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06:00hrs: I roused from my slumber and felt full of life and ready to get upped and at ’em… Thankful to find I was still alive. Blessed the Lord, praised my good fortune, I thanked the Heavens for another day of joy and merriment. And admired the state of my muscular six-pack stomach… Of course, t’was all a figment of my half-asleep, depressed, tortured, nervously agitated, dominated, feeble, and confused mind.
Truth? I felt horrible! Physically, things were not too bad at all! But only mentally.
Fair enough, I’d done something to the right hand’s middle finger, at the bottom of the nail. The tiniest bit of something sticking up, and each time I caught it on something, it stung like hell. Finger beginning to swell and redden? No idea what had caused it.
The ulcer is forever glowing and growing one day, then sinking and hiding the next? But the Doctor said she’s not bothered about this, so it will be alright. She was concerned with the fluid retention and swelling and took the time to talk to me in great depth to explain the malady and how and what to do… She said (To Meridian’s Natalie on the phone): ‘Tell him to put his feet up.’ Nothing like a caring Doctor, I imagine. But how would I know?
Commenced. The body temperature was once again almost perfect, close to the said optimum of 35°f, with 34.6°f. Perfick!
Sphygmomanometerisationing session next. These returns were far better than yesterday’s were. SYS down to 134, DIA 63, and the Pulse down to 79 bpm. This looked good to me. I got the computer and put the figures into the NHS DVT site to see what they make of it. I got a details list; come back this time. The Blood Pressure was pleasing, especially with it going up yesterday. I’m out of the red zone again! Very satisfied with being n the pre-high area. I’ve not done that very often… well, in the last month, I have a few times.
Carer Richard arrived, looking a little more sprightly and not yawning. I was going to ask him if he’d got a decent sleep in at last, but he volunteered that he has four days off now and will see me next Monday. He needed a break. I bet someone doesn’t come in, and they call on Richard again. Poor lad! He checked the medical drawer to ensure sufficient medications were available until Monday. He noticed I winced when I was getting his treats out; when I caught whatever it was, thingamabob, whatnot, near the nail. Told me to level the bit sticking up and put a plaster on it. So, I did! Feeling an idiot for thinking of doing that myself! Haha! We had a natter after Richard had done the medicationings. Taking my waste bags with him on the way out to the rubbish chute for me.
I got the kettle on, and as I did, it was as if someone had turned the light off… The sky went ominously dark very quickly. I got the Canon camera and took this photo. I was expecting a downpour any moment, but no! Within a few minutes, the light had returned. Dr Who would have known what was going on? But not me. Hahaha!
I noticed the usually plus green meadow at the bottom of the tree copse was looking a little weather-worn. But not around the edges, but only in the centre? A dog-walker was picking her little white dog’s poo and putting it into a bag for the poo box. This got me thinking of my younger days living in the Meadows. If memory serves me right, and my long-term memory usually does, the short-term usually affects me. I can recollect that there was an abundance of dog droppings on my paper rounds, and I reckon 74% of it was white or grey. Even some of the cats’ evacuations were! No one ever thought of collecting the turds back then, of course. They’d get dried and then used as kickabouts by the local kids.
I’m assuming the whiteness was due to malnutrition of some sort? Looking back a the food given to some dogs makes me shudder. A lot of dogs ate with the family. Whatever they ate, the dogs did. Then along came the new Lassie and Chappie canned dog food. 3d a can! This equates to about… let’s see, there were 240ds to a pound, so if divide 240 by three, excuse me while I use the calculator… that would buy 80 cans for a quid! Those were the days! Today one tin of Chappie cost £1.30; what percentage rise in price is that?
But the dogs on our terrace did not take to Lassie or Chappie. Apart from Mr & Mrs Wright’s Rover. I knew that Mrs Dukes Sammy, Mr Marsinacks dog (I can’t remember his name), and the barber, Mr Barker’s three dogs, Lilli, Brutus and Chelsea, hated them. Not so bad for those three. The owner could afford fresh or canned meat for them. Other dogs continued to pass the white lumps, most of them going from bin to bin in search of fodder. Still, no one complained about the dog mess… I think we thought it would just evaporate. Ha, Ha!
I spent hours and hours doing this blog. No one called, no hassle… apart from the odd overture of noises from the antisocial, smarmy Herbert in the flat above But, not a lot today… up till now, anyway.
I’ve run out of bread; I do have some part-baked cobs to use, though. I made an order from Iceland for next week and ordered a few loaves; there should be room in the freezer for the bread by then.
Getting late already. I got the meal sorted. I worked things out oven-cooking-wise (Huh!); The veggie burgers needed 30 minutes cooking, the potato Rosti’s 20, so I planned to put the burgers in for 10-minutes, then add the rosti. And what a danged mess I made in doing so.
Muggins here did it the opposite way around! Realised five minutes later that and removed the rostis, burning my wrist as I took them out, and dropped one on the floor.
Reconstituted and shaped it, burning my finger, and got the burgers in and cooking.
Dropped the plate as I was putting the peas onto it.
Forgot to add the rostis after 10 minutes!
By then, I was pretty self-critical, and at that time. Herbert kicked off with a tap-tap-crunch routine.
I’m sure what I did then, I was pretty stressed and miffed. Somehow, I got the mess sorted in a fashion. And got sat in the £300, second-hand, decrepit, Haemorrhoid Harold-testing, sleep deterring, nauseatingly beige-coloured, not-working, recliner, and ate the meal from a tray, balancing precariously on the folds of fat on the stomach. While eating it, I kept getting twinges of guilt for leaving the kitchen sink with food-burnt-on oven trays soaking. Still, despite it all, I ate all of the fodder and scored it an 8/10 for taste.
Put the plate to one side and drifted into a deep, almost heavenly dream-filled sleep. I’ve no idea what I was dreaming of, just knew it must have been something pleasant… For the Evening-Carer had arrived and stood over me, looming and speaking… I thought at first that this must be a part of the dream. My mind was all over the place. The gal had not rung the ♫Oh Susana♫ door chime and came in without me knowing. Good job that I wasn’t changing PPs or wee-weeing in the bucket! I was a little out-of-it, slow, mentally, having just been woken up, so things were foggy about the visit. Got the meds sorted, and I think we had a little natter about something. I walked to the door with her to lock it. Thanked her and offered a treat, unaccepted or wanted on this occasion. Wished the gal all the bestest, and I hastened back for a wee-wee. Not had one for a while.
No shaving cuts… because for some reason, I forgot to shave? The feet looked a little colourful, but I’d not long been out of the shower, so that would have some bearing on their condition, I reckon. Back on the computer, after failing to nod back to sleep. Another ruined night’s sleep. And I’m paying to be woken up to be given my medications! Hahaha!
I found a lost photo of the front car park from this morning.
The vehicles are parked rather decoratively, don’t you think? A colourful selection on view.
Guilt reminded me that the kitchen had not been cleaned yet. So I cleaned it, then got back to the comp[uter to update this blog to here.
Then I went into ponderisationalistical-mode on what today’s Ode should appertain to… Well, I sat here waiting for inspiration. Listening to the dreaded World-Wide-Hum getting louder and louder, or seemingly so!
An hour later, I am still awaiting some afflatus or eureka-moment to inspire the Ode into logicality… no, no, that won’t work. Best do the normal then, type away and hope for the best, no doubt struggling for words, what they mean, how to spell them, miss-typing and spelling, confusion, inanity… the usual stuff then. Sorry about that.
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All the bestest!