What a mess! Got up late, ablutions Throne, Doctors things and list, Carer Richard, Shave changed checked emails. No time for blogging – I had to rush to get to the Doctor’s surgery on time. Three-wheeler trolley; hope I’ve got and done all that is needed, jacket, bus pass to get to the surgery, Carer Richards list of things to mention, etc. Fool! Going to walk back.
I’ll only flit through the happenings before the catastrophic events go to, in and coming back from the surgery.
Bless her busy heart ♥
Carer Richard was in a rush again, so a bit of rabbiting and nattering was lost there. I think he had extra calls on again.
After much messing about and feeling so unsure of what I was doing, I departed my little flat, and I went down to drop some treats off at the ILC’s (Independent Living Coordinators) office. I met Carol there, and she advised us that Esther is staying in South Africa for another fortnight, so Carol will do my laundry for me tomorrow. I was pleased to hear this; I like Carol.
Also, having missed out on a chinwag with Richard, it was heaven to see and speak to people at the bus stop. Christine, Carol, Deana, Frank, Mark… I was in my eyeholes, although concerned that I get to the surgery on time. The bus arrived, I dropped off on Mansfield Road, and I caught a bus a few stops into Carrington. Hobbled to the surgery, and it had changed so much from my last visit… naturally, that was years ago, I think.
Got into the reception, a new young girl there now. She was behind windows and plastic a bank would have been proud of. She was not too keen on me when I had to keep asking her what she said, ending up with a Hitler-like arm outstretched with a finger, pointing at the waiting area chairs. So I obediently sat down and got the crossword book and magnifying glass out… 
but I’d forgotten to take a pen with me. Humph!
I waited and waited. Folks were coming half an hour later and being called into the surgery. It was apparent that I’d made another cock-up with the timing?
Another fifteen or twenty minutes, and I summoned in.
“And what do you want this morning?” I handed her the list, and she typed things off of it into her computer. No signs of interest or concerns; until I told her about the last item, where I had a mind blank and memory blank, in Bulwell and came round hundreds of yards away, in the Pound Land shop. She had another bash at the computer and told me to arrange an appointment with the receptionist for an advanced memory test. Then asked me if I’d booked my Flu jab yet; I swear I heard her ‘tut’ when I said no. Hehe!
She changed her mind about me arranging the visits and came out with me and told the receptionist, who gave me a card with the dates on it. I forced a thank you out and meandered out onto Mansfield Road for the walk back to Sherwood. For some reason, it was a memory prompting hobble, an Accifauxpa and injury-acquiring one, as I discovered later. Here are the photographs that were taken, to which I recorded my thought on taking each one: I do my bestest, despite Dementia, Doreen! Hehe!
Well, Tsk!
I caught a number 40 bus back up Winchester Street to the flats.
I called in at the Warden’s holding cell office. And showed her the appointment card, asking if she could arrange for a lift there each time, but I could make my own way back. She’s up to the neck in it but said she would – then she noticed something of a mystery; Dang dang dang Dang!
The new surgery receptionist had made a bloomer or two here! (And this, from the second-best surgery in Nottingham certificated, Sherrington Park!)
Deana told me she’d look into it for me and let me know. I thanked her and made my way up to the flat, intent on getting some Phorpain gel on the right knee; it was definitely worse than earlier.
Hobbling slowly now, through the Winwood Court passage to Woodthorpe Court, up in the lift and into the flat. I got the trousers off and checked over the knee from the front…
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
Made a start on this blog, another late night? This could be serious?
Warden & Skiing Champion Deana called. To tell me the changed confirmed dates and times of the Doctor’s appointments.
19th September 11:00hrs – Mem Test.
24th September 10:30hrs – Flu – Pneumonia jabs.
I thanked her muchly. Then got the new times added to the Google Calendar
Sam, or erm… yes, I’m sure it was; arrived, not pressing the door tune button again! She’ll be the death of me. Talk about making me jump!
So late now, I’ve spent about six hours on this blogging. I’m going to get something to eat and catch up in the morning… Catch up in the morning? Did I really think that was a possibility? 
, I’ve not done the 
yet, Humph! Better get on with them then – no rest for the wicked!
Well, I put in the analyser… Oh, dearie me!
Got some chips and veggie burgers into the oven. Going to have tomatoes, and the fresh raw garden was with it.
That was the plan, as it turned out, I forgot to put the tomatoes on the dish – it could happen to anyone – with 
Dementia Doreen in their head. Tsk!
I took these two pictures with the Lumix on the ‘Auto’ option. It looked peaceful and calming to me, and I stood a while thinking things over… Until the sound of emergency vehicles, sirens and klaxons could be heard nearby. Twigged me back to reality!
I made up the somewhat larger than planned meal, got it on the tray, but could not resist eating some of the fresh raw pod peas before taking it through to the front room.
When I settled down with my feet up, the right knee went well down, but the rest of the leg bloated up with water retention. The banging and twisting it in the tumble, the reason I 
imagine?
I took the things through to the kitchenette and got them washed, and to my eyes, the sun was still in the sky as I saw it. So I took this picture, is it the sun, or a hole come gap in the clouds?
