
Plans and hopes are undetermined,
Often, my thoughts are unwarranted,
My intentions remain unendorsed,
No outcomes are usually unassured!
Daily seizures are unprecedented…
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My brain? It cannot really be classified…
My bones & joints are crepitated,
In High Mood Horis, I’m almost contented,
Deep Depression Duncan often caprioled,
No one here, no chance of getting croodled,
Life is getting more circumscribed…
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There’s a hollowness when I get depressed,
I get sorry for myself, feel disadvantaged,
It may prompt wild things to be deliberated,
My thoughts get convoluted, disassembled,
A nasty DDD session can only be described…
As coffee that’s been decaffeinated.
I hate it, sickening until it’s departed!
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DDDD can’t be rectified or remedied,
It’s beyond being cured or rectified,
After it was analysed, I was repulsed,
Dementia inside cannot be resarciated,
I admit I felt forlorn, resigned…
The seizures & DDDD never retreated,
Another visit soon, to be reinvestigated,
I wonder if my brain can be reinstalled.
:::::
In High Mood Horis, I can feel stimulated,
Although that sounds a little sugar-coated,
To wild dreams & fantasies I succumbed,
DDDD returns, I get mentally spifflicated,
The longer the session, the more scunnered,
Mentally drained, and feel shanghaied,
Writing this ode, I’ve been shemozzled…
The DDDD has suddenly sequestered,
Blessedly to uncaringness I succumbed!
:::::
If Happy Horis stayed all day accommodated!
And DDDD could be disconnected, abdicated,
Then hopes & plans could be activated,
Then I could be far less aggravated!
And no doubt feel much less alienated,
But of course, DDDD can’t be amputated,
The damned DDD can’t even be ameliorated,
But I can get so frustrated and acerbated…
Realising that my needs can’t be assuaged,
Dreaming the Seizures may be assuaged
And Anne Gyna’s pains be abrogated!
:::::
Daily, I’m self-loathed and vilipended,
Verbally, I’m self-verberated,
Also, I get self-vulnerated,
Once, when I left the hot tap running, I vomited,
And again, was self-vociferated,
I believed I should be vapulated,
Had my sanity been vitiated?
I kid myself I am capably viveured,
I’ve still often get self-verbally-violated,
The line below: Can I be acquitted and vindicated?
I’d gladly see Starmer vivisepultured!
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Little got acheived.
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I found a few missing photos from yesterday’s internal memory of the Kodak Tim 2. Here they are.
Late evening shots from the kitchenette.
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Then, amazingly, at 15:00 or so, the vision came back quite suddenly. So I’m getting on with it, but naturally, I expect the return on
No shaving cuts today, yet. I didn’t have one! Dirty boy!
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Only photos to trigger the memory from here on.
I was merrily grafting away here. And I got that fearful, sudden-sinking feeling; I thought I had left the hot tap running again. I moved limpingly to the kitchen, and the catheter contraption fell down to almost my ankle! Arrgh!
The tug on Little Inchy was as near to excruciating as I wanted it to be. At least the tap was not running – but I’d left the fridge door open!
Now, the problems multiplied.
On the bright side, there usually is one if I look hard enough -at least I stayed, as wobbly as they were, on my feet.
Now I had water running out of the fridge, blood trickling
I abandoned the mess I created and got to the landline in time. Sister Jane talked about tonight’s Forest vs. Ipswich F.A. Cup game. She and Pete are going to it. (I watched it later; it’s still on the box, in extra time).
Then I went back to the kitchenette, and it wasn’t until then that
All I could hear was background noise. For anyone who knows me, to ring this late worried me. I thought it might be my sweetheart, Frank’s Jenny, or sister Jane. Jenny might have been in a pickle with something, like Jane. I’d got Jane’s number on auto dial on the landline, so I rang her first; as I did, I realised she would be at the football match. No surprise she didn’t answer. Then I rang Jenny. I know it was late, but she might have needed support or help, so I rang. She told me she was okay, and that was wonderful to hear. She spoke of the window cleaner situation at the flats and asked about the medical problem, and I told her I was waiting for Matron Jackie to visit me to explain about the seizures. Bless her for her caring nature ♥. Then Jane rang back. I was in total disarray. So many things were happening simultaneously, and I had little, if any, control over any of them.
Anne Gyna and
I had to give up sorting anything out. Concentration and confusion took over. I’ll try to finish this before I give up and get my head down. I’m so tired and weary now. Even
I’m not interested in eating at all. In the morning, I must ask the caregiver to redo/repair/replace the catheter for me.
I’ll get the out-of-sync photos on.
I’ve eaten nothing all day and am so tired. I think I’ll have some biscuits and get my head down.
Another busy day is coming up tomorrow.
Just what I need after today’s farcicalness!
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A Thought: Please make tomorrow less stressful. PLEASE!
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I’ve got
TTFN.
Those first three photos are like watercolours, they have a soft quality to them. Re the ode – if only such things could be amputated eh? What annoys me is that the politicians wank on about all sorts of extraneous junk, like exploring Mars, but they are unwilling to deal with the enduring issues of poverty, health, education and care.
The photos reminded me of water paintings, Paul.
I really feel for the youngsters future. Going to pot, would maybe a suitable word for the world. They ought to legalise it. Hehe!
Reading some of your comments, is like listening to my own thoughts, mate.
Thanks.
Ah, many thanks.
I’m crowd funding for several thousand camels – for a politician infestation of fleas lol
Hahaha! That made me smile… what an idea!
Your ode is a great description of life for you, Gerry, and the photos are nice. I sure hope tomorrow is less stressful for you.
Thanks a lot, Tim.
Each day brings new challenges. I can’t believe the things that are happening at the moment.
Bless you for caring, my cyber mate. 💗🙏🏻