♥ Yer can’t blame a man for visiting Mary, can you? ♥
Wednesday 24th February 2021
Welsh: Dydd Mercher 24ain Chwefror 2021
02:30hrs: I woke in a sweat, feeling smelly, and in a terribly confused state again. I lay for ages, fighting the slugabed instinct. The mind-muddled, and try as I might, I couldn’t seem to get the brain in-gear?
A sudden sneezing and phlegm rising bout saved the day. (I apologise to any neighbours I may have woken up, with this the viciously loud series of sternutations) but there was no stopping them! The benefit was that the mind began to grasp some logicality, and the need for a wee-wee arriving at the same time, forced me out of the £300, second-hand, c1968, cringingly-beige-coloured, not-working, rickety recliner.
I had a wee-wee, of the most reluctant type, all over in seconds. Then took the bucket for sanitising and had a freshen up, but started to shiver while I did so. I got a jacket on and the trews and risked making a brew of Glengettie Gold.
But the taste-buds were not working again. Most disappointing flavour to the tea. Humph!
I spotted the original cans of Stagg Chili-Con-Carne that had been delivered last night. The Dynamite meat one that may be too strong for my tastes? With the taste-buds bad again, I’ll have to leave it for a while before trying them.
Then again, the second poisonous dose of the AstroSeneca vaccine is due soon, so all this agony, misery, depression, and illness side-effects will happen all over again! This thought didn’t do me much good!
I got the Health Checks done. I wasn’t too surprised to see that the body temperature was in the near red. I’d been feeling feverish earlier in the recliner 37.6°c – 99.68°f, pretty high that!
The dependable, trustworthy, Chinese manufactured Boot’s Sphygmomanometer threw out slightly higher SYS 158, DIA 78, and Pulse at 88 bpm.
I updated the Excel record. The SYS and the Temperatures were all sneaking back up a smidge. No point in trying to get to talk to the Doctor about it after yesterdays five failed attempts to get through to the surgery. At least she can say honestly that when they find my body, which will have been in a crumpled heap on the floor for several days, no one calls to see if one is alright, of course. Hopefully, the next Warfarin blood test, whenever that is, the last one had a five-week gap, will mean my torso will eventually be found – and the Doctor can say, “Well, I didn’t know he was poorly!” One gets the feeling that the end-is-nigh.
But with the AstroSeneca vaccine number two to come, along with all the associated side-effects, am I bothered? Nope!
I took the morning medications, and I got on with updating yesterdays most-gloom-ridden diary for years. There was only SSS (Shuddering-Shoulder-Shirley) giving me any hassle typing wise. So I got it done in a reasonable time. Pinterested some photos, emailed the link and posted the blog off.
Went on Facebooking catch-up. A tiny bit of gurgling from the innards started. Which by the time I had finished, turned into a full-blown demand for the Porcelain Throne. Off to the wet room.
I fear my timing was not up to scratch. After I’d got down, I realised this the moment I saw the black and red mini globes on the floor! Embarrassment-Mode-Engaged! The passing was painful, messy and stinky! The tank had to be hand-refilled a few times to rid the evacuated product from the bowl. The early-escapee bits had to be cleaned up. I washed the hands and checked around to make sure I’d not missed any of the ‘bits’.
Off to try making another brew of Thompsons Punjana this time. I got some leeks and mushrooms prepped and into the crock-pot on low heat.
The mushrooms didn’t get into the crock-pot; a mega-dropsy meant they were put in the waste bin. Tsk!
I took a shot of the view through the glass in the kitchen window. Not a very good effort, but I wasn’t too bothered, plenty more serious things to worry about.
Back onto the computer and started this blog going. I found this disinformational graph on the web. A comparison between two of the Covid vaccinations companies being used. Not that one has any choice in which to have, of course. Unless you have a Private Doctor. I’ve got an NHS doctor, who I did manage to talk to on the phone three months ago.
Sister Jane rang. Lovely to hear her, even though the phlegm-rising was back again. It was coming up after a few minutes of chinwag. By the time I’d apologised and rang off, and I’d got to the toilet, I flaked out.
Got a drink of water and just sat down for Gawd knows how long. Oh, dear!
Woke up feeling a bit groggy, shivering again.
I forced myself to make a small Chilli-Con-Carne meal. It didn’t taste right, but that’s the taste-buds for you. Not a lot, but I ate it all up. Washed the pots.
I Rang Sister Jane back, but I was only partially aware at the time.
Soon got down and started a routine of sleeping, waking, sweating, repeatedly shivering—a lousy night.