I washed things up and returned to the second-hand, £300, c1968, overwhelmingly-sickeningly beige coloured, tatty, uncomfortable, wobbly-recliner. Then walloped and rubbed in a lot of my Phorpain gel. The knee pain was still bad, although it was getting less blotchy and coloured all the time. 
To help me sleep; if Sweet Morpheus allows me to… less pain should mean fewer waking-ups.
– What an idiot! I remembered that I’d already taken an extra Codeine earlier, then another when Sam gave me the evening medications! I’ll have to look up the risks of taking too many Codeines. I’ll do it now…
Codeine should only be taken as a ‘top up’ or ‘rescue’ painkiller. Codeine may make you feel light-headed, dizzy or drowsy. Make sure you are at home when you take the tablets – Codeine can also cause constipation,
Allergic reactions (itch, hives, skin rash, redness, increased sweating, flushed face, difficulty breathing), death, increased pressure in the skull (painful eyes, changes in vision or headache behind the eyes), fits (convulsions)
Other side effects: Confusion, dizziness, drowsiness, tiredness, changes in mood, nightmares, mental depression, restlessness/excitement, headache, hallucinations (seeing, feeling or hearing things that are not there), feeling sick (nausea), constipation, vomiting, dry mouth, abdominal pain (may be caused by spasm of the bile ducts), low body temperature, blurred or double vision, tiny pupils, (Sorry, not this; I thought it said extremely small penis) palpitations, low blood pressure, low blood pressure on standing, slow or fast heartbeat, malaise (general discomfort), pain and difficulty in passing water, uncontrolled muscle movements and rigidity, decrease in sex drive.
Hehehe! I’m sorry I bothered you now. All the red-coloured risks I’ve already got. So taking extra Codeine should make little difference to me.
I’ve just two pairs of the not-so-effective Morrisons PPs left.
But fear not, for tomorrow, all being well, I’ve got some fresh ones arriving from Amazon.
These Depend Comfort type Protection Pants are not as thick as the chunky show-through your trousers Morrison ones.
They are cheaper than Morrison’s, but then again, Morrison’s prices have increased more than other places, so it’s not a surprise.
I find the Depend ones will protect in the event of any suddenly unstoppable wee-wee or blood from the rear end leaks, better than all the other PPs I’ve tried. Not a topic that should be on here, perhaps. But I know the benefit of using these pants. I’d like to pass this on to any other sufferers. Economical and trustworthy. Never let me down yet.
I got down in the recliner and dropped off in no time! Great! Besides that, apart from one waking for a wee-wee that had what felt like gallons of 
, Hehehe, I was in the land of nod for about six hours.
OMG Inchie! How crazy is your assisted living arrangement that you would be sent out on a busy road leaning on a push cart on an uneven pavement?? WHAT?? I honestly had jaw dropping there. And your carers, whom you pay astronomically, are to busy to take care of you. I am happy you made social inclusion as part of your day, I wish you would be able to just pop in those hearing aids in with batteries – turn on the lower switch and get whatever you can! You can mange volume up and down and power. Make sure you have batteries in and go for it my darling! ***I*** got picked up by the fire squad same day as you were basically psychologically mown down by a truck! I was calling my doctor to make an appt because I fell. It was BAD!!! I guess I was crying and breathless so the call center lady called our emergency number. Bill lost his hearing aid so he couldn’t hear anyhow. Later he picked up on the emergency guys walking through the kitchen to my bedroom! I was afraid I had broken bones ,but it turned out it was only like being hit by that lorry that missed you! The doc gave me a shot of Toradol (an anti-inflammatory) and I was feeling pretty good! I am aching but will heal. Your leg looked AWFUL!!! Take good care of it and keep safe my Darling! Love from your Petal!
Not good is it my Petal-Lisa.
I feel so guilty not setting up you beloved hearing aids my sweetheart. But not a single Carer offered to help me. I struggle typing nowadays. On my fist try at the aids you kindly got for me, Peripheral Neuropathy Pete would not let me handle anything so small, dropping thins – and Cataracct Katie prevented me advancing, case using the spy-glass as I did, was too cumbersome. I’m so ashamed after you’ve gone to all the trouble for me. Carer Richard said to wait until the Cataract has been done, then try again when you can sdee what you’re doing. I’d hoped he was going to say, I’ll come and help you. Can’t read instruction anyway. Makes me feel terrible. Love & thanks for your sweet actions.
The lady at the diabetes course, who I dat next to, told me she had her cataract done, said it was two months after the operation, before she could use the eye??? But she was fine now. Hope to see her this Friday at the session, and ask her some questions about what to expect.
That was not good taking a tumble, and on the same day as mine? I pray you recover alright, my Petal. ♥
I’ve two more appointments coming up, but cannot risk walking again after the Accifauxpa, so will have to pay for a lift one way with the mini-bus, after the doctors visit, my plan is to go to town and have a look around, not been in for a few years now. Then I can get a bus back frin tiwn, akk the way to the flats. Of course, that is inly the plan. Hehehe! Weather, ailments and Whoopsiedangleplops may intervene.
