STARMERS FUTURE
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On the humorous side…
I’m not in control nowadays, just a minimum,
Vascular Diabetic Doreen is tinkling with my cerebrum,
Harold’s Haemorrhoids controlling my bleeding bum,
Bleeding from cracked teeth, lips and gum,
Seizures leave me lost and numb,
Uneducated… what’s a quasi-isomorphism?
Between me then and now lies an impassable chasm,
I’ve lost my freedom, thus enthusiasm
But I’m still moderately skilled in sarcasm,
I was fully committed to activism…
I could do it now on a good day, but they’re seldom,
I’m still well-known for my altruism,
Gone are my days of professionalism…
Doing my ablutions? Best described as gruesome,
I fought and beat off alcoholism!
But struggle to free myself from fatalism,
Dictatorship, Communism or Capitalism?
All addicted to despotism and materialism,
Oligarchal, favouritism, federalism, feudalism,
Earthlings will never adopt pacifism…
I view hope for this earth with scepticism,
Why do I bother? I must be dumb,
No wonder I’m feeling so glum,
Will St Peter do humankind’s postmortem?
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0530hrs: I stirred from my broken sleep for maybe the twentieth time and decided to give up on sleep and get up. I was well pleased with the limited hassle I got from Cartilage Chloe as I hoisted my mega-sized, wobbly-bodied torso onto my feet. I felt much better than I did on yesterday’s rebirth into the torture of another day in my Nottingham-located Cell 72… no, flat, flat 72! My balance seemed much better, too!
I pondered on what the day may hold for me. It was a scary moment as my confidentless mind mused merrily over various possibilities and what mode of Accidauxpas or Whoopsiedangleplop would arrive first. I decided to get the nocturnal pouch off the day bag first, then check to see if I’d left anything like taps running overnight again. If I find the hot water tap running this morning, it will be for the third day on the trot.
I got my slippers on (painfully) and meandered to the kitchenette to check the things in there. Much to my relief, I found I’d not left the hot or cold tap running. I got the kettle on and photographed the foggy, dark, dank morning. The light was from some property. It looked a little like it could be the sky, but it wasn’t; in view that couldn’t be seen were Nottinghamian’s dwellings, roads, and streets. Possibly a few burglars at work, drunks still making their way home, muggers lurking, drug deals taking place, and many Nottinghamians, perhaps still sobering up from the Christmas Day party? I made the brew of Glengettie and turned to get the milk from the fridge.
I found I’d left the fridge door open and the freezer one, too!
Which expletive should I use? To reveal exactly how I felt at that moment. Disappointment, self-loathing, frustration, irritation, disquietude, perturbation, self-condemnation, self-commination, blameworthiness or guilt?
I suppose any one or all of them. I chuntered away, swearing silently, lambasting myself. My spirits took another dip when I found that most of the frozen food was no longer frozen, and a puddle had poured out onto the kitchen floor that I had not noticed and had walked all over the kitchen floor.

Mopping up while using a walking stick is not one of the most straightforward jobs. But I cheerfully spent over an hour whistling and singing as I mopped it up.

A few more street lights can be seen in this second photograph of the early but not-so-early morning view from the kitchenette.

Made a brew; I’ll get to drink one soon. I took it to the computer and reset my old-fashioned calendar clock.

Carer Richard arrived. The lad looked and sounded done for after his shift; I was his last call. I didn’t keep him waiting about this time like I did yesterday. He still has two leg braces on and is using a crutch-walker. I did not ask him to put the diabetic socks on for me. Bending does the lad and me no good. I’ll ask a later Carer to put the socks on, providing that I remember to, of course!

After Richard had departed on his way to a much-needed sleep, I had to pay the wet room a visit. I anticipated more trouble like yesterday from a Trotsky Terence session. I didn’t waste a second in getting in there, just in case of any unanticipated droppages before I could get myself seated.
But no! Another reversal in controller this time. Was back in charge! I sat there urging, painfully pushing, to encourage the monster torpedo to move; it got stuck at what felt like an inch of the way out. Refusing to budge any further!
I got the crossword book to help kill the waiting time but couldn’t resolve any clues. A while later, the monster moved. Gawd, it was a whopper! It must have taken a full minute to complete its escape. Massive it was! There was a tiny bit of bleeding from the haemorrhoids. I cleaned up and medicated. Naturally, the mug of tea had gone cold again.

