Saturday Diary & Ode: 17th September 2022

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To my cyber-buddy and fellow none-fitter-innerer Billumski!
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I think I had more sleep last night than I have in any week! Sadly, it was all in bits and pieces, broken by being woken and my habit of straying off doing things after I’d needed one of the several wee-wees. Also, some persistent Thought-Storms of an aggressive nature.

But I returned to the doubtful comfort of the £300, bought eight years ago from the second-hand shop, Harold Haemorrhoid testing, repugnantly beige-coloured, crumb containing, virus-breeding, acne-giving, rickety, none-working recliner; after each hobble about, or moving things around for no reason, and rearranging of a food cupboard. Why? I anticipate finding other things that I may well have done in my noctambulations later on.

I lay there, pondering over this and that, and anything and the bowels decided to try and evacuate the inner product of its own accord… There followed a sequence of events that were events that were worthy of the Comedy Sketch of a Year Award. I thank heavens there are no CCTV cameras in this flat!

①: I fumbled and bumbled my way up onto my feet; crumbs, the TV remote and a part-eaten packet of pistachio nuts hit the floor and spread all over the carpet..
②: No time for the waking-up to catch my balance routine, I grabbed Metal-Micky, and on the first imitation step, I found one of the pistachio nuts with my left foot.
③: So, as I crumpled onto the floor, my right knee found another escaped Pistachio nut!
④: I went through some pain getting up again, and was only concerned at that moment with getting to the in time… The narrow hallway walls sustain me getting into the wet room, for Metal Micky was laying somewhere in the front room wherever it was, I’d dropped him in the tumble.
⑤: The fight to get the pyjamas down delayed me and caused more panic; I tore them, in the end, to get them down quicker…
⑥: To no avail, I fear! The bladder and bowels won this one! They both started before my bum got down on the plastic .
⑦: At least things were over quickly, but they left me with I don’t know how long to put right and clean up the wet room, then the exit points had to be cleaned and medicated. Fortunately, I keep a supply of the PPs and large kitchen towels with the Germolene and Germolids to hand in the wet room. Along with the aftershave and plasters to steady any shaving cuts or leaks from Little Inchies Fungal Lesion while I’m doing the ablutions.

I can’t understand why now; no doubt it made sense at the time, but I felt a little smug at coping with these embarrassments and decided to get the done while I was in there.
The right knee was not in good shape after its attack on the Pistachio nut earlier. Hehe! in shaving, left me using the plasters and the aftershave to stop the bleeding! Little Inchies Lesion was not leaking; all were okay!   Oh, and the hair at the lower back of the head come neck is definitely growing again – white! I shaved it off.
After getting things all sorted, new PPs and socks (that were a hell of a job to get them on!) on, The right knee was now very tender!  I packed the affected PPs in the disposal bag and returned to get Metal Micky from the recliner room…
When I got back in the room, I thought I’d had burglars! I’d cleared the shelf above the electric fire of all the rubbish, and that had joined the crumbs and food on the carpet! Making it worse, a bottle of disinfectant I keep there for the wee-wee bucket had lost its cap when it got knocked over!
I’d also like to know how I managed to get Metal Micky left right in the corner her the bookcase? I think it would a physical impossibility, surely? Anyway, it was hard enough trying to retrieve it; I had to climb over the many fallen object to get to it – so I used the long picker-upperer. Cunning that, I thought!
I got Micky back with the stick and was almost on the verge of congratulating myself as I turned around and against the shredder. Another flipping moment!

I stopped doing everything. And mountaineered my way to the recliner, resisting crying, and just sat down and spoke to myself as calmly as I could… “This is not a good start. Fair enough, the bladder and bowels are out of your control, as are your fingers, feet, legs, shoulder etc… no good getting depressed, mate; it’s just how it is. What you need is some help when things like this happen. I agreed with myself, called myself a pratt, and did my belated balance exercise.
At this point, I noticed the clock… that was on the floor with all the other jetsam and flotsam – I checked with my watch, and they both indicated it was only 04:30hrs! Christ, what time did I get up then?