I shall honestly sent healing-vibes through the ether tonight – UK time 19:00hrs. ♥
Third mugging??? Have you considered a move to a place closer to your sister’s? Or does she live in a crime scene, too? I know how moving is a complication, especially re-establishing services, yet muggings inevitably involve harm, loss of cash or things, and the possibility even of death.
Jane moved into West Bridgford 60 year ago, it was an island of peace & tanquility. Bought a lovely home. They used to call West Bridgford – The bread & Lard Island, cause it was so posh an area. It’s still a cut above, but the drug gangs have cottoned on to how easy is was to set up operations in the area. Jane’s a year older than I am, but has avoided the dementia which is taking hold of me, and the gangs many activities, thank heavens. We are not close really, not seen her for years now, phone ofter though.
With Doreen Dementia, moving would not be an option, mate. I’m struggling to cope with the medical things now. Dates and times are another grind that confuses me nowadays. The diabetes people keep changing appoitnment dates, keping up with that alone is difficults date & time-wise. The cataracts have left me struggling to see, and when the operation time arrives, it’s going to be a oanic for me, fitting in everything, and help is minimal. ouths breaking into the flats, con-men the same, goiog door to door trying to sell us things, the Wardens rarely available when you ring them. But Deana has been a saviour when I can talk to her. So busy, unbelievable.
Drug deals around the flats where the pushers know that the ‘Council and Police cannot enforce parking laws’.
Doug, things are bad now. And I am not coping very well – my big fear is going or being sent, to a Dementia Home – I was in one after I had the stroke – it was hell!
Live s not mine anymore – it belongs to Doreen Dementia.
The doctor seems uninterested. As if it’s inevitable?
As with today, (just got up 03:44hrs) and last night a lady rang me from the Link Transport, to say they will lift me to Bulwell this morning for the Diabetes Course… now I’m baffled, I’d got it down in the calendar as being next week? Tried to contact Deana but no answer, she’s up to the neck with work. The outbreak of Covid in the three blocks of flats is making her job worse now.
Sorry to waffle, I just felt the need, Doug Sir.
I could do with an Andy, but pets not allowed here.
Worse than I realized, Gerry.
I’ve had a brief exposure to two care centers after recovery from treatment for end term kidney failure, and it was bad enough. In the first one, there was this mystery food that looked like a rectangle, was white, and came to the table so hard as to be inedible.
In the next one, there was a fish thing that had a similar inedible nature. When I saw it on the menu, I always ordered the alternative menu item, a decent green salad.
The second one had a therapy room that was half in and half out a zone set off during a flu outbreak. I was in the section not infected till I manage to catch it because I had to go through a door the was in the infected territory.
When I went to dialysis, they gave me a turkey sandwich that was processed turkey slices on white bread. No mayonnaise. No lettuce. No butter. Barely edible. That was because I missed lunch while at dialysis.
There was no coordination between those who got me to dialysis and those who gave the thrice weekly baths, so I also missed some baths. I had a private room with toilet and sink with hot and cold water, so I took wash cloth “baths” rather than go without some degree of hygiene. In the first care center,
I was put in a room with an alcoholic roommate whose doctor wrote a prescription for some drug that was supposed to help him deal with his alcoholism. He also got to have a shot of whiskey (!) once a day with the medication, and the effect of this “treatment” was he’d become loud and threatening. It was so bad I planned to ask to be put in a different room after the police (!) and six of his friends were called in one night to help the staff handle his rampage! I ended up getting to move to the second care center the morning after that night, and I definitely was happy about that.
As Judy Garland said while tapping her ruby shoes together, “There’s no place like home.” The care centers had a problem with being understaffed and poorly trained staff who were over worked, doubtlessly underpaid, with few benefits.
I can appreciate your circumstances, if feeling sad and sorry you are dealing with a difficult environment that is not elder-friendly.
That sound like me, Doug. Hehehe!
You’ve been through it just the same, mate.You Bill and I, share a common understanding of the medical world.
And it’s not good is it?
I hsd to do a police statement when I was in the home. man attacked a woman with a knife. Seeing and being with these sementia sufferers was horrible, yet not their fault – now I’ve got it, and keep going back in my mind – liteally scared to death of ending p like those patients, mate.
Not a sole to talk to about getting help, the Doctor is uninterested.
Sorry to moan again, I don’t think it helps. Sorry. But feel the need to, out of frustration.
A friend who was a highly competent manager of three areas in the hose factory where I worked in quality is suffering dementia and has been since her 60s. While her husband has been able to care for her at home, the stress on his shows. Alzheimer’s strips the individual of all dignity and places a burden on the family as the patient becomes less and less the person they love and care for. I can only imagine what it is like in a care center, where the care givers have several patients in this state of mind. A mad house comes to mind.
The exact description I gave to Sirter Jane when she came to visit, Doug.
I’ll try to avoid this happening, but, I suppose if I live long enough, it will be inevitable. I will not let that happen if I can, mate.
Cheers.