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Life has so many distractions,
And more than enough perceptions,
Of our needs and conceptions,
There’s a shortage of antediluvians,
Enforced bourgeoisification’s,
Wayward silly compunctions…
So many mental configurations,
Constant demoralisations…
Neurological dysfunctions,
I lose it if I get any distractions…
Short-term memories? Become delusions,
Taps left running when I do the ablutions,
Fridge and freezer doors left open frustrations!
Sleep & rest are not in my programme,
My parents were plebs, not patricians,
I’m envious of quinquagenarians,
Coping with mental maelstroms…
Like this ode, life has too many idioms,
Are there any cope-with-life’ enchiridions?
No avoiding the gloom and dissensions,
Rubbish issued by the epistolarians,
Lies from Starmer & his MP archvillains,
And I’m in a mess with my prescriptions!
No signs or hopes of any augmentations,
I struggle with life’s daily cacodaemons,
Will I end up in Hell’s cauldrons?
Many old men turn into curmudgeons,
My depressions are darker, not cerulean,
My ponderations are labyrinthian,
But I give the Carers my laudation!
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Gawd Strewth!
What’s going on here? Now rest, no time, hassle, botherations… and unbelievably busy!
Contacted by email, telephone, or text today, and all needed time and concentration to decide what was what. I think I was in a spate of mini-seizures when each contact was made.
I got myself into a good het-up state, all worked up, and believe it or not, I lost the page with the details of each call from the notebook. Unreal!
I can’t recall many details, and this list I’ve dragged from my not-interested-brains memory box will likely be out of sync timewise.
Obviously, the domestic work of cleaning the wet room has still not been completed, after five days of hoping to find the time and struggling to catch up with my beloved blogging. I may have missed one or two off of the list.
Location: On the toilet – The landline rang.
I got to it too late. Darn-it!

Location: In the kitchen. The mobile rang.
I got to it in time, but I could not even recognise the voice of Caroline, the Doctor’s Surgery Nurse.
She rang back on the landline. She asked many questions about my health & concerns, bless her.
She will see me, possibly next week, but I’ve forgotten the date on the magically disappearing note sheet. She is going to put me through a  Cognition Test regarding the dementia.

Location: On the Computer: The bank called; they would like me to call in the bank and speak with them. I explained the changes I was in at home, and they said to ring back when things have calmed down… Calm Down? For Me? Come on, “I’m obviously fated to confusion, tiredness and depression along with the seizures for however long I’ve got left”

Location Kitchenette: The Social lady called on the mobile. I can’t recall who it was or what was said, but it sounded like her voice. I asked if whoever it was could ring on the landline. But they did not call back. I was having a seizure at the time.

Location: In the wet-room, changing protection pants… I had a leak.
The door chime rang out. But when I got to the door, nobody was there. On the way back in, I knocked over the airer, which fell onto the second airer, and they both collapsed together. I then had to sort out 11 pairs of socks back into matching pairs and relay them on the airers. I didn’t mind at all. Liar!

Location: When the mobile burst into life, I was bent down at the freezer, trying to find the boil-in-the-bag of beef in gravy. British Gas couldn’t understand a word he or it said.

So many photos would not fit today. Well, wouldn’t save to file for me?

I need help again. I won’t be a happy chappie if things don’t get less harassing, gloomy, and mistake-ridden, or Anne Gyna and the Seizures don’t give me a break. I’ll have to stop doing this blog!

If it’s not CorelDraw, it’s Sandra’s Seizures, Glaucoma Gladys, etc. Something is always costing me precious time every day. I don’t think I can carry on much longer, and I’m not sure I want to.
It’s getting to me. Far less often does visit me nowadays.

Everything is a failure and hard work. I’m struggling with everything now. Nothing is getting solved, cured, or any easier or better. Sorry I had to say this!
I need so much help. I appreciate that it will not be coming. I’ll try to continue, even if it’s only an Ode now and then.
I have to accept how things are, I know. But is it worth it? Sorry again.

Morning.

Minutes later.

I sorted the clothes scattered all over the place to dry when they had been returned from the laundry. Taking this shot caused me a nasty near-tumble. Thankfully, Carer Ahmed helped me.

Bottom field and houses with some people who have family, can walk unaided, get their Glaucoma operated on, clean their wetrooms, possible have a computer or know how to get help with it when it plays up, maybe they don’t have a mechanical heart aorta, legs bandaged to counter the attentions of , both & giving way, in both knees, , , , , both their hearing aid broken at the same time. With , ,  , suffer from , , Taking Tumbles, a day, to keep the doctor away, , , , , , , , , , , use a , or take about two hours to get their done, or have .
Or any of my less frequent visitors, like , Four times a day (8) self- administered ENOXAPRIN injections,, , , ,
Is it a sticking valve, a present after the heart operation, or alternating between each visit with ?
I feel awkward & awful now! Tsk!

My Worst Depression Ever!
I’m embarrassed! But this is what I wrote while in a mega-depression. I hope the doctor reads it.

It’s brightening up a bit.
I wish I was!

Ablutions medications were sorted.

Taken from the computer chair through the balcony. Taking this, Anne Gyna kicked off.

Lovely tasting nosh.

Many figures to be seen in these clouds.

Sister Jane in her early years! c.1953?

Sister Jane in my flat. 2021

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All The Best!
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