I swore to take things calmly from here on today. And tackled the mammoth job of cleaning and sorting things out in the room. I’m not saying I didn’t have a few moments of self-pity cause I did feel sorry for myself once or twice. But found the determination to just press on with the sorting. No rushing, doing it quietly. I got something out of it at the end of the task, I’d got three waste bags full of rubbish to go to the chute. Hahaha! Somehow or other, I perked up a smidgeon, too! It was well gone eight O’clock by the time I’d sorted the mess. Then I made a prayer for it not to happen again for a while, please.

It then dawned on me… the Morning Carer had not been yet? Quick as a flash, I realised it was a Saturday, so no fretting. Meridian was very late arriving last Saturday as well. They do have trouble getting staff at the weekend, it seems. Moments later, a call came in through the landline, and it was from Meridian.
The lady told me that the Carer was outside and could not get in. I took it as she was outside the building and told her to press the intercom 72 and I could let her in… then I thought I’d better check, and I inquired if she was outside the door or the flats? But the lady did not know. I said I’d get my walking stick and go have a look. Got the Wooden Wilmer stick, and I went to the door.
The Carer was outside of the flat door, complaining because she could not get the key lock code to work. I smiled gently, using one of my calming half-smiles, and told her I can’t either! And broke into a broad grin. That did it, I think; I caught her heart!   Hahaha! I explained that the door was not locked; sometimes, I forget to unlock it, but not often. If she presses this button, pointing out the door chime, I will hear it, but not anyone knocking on the door. I’m deaf, senile and decrepit, but that can’t be helped. She did larf! I liked her straight away.

Her name was Sinead, not seen before. I think she was from another assignment somewhere else; that’s why she was late, getting me added to her list. Nice gal, we had a little chinwag. She said she’d come again if she got the chance.

Well, I’ve still not done the Health Checks yet, better get them done. The last time I did them later in the day, the figures were down, so here’s hoping.

Well, that didn’t help much, doing it late, did it? Ah, well, as a part of my commitment to resist swearing, feeling sorry for myself and keeping calm, all I can say is: Hey-Ho!

Time to sort out something for dinner; no bother making up my mind today; I’ve a fancy for some chips and a veggie burger! The chips are oven ones that claim to be vegan. looking forward to trying them.
and Yet again, the photo I took of the meal has evaporated into the ether! I’d love to know how this happens; cause I took a look at it after shooting it and was pleased with the result. Come the morning, when I uploaded the last few photographs, there it was gone! Grrr!
The chips looked very tattie and were thick-skinned, but I did enjoy them all the same. Taste-Rating: 6.5/10.

Arrived, it was Sharon; I knew her name the second she told me after I asked her what it was! (Dementia Doreen again!) She didn’t stay long, but we managed a mini-natter before she chose her treats and departed.

Washed the pots, locked the door and a rinse, and made for the warmth of the rickety c1966 recliner. I feared that I may not be able to get back to sleep and put the telly on… but could I find anything worth watching? No!
I mused over which DVD to watch. Whilst doing so, I drifted off into Sweet Morpheus’ land… Nice!

Two hours later, I woke in desperate need of a wee-wee! The memories of this morning’s facial, embarrassing and painful events came flooding back.
Would I make it to the NWWB (Nocturnal-Wee-Wee-Bucket) in time without any more Accifauxpas? again, but I got things flowing without any disasters.
Stopping it flowing was the problem! The went on and on… I was almost tired out by the time it ended. Hehehe! I did have a mini during the leaking, but it only lasted for seconds – !

I felt the warm wet sensation when I pulled up the PPs. So, off I limped with Metal Micky to change the pants and clean up.
As I entered the wet room,
I stubbed my toe against the vicious, blood and bruise-bringing, metal, agony-to-use, brutal
I’m sure she had moved from this morning; I thought I’d put her safely out of the way behind the mop bucket… I’m sure I did! Now, she was near the sink? Obviously, the work of the mysteries of Winwood Heights, the ghosts, wraiths, spectres, cacodemons, apparitions and other grotesqueries haunt the hallways and lobbies, searching for Inchcock, to create ambiguities, abstrucities, perplexities, misfortunes and botherations, to scare. worry and confuse me! Or maybe .

That was the end of any thoughts of getting back to sleep again!

