-flabby-stomached torso out of the c1968 recliner, caught my balance, and found that Metal-Micky (Four-pronged walking stick) was not in reach, at his usual place at the side of the Ottoman?

I was deceived for a few moments, but I had to hobble, stickless to the EOGPB (Essential-Overnight-Grey-Plastic-Bucket) To pass water, and I found Mickey in the corner near the bucket – the well-used, and half-full, the bucket!

Can anyone please tell me: How the heck, can I wake up in the night, unmangle my body from the recliner, get up and catch my balance, go to the bucket, have a wee-wee so many times, and back down again, and have no memory of doing so? Just thought I’d ask!

After using it, I managed to get the bucket to the wet room and cleaned up, disinfected, and back to the front room for future needs and demands. Then made my way to the kitchenette to get the kettle on, and had to hasten back to the wet-room!

The need for Porcelain Throne being the cause of this. And what a change this time!

Having got my body down on the seat and assumed the recommended optimum position by the gastroenterologist Doctor, (try saying that when you’ve had a few, Hehe!) Back straight, feet raised on a box… Nothing happened, the motion started for a few seconds, then it was out with the crossword book time. I happened to look at the clock when I turned after getting the puzzle book – it was five minutes before the motion started again. But by gum, it hurt, but was light lightning, which caused more pain from poor old Harold’s Haemorrhoids! Massive, nae monstrously-massive, one-torpedo size again (perhaps the size of the submarine? Haha!), a sort of wet clunk was heard as I eventually freed it from the innards and back passage,  followed by a sort of gurgling noise?

The relief was lovely, though! But the cistern couldn’t cope with the submarine, and needed two refillings of the tank from the tap, to encourage it to disappear from view! Then the cleaning up that was another long job. The bodily refreshing and ‘Care’ haemorrhoid ointment applying, was something that set a new standard in the level of agony, today! Cor, blimey, I was in a right uncomfortable state. Tsk!

A final wash and sanitising of the contact points and back to the kitchen.

Where yet another new standard was achieved. Oh, yes! But not in pain. Thanks to an ill-timed dual-attack by SSS (Shuddering-Shoulder-Shirley) and BB (Backpain-Brenda). On the right, you’ll see the results of my determined efforts to get some decent photographs were taken, of the view outside. The first one SSS made me catch the flash on switch early as I was about to open the window… But at least it had a reflection that shows the state of me poor old Cartilage Cathy ridden fingers. The second below must be one of my worst ever shots, Humph! 

I took the body temperature as I waited for the kettle to boil. Well, well, another first for this Sunday! The temperature of 36.4°c was the same as yesterdays! All these years of having to record them for the surgery, this has never happened before.

The results for the SYS from the Boot’s sphygmomanometer of 166, would usually have been of concern to me, but compared to Saturday’s, it was betterer, well much lower anyway.

I finally got started with updating yesterdays blog. It cost me three hours, plus another one when I added a template for today’s to go on. But at least the ailments were being fairer to me at the moment. Apart from poor suffering, ripped open by an exiting, solid, giant-sized torpedo, Harold’s Haemorrhoids, they were very tender, any movement at all now, well how can put it? Argh!

I did another vain search for the Nikon camera lens, and the rain poured down, but it didn’t stop the louder than ever annoying ‘Hum”s droning noise! Grrr!

I thought it was a good idea to transfer the Kodak lens to the Nikon camera. Cunning eh?

Then I dropped the milk and made such a mess. I was on the point of crying. (I think a few tears may have leaked out) This did Duodenal Donald no good at all, seconds later Anne Gyna showed her disapproval!

Then as I was getting back up from cleaning the crap up, I hit my chin on the edge of the sink, and SSS gave me a shaking!

Depression Returns – Well, at least fed-upness!

Now I had enough – I openly spoke with our maker! (Honestly!) It went something like:

First, you let me get born with the tiniest, dinkiest manhood twinkle in the world, babies have more than I do now! Granted me double-pneumonia at three years of age. Made me as thick as pig-shit, so schooling was a nightmare of being bullied.

And why did you make me play in the school team when the flu bug (1959 I think), had lost them many footballing lads off school – I was the shortest pupil at that school, and they put me in goal! Come on! (We lost against Corpus Christie, 13-0)! I remember it well; they beat me up on the bus going back!

I worked hard and long hours, and you had me made redundant three times! You stopped me getting a tobacco and drinks licence for the shop, then allowed me to get robbed by my accountant, go bankrupt, end up doing security work, in which I was not just the only member of staff to get shot on duty – but, TWICE!

