
I was sitting there, having a drink of Zinfandel,
I was depressed but not feeling suicidal,
Admittedly, I was finding life barely wadeable,
But why was I now thinking so depressional?
I need to cheer up but lack the wherewithal,
I’d gone from singing to feeling vincible…
I didn’t feel a part of anything tellural,
Then I’d turn all phlegmatic and stoical.
What had changed? Guilt, now I feel sacral,
Suddenly tired, so tired, feeling sardonical,
Accepting that life is but ephemeral…
High Horis visiting is so enjoyable…
Depression Duncan returns, he’s unshakeable,
But why? It’s all unanalysable,
Keeping calm may be advisable,
Arguing with myself again, I must be tactful,
PN hinders thought and movement transferral,
Doreen Dementia is also not terminatable,
High Horis returns! Seemingly therapeutical,
Mini-seizures; sometimes things get threnetical,
Ailments can prevent stuff from being doable…
Problems mental and physical,
What I’m going to say may sound unbelievable…
In a High Horis, life seems incredible…
The sensation I had was execrable…
I floated out of my body, extrinsical…
I looked at myself, existential…
A chance, of course, this could be dubitable
Which gave me a theme for this doggerel,
Are these events possible or circumstantial?
With my mental ailments, possibly corporeal?
Another seizure then found a new carbuncle,
In a rear area just below my belt buckle!
As bad as things are, I still had to chuckle!
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03:10hrs: I bounded out of bed, somersaulted over the c1966, £300 charity shop bought second-hand, wincingly grotty, beige coloured, not working, crumb-covered from the nocturnal nibbling, itch-making, uncomfortable, virus-breeding, easy-to-fall-out-of, recliner, landing safely by genuflecting my knees at the perfect time. Yodelled, and…
Oh, well, alright then…
03:10hrs: I struggled to remove the nocturnal catheter pouch from the day bag. Then, I struggled even more to get my legs off the bed, knocking my walking stick over (I’ll get it in the neck for making noise this early from Marie, who lives below, next time I see her!), as both Cartilages and Arthur Itis didn’t seem to appreciate my sleeping in the hospital bed and were giving me some gip. I sang out as I stubbed my toe on the Ottoman… Twice!
The first thing I tackled was pouring jugs of hot water, washing-up liquid, and Dettol into the grey bowl that my plates of meat fit into. To soak/wash them while doing my
Constipation Conrad ruled absolute this morning. It was pure agony.
I tried to expedite the process, but the evacuation was very slow going. My head was going dizzy with the pain and effort needed to encourage some movement. Eventually, the motion began, but it got stuck part-way!
Oh, what a painful morning!
I felt like I’d been on the toilet for an hour or more.
Suddenly, but oh, so slowly, the torpedo, it felt more like a submarine, quarter-inched its way out.
It plonked into the bowl with a thud.
There was a fair bit of blood!
From
Then, I made a brave decision. (Yes!) Little Inchies Fungal Lesion would be done next! Get more pain out of the way. I usually leave it until last, as it is the most painful one to do.
Ugleklump! Cragnackles! That hurt!
Oh, I am good! Hehe!
I’ve been using this graphic of the small picker-upperer on and off for years. I’ve only just noticed that I had spelt ‘picker’ wrongly. Tsk!
Carer Ejaz made the first call of the day. Diabetic socks and medications were sorted out.
Struggled with updating the Friday post.
Well into teatime before I’d got it done.
Today, the above Ode cost me a few hours. Chiefly due to repeated mini-seizures and my mind wandering, I found myself scripting while I was out of it. So many corrections to be made. I may have missed some as the fog dawned in my head.
I got carried away searching for an old photo of myself to use on a future blog. More hours lost.
I spent too long thinking of and getting the photos cleaned up a smidgen; here they are.
Then I took one taken earlier this year.
This sent me off on an unpleasant tangent.
Guilt and shame showered over me for my past actions. However, it clarified the reason for my bad luck and the mental and physical pains I now experience. Truth is, I deserve them. This afternoon, I found myself unself-pitiable.
A kind of freedom lingered, of acceptability.
I hope I can experience this feeling of peace again.
Carer Mizra did the second call. Confusion over medications. Mizra’s second time of calling. She put the socks on and creamed the right ankles
I think I made a Sainsbury or Ocado order later on. I’ll need to verify this tonight.
Carer Rozma did the last two calls. I was having mini-seizures on both calls. It’s only through the scribbled notes on the pad that I remembered he’d called.
What a change in the view!
My belated meal
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Up The NHS – Bless!
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