Impatient Inchy: Sunday 9th June 2024 – Gloom!

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I’m sorry, but it’s another quickie blog. I’m afraid I got the depression glooms in the afternoon. I feel sorry for myself, and the Cartilage injury makes any movement painful. I think I may have to go to the hospital in the morning if there is no improvement. It’s a miserable day for a miserable Inchy! Grumpy, self-hating, and lonely curmudgeon. Hehe!

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Scary colour. Mind you, with the tumble, expected.

Late morning shots.

Feeling moppy. Got on with the blogging.

Med-morning urine – definitely blood in there!

Forced Missen to tidy the bed.

Took three snaps from the balcony Ahead, down and right.

The sun was covered for a while.

Put this old graphic on for some reason, or maybe it was no reason. Can’t think why.

Oh, dearie me. I felt the wet, warm sensation emanating from the Little Inchies area. The fungal lesion was bleeding now,
Took me ages to clean the lesion and stop the flow.
Then, the depression started.

I made a CorelDraw graphic using part of one I made last month. Was I trying to get a laugh, maybe?
I could do with getting one.

I missed the star, Humph!

Got some rostis & last of the fresh vegetables in the oven.
Turned off the computer. Feeling sorry for myself again.

I got an email from Lisa-Ellie. Such an angel she is. That made me feel guiltier at how I felt. ♥♥♥ All she copes with, I wonder what her star sign is?

I did make a little in preparing this one.
I forgot that the beef was in black beans, and I also cooked some vegetarian sausages. Ah, well, I ate it all up!
Yummylishious!

I got the things washed up and snuggled into the itch-creating, bruise-giving, catheter-tube-tugging, ageing, whiffy, crumb-decorated from my nocturnal nibbling, God-awfully uncomfortable, cringingly grotty, no longer working, dirty beige-coloured, anti-sleep I designed,  c1966, second-hand bought, for £300 ten years ago from the charity shop, recliner. I tried to stay awake so that I’d hear the door chime when the carer arrived to take my socks, attach the nocturnal bag to the day catheter bag, and slip me some painkillers. 

Apart from the odd few minutes of nodding, I stayed awake. I even turned the TV on, so the light from it helped me not to nod off. It was getting harder to resist temptations, so I rose from the £300 second-hand shop-purchased, c1966, welt-causing, uncomfortable, not-working, itch-inspirational, crumb-containing recliner and into the kitchenette, taking this shot.
But all was in vain! The Caregiver did not turn up, the same as last week. I must remember to check the bill when it comes in. But these things happen, as they did last week as well. He/she may have taken ill or had an accident.

Took me belatedly into his grasp!

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Arrivederci!