8 thoughts on “Saturday Diary & Ode: 17th September 2022

  1. I chart my bp, too. Seems I have an opposite issue – hypotension! Well, a suggestion of a trend toward that, and it seems for us old farts a diastolic reading between 60-90 is an acceptable level. I asked my nephrologist about it and he hemmed and hawed about verification of that standard and what hypotension entailed. Seems my general understanding of the impact is scary enough without the doctor’s lecture on the whole business. Like I told the nephrologist at University Hospital-Denver when he was hesitant to tell me I was going to have to be on dialysis forever – I was naked under a hospital gown at the time – “You don’t have to worry about scaring the pants off me, doctor, because I’m not wearing any.” LOL! I prefer the whole story because bits and pieces in articles and blogs on the Internet always sound like the Second Coming is nigh if you don’t take cover.

    • Well said, Doug. I like to have it told as it is too, mate.
      Great sense of humour there with the pants, Doug. Haha!

      A doctor before the heart op, came to the bedside anf told me percentage rate for a successful transplant. I can’t remember what it was, no point guessing. When he’s gone, a nurse said she has to sign a form that she’s witnessed me being told. All a part of stopping any claims from relatives if I snuffed it in the threatre. Hahaha!

      For years, since the heart op, I’ve been sending the BP results to the DVT clinic for monitoring. Occasional they would contact me by email to ask questions and or give advice. Last month, I found out they had cancelled the service over three years ago! No wonder they had not contacted me ages. Hehehe!
      TTFN, give Andy a skritch for me, please.

  2. I completely agree with you on the transfer from Boris to Liz, Boris was often portrayed with ad hominem attacks as shown in that political cartoon. Yet, his actions spoke even louder than his words, and his words were actually well chosen. Truss isn’t even good at her selection of words and is ambiguous on her actual plans. The system is gamed toward rewarding the worst possible leaders: a Kakistocracy — something we experienced from 2017 to 2021.
    On a grateful note, I am incredibly flattered by the very kind portraiture you created on the occasion of my appearance in the Three-Fourths of a Century Club. My sister, Terry, arrived there 16 months ago; my youngest sibling turned 50 years this past January. Lisa and Alan worked to make my birthday a take-it-easy day, the best possible gift methinks.
    I now return to the normal self-deprecating Billum. Fank you!
    That Micky Stick did absolutely everything it could to make its capture impossible. What a cad of an assistant, making you crawl through a mine field of objects in the way. Gad.
    The BP readings did not give you much solace this week, mate. Dang that all to Heck and Back. Hoping that dang-a-thon works on tomorrow’s readings.
    Sinead appears to be a welcome Carer at a time most needed. A kind person can bring much to improving any sort of ailment. You seem to have more good ones than questionable ones, I hopeth that they all somehow become betterer sorts of chaps and chapettes.
    Looking forward to seeing more Silurians later today, Petal won some relief from sleeplessness yesterday and is being attended by Sweet Morpheus at 3:35 MST (Manor Standard Time).

    • Poor Boris. Outed by lesser and clueless comarades!
      So good of Lisa and Alan to care enough to give you just what you needed, Billum. Bless them and thankis to them! ♥
      Glad to have you back, mate, especially being a fellow ingenuous.
      The just-doing-a job carers, get to me a little, especialy after having a great one call.
      Well done to Sweet Morpheus – krrp… or even, keep it up please!
      Love the MST – all a part of the Time Machine developments in Lab 28?

      • Boris Johnson is a Winston Churchill compared to a Liz Truss, whom I shall now cast as a Neville Chamberlain proclaiming “Peace for our time.” Just a thought from an outsider of course. Wot do I know? Perhaps Carers might also be cast as characters in a Theatre of the absurd?
        I shall also try to krrp it up as well. Krrp simply needs to become a word.
        And MST is also known as Mystery Science Theater, do you know of that TV program? Had I mentioned that Lisa is familiar with Quartermass? Methinks me has.

      • Hehehe!
        Richard hte famous Yawn-Talker. starring in the Exhausted Exhuming Entity… maybe not.
        You hsd mentioned HRH familiarity with Quatermass. I love the Wuastermass & the Pit films. 1959 and I think 1966.

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