Then you made me go bald, sent me a duodenal ulcer, angina, deafness, saccades, lost half of my thumb, stopped the reflux valve from working, a hernia (fair enough they did find cancer while mending that -you didn’t see that one coming did yer!)

Then a dodgy ticker, new mechanical Aorta valve, three break-ins at the house and I had two muggings in Carrington, then the stroke (Thanks for that!)

Peripheral Neuropathy diagnosed! Then diabetes, return of lung struggles, then the bladder cancer. And the ankle and foot ulcers, they are just great fun. I’ve got a new one coming this morning. Thank you. I could go on mate, but I haven’t got the time. Humph!

Oh, go on then! Cheers for putting in such misery, frustration and risk of death, by making me use the Carrington Pharmacy, 343-345 Mansfield Rd, Carrington, Nottingham NG5 2DA, Telephone number: 0115 960 5453, just up from the Lidl store, but genuine thanks for having Jenny ♥ nearby.

Gawd I hope there isn’t a God now, or I’ll be for it!

Then, I prepped some potatoes and got them in the slow-cooker, to have with the Chilli-Con-Carne. I went to open the can with a view of adding some passata to marinate in the mixture.

Arrrrgh! The flaming new electric can opener is not working now! It gave out a whine, shuddered and died.

What next!

  • I woke up full of guilt and not knowing why!
  • Lost the camera lens cover!
  • Took two of the worst ever photographs in my life!
  • Suffered agony on the Porcelain Throne!
  • Fought to get the WC to work!
  • Smashed the milk bottle!
  • Nearly knocked me out hitting the draining board!
  • The Amazon can opener has packed up!
  • Duodenal Donald and Anne Gyna are giving me a pasting!
  • And I think I’m losing, what bit of a molecule of grip I have left on life, now!

If there a word stronger than depression that I can use?

I had an uncertain moment, and for some reason had to go and check that I had not left the tap running in the wet room, which proved a painful experience. I hit my right knee against the shower chair, and thus, Neuropathy Pete, launched into one of his involuntary right-leg Neuropathic Schuhplattler dances, and over I went. Getting back up to my feet (eventually), to find I’d clouted the left wrist against the chair on the way down. Hey-Ho!

I carried on blogging away; the wee-wees are not so regular today. Mind you, with the amount I must have past last night; it’s not surprising.

I’ve still got to get some graphics made up, but Josie’s dinner has to be prepped and made first. Back in a bit, I hope. I did some comment reading in between.

Then back to the cheffing duties. All went reasonably well, apart from cutting a tiny nick into my finger, adding the butter to her potatoes. Serves me right for using a knife to cut it with!

The cheesy potatoes I tried adding a little milk to them (Hence the lost bottle!), and plenty of butter, sea salt and Leicester Cheese. Sliced the last tomato, an egg, a fishcake with smoked haddock inside, a fillet of smoked salmon, a few Surami sticks, garden peas, and some pickled beetroot slices. A can of spiced rum and cola, and a couple of the Skinny strawberry chocolate nougat bars. I managed to deliver it once again, dead on midday. Josie said she liked the strawberry skinny’s and asked what was in the can and breadcrumbs. So I told her. Hehehe!

I was beginning to wane a little now and realised that getting any graphics made up was a no go. With Donald and Anne Gyna still bashing away at me, I was suddenly not up to much.

But I was determined to have a search for the Nikon camera lens again, which I tried to do methodically. On what must have been the third scouring of the kitchen, I realised I’d got the potatoes on the crockpot nearly done now. So, thought I’d have a tin of the ring-pull chilli and the potatoes for nosh later.

This was when to my own disbelief, I spotted the Nokia lens cap on top of the large slow cooker! Possible laughing at me! Hehe!

I decided that I’d swap them back, Kodak and Nikon with their own caps. This cheered me up a tad… but no, does anything ever go right with me?

The Kodak cap which was on the Nikon was now missing! Am I going mad, here! It cost me another hour of delving into any possible place that it could have fallen, checked all the jammie bottom pockets, jumper and coat ones too. Drawers, shelving as well! I even searched between the two chairs in case it had dropped down. This bending and getting back up again only made Anne Gyna and Duodenal Donald angrier with me.

While I was giving up, I went to return the torch to the drawer… and thought I’d have a looking with it, between the computer desk (Hopewells G-Plan design, 1962, bought from the charity shop when I moved into the flat), and blow me down with a feather duster – there was the Kodak lens cap! I returned it to the Kodak camera.

