Ipsographic Inchy: Friday 24th May 2024

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04:10hrs: I stirred back into this beautiful, energetic, passionate, loveable, happiness-enriched, appreciated, happy wakefulness of life.  
However, there was a minor miracle, I have to say. Although the usual pains from both cartilages were soon rampant, now here this… there was no titter-od-a-pain from Little Inchy’s Fungal Lesion or even Little Inchy! Fantastic! Oh, also, up to now, 17:15hrs, not a single shock from the !

I hobbled to the wet room to empty the nocturnal catheter pouch in the WC. It was not a good colour again this morning, and my blood pressure was too high. I decided as it was early, to get the ablutions and medicationalisationings done after tackling the evacuation. 
Trotsky Terence was yet again on form.
More watery evacuations, like I don’t think I’ve ever suffered before. I guess those sausages don’t fit well with my innards?
By the time I’d stripped, a matter of maybe five minutes later. I was back seated on the Throne again. 
Did the teggies, cleared the nose, and got the shaving tackle ready for service.

I started shaving, and things seemed to be going pretty well. Then, I had a sudden
And at almost the same time, who gave way but, .
I suppose it might have been called lucky, as I fell onto the sink. It was all over in a few seconds; although I was wobbling and hit my head on the tap, I didn’t hit the deck for once.
I sat on the for a few minutes to recover.
This was when the blood flowed onto my face, cheeks and chin from my head. I’d got Kodak Tim in the dressing gown pocket from taking the pouch snap earlier to try some selfies of the wound. As fast as I cleared the blood, it was coming again. Only one thing for it, I thought. The after-shave stops the blood and stings, but it is so effective. Not this morning! I must have spent an hour or more trying to stop it. I went a little fuzzy-minded at this stage. I refound myself in the kitchen. I returned to the wet room to check if I’d left the taps running. I could see the pile of kitchen towels and toilet paper with bits of blood on them. There were some in the waste bin, and for some unknown reason, I’d spread others around the toilet seat? Still, it let me take a snap of them, Hehe! Then, I found the blood-soaked plaster on the top of my head. The box of plasters was in the kitchen, so I cleaned it up; it was still bleeding, so I put two thick plasters on it after trying to see if the Brute would work this time. What had happened was a bit foggy in my mind. I’m unsure if what I’ve written is exact, anyway. I’ve just had a thought! Maybe the persistent flowing blood was shooting out with the help of Dementia Doreen, thinking she was under attack? Har-Har!

I cleaned what must have been the most minor cut ever and put another plaster on. Then I meandered out onto the balcony for a nosey around, taking care that the dressing gown was well closed, as I had no socks on nor Protection Pants, and I was aware that if I had not, the tackle would be on view from below. 
The few minutes on the balcony, like yesterday with the police incidents, were just as interesting. First, I saw about six magpies in the car park mudslide having a bath together… Seconds late, about ten crows appeared and saw off the magpies in no time.
Then, a poor fox appeared from the trees, and just one of the crows made for him, diving at him or her until he disappeared into the tree copse. The poor fox seemed to know what would happen when he saw the crow. He kept stopping momentarily to assess where it was, then shot off again. They say things happen in threes. I wonder what tomorrow morning holds for me. Hahaha!
I thought of my cyber-buddy Tim in New Mexico. He’d have some good photos, but mine disappointed me. Other than the blurry bottom photo, I could not manipulate things quickly enough to catch the fox. I felt so sorry for him. I imagine he would have been trying to collect food for his/her little ones.

I went back inside and changed the bloodied plaster again. As I was putting things in the kitchen waste bag, I was so glad to see Carer Maryham arrive. She immediately mentioned how white I looked and asked if I was alright. Then she saw the blood coming from the plaster. She replaced it, and again, I tried the shaving lotion to try and stop it. No joy. 
Maryham wanted to ring for an ambulance, which I was against. It had to stop eventually. I suggested she rang 111 for me to get advice. I couldn’t hear the conversation, but Maryham said they were sending an ambulance. 
While waiting two hours later, Sister Jane called to see if I was alright. She’d had a call from someone about me having an ambulance for a head wound. 

The 111 lady rang Maryham back. They talked, and Maryham said we’ve got to get a clean cloth and press and hold it firmly on the wound (which apparently was the size of a small pimple) for at least ten minutes. If it stops or continues to bleed, ring them back to inform them. So, I had ten minutes holding and pressing a cloth on the pimple, and Maryham said the blood was barely leaking now. She rang 111 back, and they cancelled the ambulance, thank heavens. And thank heavens for Maryham. When she arrived, she was just finishing her shift and had to phone someone to take her young daughter to the nursery school. Bless her! I insisted she had some nibbles and a drinkie, at least. Saved the day she did! 🤎

The next few hours, well, almost as soon as Maryham left, I got Dizzy Dennis, Fog-Minded-Francis and went into so many flipping seizures and or mind blanks that I got to the stage of wishing the ambulance had come now.

When Carer Joanne came, things got better. Listening to her tell me about the horrible fall she had last night was like bonding—a double bonding, actually. She also has a catheter. There have been no more seizures after this—up to now.
The Social Prescribing team lady rang. I explained that Carer Carer was on holiday and could not assist me with the questionnaire. She was understanding. I rang Jane back to tell her about the incidents, and I was alright.

I’m blogging away, but for an unknown reason, my sight was far more blurred than it had been. It was hard work—and still is. It could be due to the banged head, but I hope it clears soon. This is not good.

Carer Chris arrived. He gave me my medications and put the bulb back in the socket, but I was too nervous to put the light on anyway because it was so loose.

The NCC electrician arrived. A cheerful young lady. She replaced the lighting connections, and now I have light!
Someone famous once said that… didn’t they?

Late now. Gonna get some grub!
I got many electric shocks from the left ankle over the next three hours. (I spoke to soon?)

The chips in the oven were nowhere near cooked, so I took what was meant to be one snap of the interesting getting dark night view of the sky. My habit of pareidoliaising was put into practice with these. Can you see the eyes of the creature? The dog’s head? I must get my eyes done again.
I got the meal served up. It was not one of my better ones, to say the least. The chips were not good. They were so bad I later threw away the rest of the bag from the freezer. Tsk!

Pareidoliaising, on the last Kodak of the day.
Can you see the creature coming from the left with its mouth open? Hehe!

Even I found them, although it did take me a bit longer than the estimated 10 seconds. Tsk!

Coup de grace, an Ode, art-deco,
May your follicles flow,
And any bad luck, never show, 
May you hang onto your Mojo,
May today’s events, each scenario,
Leave a warm afterglow.
Hoping everyone says to you, hello,
May the day show simpatico,
Be free of snide and innuendo,

My catheter’s full; I’ll have to go…

TTFN