Inchy Today: Wednesday 6th November 2024

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There is a reason for the lack of header graphics, and it has nothing to do with the computer, CorelDraw, or MS Excel.

I’ll tell yers…

I woke up feeling pretty good and started to update yesterday’s (Tues) blog. I was doing well… until just before the first Carer came. Shakes, Shivers, Electric Shocks, and Double Vision all kicked of together instantly. I could not type, let alone think what to type. I turned off the computer, wrapped a quilt around myself and got down on the second-hand, c1968, eyesorely-horrendously grungy beige-coloured, £300, charity shop bought, crumb-retaining, microorganism-microbe producing, gungy, moth-eaten, beige-coloured, non-working, bacillus encouraging, incommodious, Haemorrhoid Harold testing, c1968 recliner. I got an extra dressing gown and a woolly hat on and ensured that there was plenty of spring water to hand; food at that time was not an option. As Feeling Billious, Bill joined in on the ailments.

08:00hrs: Carer Sham, I think it was who came in. She showed surprise and concern at how deathly pale I looked and said the shivering was noticeable.
She rearranged the quilt over me, put on the diabetic socks, and made sure I had the emergency wristlet alarm on.

Poorly as I felt, I could only manage the odd few minutes of sleep before springing awake. The shakes and shivers did not relent. My stomach was now rumbling, I tried to get up to go to the toilet, but the Cartilages gave way, so I had to stay where I was, hoping to avoid another embarrassment.
Around 12:00hrs, Carer Chloe, I think, arrived.
She got the quilt off of the bed to wrap me up snuggly.

The brain was not working correctly; sleep still resisting.

17:00 hrs: The caregiver arrived. Chloe, again, I think it was. No, Kimberley. She made another bottle of spring water for me; I had a thirst like never before. I asked her to put the night pouch on earlier than usual because bending down to empty the little day bag so often was painful in the hope of getting some sleep.

I sat there, wrapped up, shivering and shaking for 13 hours or so. But precious little sleep. 

I did nod off for a time late on. I woke in need of the Porcelain Throne. I unwrapped myself, noticing the shivering was no longer with me. The shaking was, but far less severe. But the cartilage had fooled me before, so I used two sticks to get to the WC. It was a Trotsky Terence job again.

So, feeling better, I got on the computer to finish what bit of a blog I’d done for Tuesday and posted it.

Got back on the c1968, non-operational, tatty, scruffy, unkempt, uncomfortable, germ-breeding, Harold Haemorrhoid-Testing, sickenly beige-coloured recliner, and tried failingly to get some sleep again.

Around 04:00hrs, I gingerly rose from the second-hand, c1968, eyesorely-horrendously grungy beige-coloured, £300, charity shop bought, crumb-retaining, microorganism-microbe producing, gungy, moth-eaten, beige-coloured, non-working, bacillus encouraging, incommodious, Haemorrhoid Harold testing, Catheter-Tube-Tugging c1968 recliner.

I was more with it now; the state of the flat shocked me! A tray that presumably had food that I can’t remember eating, the bed quilts all over the place, and bits of tissue all over the floor. And, honestly, eight empty Frazzle packets were in the bin! The picker-upperer, shoe horn, an empty water bottle, well, two of them, and the returned laundry bag that I knew nothing about were on the floor.

Evening… or morning, all!