There was no celebration about this, and I found myself back at this mornings state of mind, and the thought storms began again. To try and shake them off, I abandoned the computing and got some nosh sorted out after all. Which worked! Yee-Haa!

I found a can of CCC (Chilli-Con-Carne) that had a ring-pull opener, and some gravy and the boiled potatoes from the crock-pot. The last few Foul Beans from the fridge were put in the mix, and all armed upon the hob. Some milk roll bread, and a lemon yoghourt as well.

Absolutely divine! Flavour-Rating 8/10! As you can see here, I didn’t leave a lot! Mmm!

The washing up of all the pots and cutlery etc. from both Josie and my meals took what felt like an eternity!

I stripped off, flopped down in the recliner under the quilt, and settled to awaited the Nightmare Kitchen programme to start. I blissfully fell asleep, woke up in need of a wee-wee, forced my lumberous body from the recliner, had a wee-wee of the WTPP (Weak-Trickling-Pale-Painfree) mode… and realised I had not taken the evening medications yet. So I took ’em!

About three minutes into the programme, Sweet Morpheus returned. Nice!

8 thoughts on “Inchcockski: Sunday 15th November 2020: Another cock-up day. Humph!

  1. Maybe the ghosts and aliens are helping you get to the grey wee wee bucket. Either way, better to get there and back with no memory of it than kicking the bucket. I love you fed up photo. I think a lot of people are seeing red over all the crap that’s going on. You made short work of the CCC. I proud of you for taking up the chili habit.

    Liked by 1 person

    • Hahaha! Kickingthe bucket is not on my bucket list, at t he moment, Tim. Give this virus a little more time, though! Hahaha!
      Sl glad you liked the graphic, Tim, thanks for mentioning it, mate.

      Problems today too – I’ll meniton the new can opener, I can’t get it to work, so back to the old not-thrown away manual tool – Blood! But it didn’t stop me getting a CCC and red beans, with balsamic vinegar gray and Squis sauce added. I hope to get it down me shortly.

      All the best to the extended clan!
      A full report will be in tomorrows IT, Sir.

      Liked by 1 person

  2. This is such a thoroughgoing summation of outrageous fortune. I must remember to bookmark 15 November 2020 for reference purposes — all part of being a loyal and diligent reader of IT — as long as it does not interfere with my red-car observationalicalities, of course. The prayer was one for the ages. And not to worry, you are merely stating the truth in full measure.
    As I recall, the Nikon lens cover is the one that finds its way to losthood most frequently. I might ask Sir Google if my correctedness in this matter does not cut the mustard.
    May your Monday cut much mustard, kind Sir!

    Liked by 1 person

    • I fang you! Arthur Askey punch-line, British Comedian of the 40’s – 50’s, Billum.
      Does yer know, that prayer was the only bit of my writing this blog, that just flowed, reet natural-like.

      More disasters in Mondays IT, I’m afraid, Tsk!

      You are spotteth-on about the Nikon lens cap, it’s a little monkey at times!

      One day, something might go right ofr me yet, Billum? Nae…!

      But a laugh is still possible!

      Best wishes through the ether, especially for Lisa and you.

      Like

      • I sent an inquiry on Arthur Askey to George Google, Geo took a long 0.65 seconds to gather 296,000 things — including the timely mention that Askey died on this very day in 1982. Son of a gun was born on June 6, 1900. He would have been 120 years old had he not died in the interim. But a laugh from Arthur is still possible on the internet. 🙂
        Our bestest wishes to you from me and Lisa too!

        Liked by 1 person

      • Thanks, Billumski.
        This dying lark can spoil things, can’t it. Hehe!
        I’d like to return the besterest wished for you both, with hopes that the election and installation goes as smoothly as it can.

        Thanks again, cheers.

        Like

  3. Aw! “Lost” anything these days happens faster than I can put things down, it seems! Lost things appear in outrageous places as a rule. The other improbabe regularity is things knocked on the floor, what usually happens before my numb hands figure out where they are in the morning. Pisses me off, let me tell you, and with the occurrences comes a thundering roar to Ye Gods! (I hope calling it a roar to “Ye Gods” spares me with THE God, be there One!!! Or else I’m a zillion times lost!)

    Liked by 1 person

    • We can agree on that, Doug!

      I regret it weas another bad day today, although not as badderer as yesterday… makes me fear tomporrow! Hahaha!

      Try yo give Dougie a bit of fuss for me, please. Don’t put yourself at risk, mind. Haha!

      Like

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