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I bent to release the nocturnal catheter pouch. The bag was a little fuller this morning, considering I’d only been in bed for about four hours. Yesterday’s not being a happy laddie
counted the cracks I could see on the ceiling. It amazes me how I seem to get a different number each time. And I suppose. 23 today.
The
I got the Derma cream under the arms, man
Then moved on and gave a good rubbing in of the Phorpain gel to
Still, being of excellent pain tolerance, a twerp, and so brave with it, it didn’t worry in the least, not one bit!
Then
Now, the shaving needs to be done. I wondered how long I’d already spent doing the ablutions. I reckon I was already over two hours and still had to shave and dress.
With either knee being liable to give way, my left leg is so painful to lift up.
Always a risk and or possibility.
On routine, I set about the tried, tested, but often failing ‘get-the-pants’. I wedged my rear end against the sink, with
the small Plastic Pickerupper Paul. I was gobsmacked at how easily I got my right foot in the pants. Might not be so bad, I thought to myself… What a plonker!
I all but went over when I first tried to lift the left leg up high enough to get the foot in the pants. On about my third attempt, I was getting frustrated, to say the least. Not necessarily because I couldn’t get the foot in; this is a regular problem, but with the pain I was going through trying to!
I tried one last time and was prepared that the pants would stay off if this did not work! Which, of course, is not on if Little Inchies fungal Lesion bleeds, as it often does, hence the PPs in the first place; it could be bloody and embarrassing if a Carer or nurse was here when it flowed down my legs, over the catheter bag and pouch, onto my foot and then the carpet!
There’s no other word for this; Lifting the leg with one hand holding the sink and the other with a picker-upperer and the walking stick was bloody painful! One final effort, a grimace, a few curses and both legs were in!
I was shattered! Aching all over. I felt like I’d been up for hours; in reality, it was about three hours of angst and pain, but at last, it was all over… until the morning, it’ll start over again!
I actually chirped up a little later, Yes! Then again, I usually do if get on the computer, and even more so when the eyes are as clear as they can be, and I can see the keyboard and the letters. But at the back of my demented brain, I know that come midday, the double vision will return. (It did)
Carer Richard arrived minutes after I turned on the computer. I patiently waited for CorelDraw to load up —no, that’s another fib. Richard got the medications sorted out, but I forgot to ask him to take of the diabetic sock, so it will have to stay on until tonight when a Carer can take it off if I remember to ask him or her. I bet it reeks a bit!
I returned to the computer and steadily progressed with the extra blog of old cartoons blog. Then, a sudden… well, fear came over me. Had I left the hot water tap running again? I hobbled hastily to check.
All was okay. After yesterday’s farcical, imbecilic three times of letting the tap run cold, my confidence was at a low ebb. I checked several times today, but up until now, I have not left the hot water tap (faucet) running. At least today, I got a wash and shave with hot water available. Despite spending nearly four hours in the wet room in agony, at least I got the cleaning and medicating done.
I had a mammoth,
I took this shot through the kitchenette windows.
I took the brew to my beloved but poorly
I like Yeo Valley organic milk and have tried it a few times. As instructed by the Doctor, I’m keeping within her demands that I have only two mugs of tea a day.
The bag tore off of the catheter pouch; it was so full!!! It had filled up so quickly.
It’s a darned good job that Carer Kara keeps a supply in stock for me.
Now I’ll have to pack up on the blogging. My vision is getting much worse.
.
Back to finish off in the morning – I hope!
I’m back…
Carer Chris arrived. Tucked into the nibbles and drinkies, but he was in a rush, poor lad.
He turned down the heat on the oven. And I watched part of one episode of the old Heartbeat on the resistance to making a link, unwanted and needed, overpriced Virgin Media fibre TV.
Followed by a naughty but nice Lemon and cream Bliss.
Tired? Me? YES!
TTFN each. 🤔
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The ode speaks of a weariness of struggling through. I’ve had the privilege of journeying with a few people who’d reached the end of life, their common reflection in last days was one of relief to be finally laying down and not struggling. One thing I picked up on this time and whch has cropped up before, is that you say you’ve not done anything. But I’ve spent some years reflecting on that (I call it a shibboleth) I think just being who we are is our starting point, and then we gild it with all sorts of experiences, not least writing, which you do. 🙂
Well worked out, Paul.
If dear mother had welcomed me a little better, things may have been better.
Cheers, Paul.
🙂
You’re facing things, Inchy. Hang in there.
I’m hanging, thank you Sir.