Inchies Ode to Failed Wishes

I wanted Mummy to love me for sure…
But crime had caused her departure…
Police caught her in a cottage on the river Nure,
But that was years later, not really a cure…

I wanted to become a competent swimmer…
But I soon discovered that I was scared of water,
I soon got Inchcock as a new nomenclature…
I fought to get into the footy team, the agony I did endure…
But I was useless; I even thought of becoming a friar!

Things were depressing and getting dire…
Then we had a nasty frying pan fire…
Left me scalded, but to the pain, I am no stranger,
The most used word to me was Shurrup! I was a chinwagger…
I once poked myself in the eye with a penny banger!

I try dancing, the Twist and the Conger…
Of course, I can’t do them any longer…
In those days, I was younger and stronger,
And, I was earning some serious wonga,
All of which I’ve spent and have no longer…

Nowadays, my life is a little austerer…
To socialisationing, I’ve become a sightseer,
My ailments often mean that I feel a bit queer…
So when someone relates to me, I hold it dear…
But folks generally keep away, don’t come near!

I became a Headway volunteer…
Tried to give the patients a little cheer
We’d share Monopoly, darts and the odd root beer…
I’ve never been any kind of profiteer…
Eventually, they said I was becoming battier…

Why? was it some form of solastalgia?
I found out it was due to Peripheral Neuralgia,
I was definitely getting a little crochetier…
And my body was getting heftier… fatter,
I decided that this didn’t matter…

With my self-hatred, I felt evermore guiltier…
My calling myself names got much nastier,
If I just accept things, maybe life may come easier…
I even went to speak with the local vicar…
He touched what he shouldn’t. I’m now a nonbeliever!

I still press on, getting wobblier and clumsier,
To avoid depression, I tried to keep myself busier,
Each day I get crappier, creepier, and dizzier…
Even the carers think that I’m getting barmier!
I admit I’m getting poorlier, older and bolshier!

There’s no denying that I’m getting more Clishmaclaver…
Numbers, figures calculation I can no longer figure,
I muse over my fear, praying there may be a cure…
Against the darkness of gloom, I cannot enure!

Even talking to myself, I’m getting more spitefuller…
I can’t reason things sometimes; that makes me mardier…
And my body is aching so, and getting lardier…
My wee-weeing is more frequent and dribblier,
My Haemorrhoids are bloodier and much itchier!

The short term memory is confused, vaguer, muddier…
And used to be such an excellent rememberer!
At this moment, I don’t know if it’s March or September?
Have I put the oven on yet? I’ll have a gander…
No, I’ve not; what else have I missed on my agenda?
Well, I left the hot tap on… frustration and anger!

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Diary Tuesday 1st June 2022

  After perhaps twenty jump-awakes, I gave up on the 21st or so and rose onto my feet for a wee-wee at 04:10hrs. Grumph!

The leak was free of Pre and After Micturitional Dribbling. Well, that was something! It sort of got me in an up mood.

I trotted off to the wet room to empty and sanitize the wee-wee bucket, and I got the Ablutions done while I was in there. There was only one tiny nick shaving and two dropsies, none of which caused any bother. A good session as well this time.

Got the Blood Pressure and Temperature sorted out. Despite the lousy night’s limited sleep and unending damned shooting awake, I was not in a bad mood, with a jump almost! They are getting worse each night?

SIA 136. DIA 71 and the Pulse were at 77bpm, I think. Cataracts etc., making it hard for me to see. The body temperature was still slightly low at 33.6°c, but not a lot below the 35.0°c target. It might be more explicit when blogging.

I nipped off to make a waste bag-up and got some potatoes in the saucepan to marinate in the fish sauce before boiling later on. I was on form today!

Made a brew of Thompson’s Punjana tea, and the early morning sky caught my good eye. The cloud looked like it would turn into an alien spaceship and burst into view. I must have got the idea from a film that I’d seen? I’ll remember it! Got some photo’s from the SD card onto the computer. And started to do the Ode Tuesday blog.

I’d not gotten far with the odeing, and the call to the Porcelain Throne arrived from the innards. Trotsky Terence shared control; along with Constipation Konrad; I know it doesn’t make sense. But again, the movement took ages to get started and needed so much effort it was painful with it when it did begin, which wasn’t for a long time. I even got some answers in the crossword! But when things moved, they were cripplingly slow, and the final desperate push exited not rock hard as the first few but messy and gooey? What? I didn’t like that session at all!

Back to the odeing and got it finished at last. Getting ready to review the blog before posting, and ♫ Oh, Susana ♫ Chimed out. As soon as I heard it, I remembered I’d not yet unlocked the door. So, I did!

The look on Carer Richard’s face was with a place in the Tate Gallery! Worth a thousand words. Amongst them would be, “You pillock, you’ve forgotten again to unlock the door!” Hehe!

I was busy on the blogging, but due to a three-hour circumlocution of great vagueness, I can only use the scribbled notes to guess what took place. Here they are as best I can decipher them: Ode… rushing, emailed, Facebooking, WP Comments, WP Reader… Ode for today… Conrad Confusion, mind-blanks… rampant wee-wees…

I checked on the spuds to find that I’d not turned on the heat. Plonker! 

Herbert was not so bad today, not as loud. But still persistent throughout.

Took Strawberries unwanted by Richard to Josie. Got the nosh sorted out. Beer battered chips were great, and new potatoes with BBQ sauce and a ketchup dip pot. Sourdough bread, veg sausages, and tomatoes. Baby banana to follow. 8.2/10.

Still vague-minded, no idea who came… yes, I have; it might have been Cheeky-Charley… Yes, I think it was. Bless her.

Grrreat! I nodded off within ten minutes and stayed that way for three solid hours! Then the jumping-awake started again… Grumph!