So, I went back into the kitchen to make another one. I took another snap of the fog out there. It looks just the same now as I write this 4 hours later.

I did the morning BP test earlier, which produced the following results. SYS 151 DIA 70 Pulse 72, Temp 34.8 Level: HYPER
I did the evening check earlier than usual. SYS 144 DIA 68 Pulse 74, Temp 34.7 Level: Normal High, better!

I inspected the freezer to see if anything could be risked using and what needed dishing. A costly decision to do that. But better safe than sorry. I left the thawed-out bread and cobs in there; I think they can be refrozen safely. I took the bag of throw-outs to the waste chute and threw them in.
No trapped fingers this time!

Carer Sham called. I hadn’t seen her for months, and I got the feeling she didn’t want to be here (which was natural). But I managed to make her smile once. She was treated as all Carers were at Christmas. She left smilingly anyway. 

What An Amazing Session This Was!
Do you notice the acute lack of any shaving cuts in this photo on the right? Not a single one!
Then, I did the teggies and nasal spraying.
Before moving on to the joy of a good shower, I had to remove the muslin day catheter bag cover from the pouch and leg. 2: I got it off in what must have been a record time; at least, it seemed like it to me. (Although, I suppose there was a slight chance that I had a mini-seizure)
No Dizzies with the bending down, 3 no knocking anything off the floor cabinet, 4 no bruises or cuts. 5 No tearing of the mesh. 6 or accidents with the release valve. Brilliant!
Fair enough, I did tug at the tube stuck in Little Inchie, which caused me some pain… But 7, no bleeding!
I even adjusted the top two straps without causing any pain or harm. 8. Then, turn the shower power on in the hallway and collect the towel from the slow heater.
Turned the shower on. Got underneath the showerhead and carbolic soaped my blubbery-bellied body and ultra-thin bony legs and arms for ages. I wallowed in the shower.
I really enjoyed it!.
Showering was complete, so I set about drying off. First, the catheter contraption. I do that as advised using paper towels, I can’t remember why, but they told me to.
Then, my muscular young torso and bicep-ridden arms and legs.

I won’t bore you with the whole routine. If I did, I might not live long enough to finish it! Hehehe!
The first task was getting the Catheter Contraption back on.
This did not go as easily as taking it off in the first place or anywhere but according to plan. Getting a muslin cover on caused a tear or two while trying to thread the tube and bag through it. . I ended up with , and the
newly grown leg ulcer got a clout as I battled . I banged it against the corner of the floor cabinet. All the bending down set off bleeding. Still, I thought I’d done a decent job in the end with the catheter.
The other medications went alright. Even stopping the bleeding and ointmentating Little Inchies fungal lesion went okay. Painful, but okay!

1400hrs: And just look at the effect of the fog! Can’t even see the Christmas lights put there now. It could be dodgy for the Carers to get in. Or home!

Pigs in blankets, frozen and oven-cooked for 40 minutes. The paper-thin bacon evaporated from the sausage.

They’d left me alone for a time; I’d forgotten about them.

FURRY TWO OF THE WEEK

Dougs furry, Andy.
He’d just got back from the veterinarian.
He’s doing alright. Medication continues.
A characterful cat.
We all love him on WP.

I was weary, closed the computer that I was initially going to go back on, and fell asleep (bliss!) in the second-hand, £300, c1968, overwhelmingly sickening beige coloured, tatty, uncomfortable, wobbly, germ-producing, falling to pieces, food residue-collecting recliner.
I awoke with Carer Chris’s face in mine and a big smile on his mush, telling me he thought I’d snuffed it. Laughter from both parties. Hehehe!
I tried to stay awake to watch the football on TV, but I fell asleep and woke up in time to catch the ending credits of the film that followed the football. Grrr!
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