– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
……….., erm, how can I explain? If I am able…
Some of my thoughts don’t seem to be translatable,
I can’t guarantee, or be sure, they are veridical,
Or even my own; does this sound plausible?
Dementia, Cognitive impairment, not only horrible…
But nervous-making, not controllable,
I tried grasping reality; it was not entirely feasible,
Does water on the brain make me mentally drownable?
Some people can be unintentionally smart-aleckal,
Not knowing why yourself can be tenuous, even mythical,
Mental gweilos in the head, that’s not theoretically,
I’d have laughed my head off at the thought, in 1963,
That was another me, no brain-dwellers then, I was free,
Now, I talk to myself, for it must be me, logically…
Begging myself for mental peace or an amnesty,
I find my brain often communicates antagonistically,
Seizures, ailments, just won’t back away…
Sometimes I ask myself, why have the neurosurgery?
I’ve awaited the Glaucoma lasering since 2023,
My rare self-sympathy is so cringeworthy!
1972, the last year I felt anything like Christmassy,
What happened then? Someone shot me in my knee,
Nothing changes, I’ve no Christmas tree,
But shame and guilt, I have aplenty!
If I were a Catholic, I could do a confessionary,
Tell them at thirteen I lost my cherry,
To a 46-year-old neighbour, her name was Sally,
Why, how did I manage it? That’s not a mystery,
The first time viewing of what she showed me!
I was excited, satiated, she laughed at poor little Inchy!
We met weekly, collaboratively,
Something else that bugged me incessantly…
Well, more so now, Earth’s warlike history,
It’s going to happen again, more seriously,
Again, World leaders are showing complacency,
But little clemency, compassion or coherency,
So many more this time are acting bodaciously,
They’ve created a worldwide mamihlapinatapai!
Assuring that if not all, billions will die!
Because politicians are part of the WW narcokleptocracy,
Any input from minions like me is nugatory,
With their parsimonious greed and profligacy…
Oh, I lost the plot of this cacography,
Not unexpectedly, but again, I’m sorry!
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –

A quickie today. I got carried away with the day’s Ode.

I rose and did a double back flip off of the bed and over the c1966, £300 Oxfam charity shop-bought, wincingly grotty, beige-coloured, crumb-covered from my nocturnal nibblings, itch-making, uncomfortable, positively unhealthy, and dangerous, no longer operational, virus-breeding, easy-to-fall-out-of, Catheter-tube-trapping recliner, landing perfectly, and yodelled for a few minutes on the balcony.
Ahem!

Better colour today.

Carer Ejaz arrived. Medications issued, sock put on. But later found they were not diabetic ones and the leg wounds flared up… or should that be flared up?
Carer Mizra changed them on the lunchtime visit for me, back to diabetic ones. Ordered some more later on in the day.

The mini seizures came on earlier today. I got confused after each one, and there were so many again. At times, one after another.

Popped out on the balcony later. Took these snaps.

I took the first of my Detox tea bags this morning. The cheaper ones. They had to be made using cold water. And left for 30 minutes. So I did. 
Aorted the waste bags out, and paid a messy, slimy, runny Trotsky Terence visit to the Porcelain Throne.
Back to get the brew, and squeezed the bag, and it burst open. Bits of seed and grass all over the cooker, me and the floor. I cleaned the mess and investigated the details on the other Detox teabag box.
This one is made with boiling water, I needed to steep it for 15-20minutes. It said I could add honey or lemon juice to flavour the drink. So, I did. Lemon
The top cheaper ones that exploded were two a day. This one was once a day. Tasted okay with the lemon added to it. Oh, it must be sipped, not drunk.

A later-than-ever start on the blog today. And with the seizures being so furiously rampant, not that they bothered me too much; it was the after effects that put me in a right confused state. However, I pressed on, ever correcting errors, but I think I enjoyed doing it. The Ode took me so long, I thought I might need another shave and shampoo. Hahaha!

I was baffled. Then I realised I might have hit the wrong key combination, which possibly caused this dilemma. The self-hating turned itself on. I waited and waited, but after half an hour, the completion rate had only gone up to 76%. Was I bothered? Of course I was! I sat here at the computer for another ten minutes, and it was still showing as 76%.

I couldn’t, didn’t have the means to turn it off via Windows. Then I think the screen flashed, inverted or wobbled threateningly.
My mechanical heart missed a beat!
I thought I was on the verge of losing my computer. Although something happens every day that makes me think this, this time I was sure it would snuff it – when the % went back down to 55% in an instant.
Deepened. Terrible thoughts floated around my head. In there, from somewhere, I got a memory prompt telling me I had not made a will yet?
It was the horriblest feeling of the week. And that’s taking into consideration Tuesday and Wednesday’s soul-destroying events. I didn’t think or expect to have such nightmares again, as soon as this. I was wrong, of course. I made a mug of tea and drank it, brooding over my failures, my own limitations, uselessness and so on.
And the scene went blank, then off. Very slowly and with a jumpy restart, the computer restarted – but only as far as the blue crash screen; with a new system laid out to get the computer restarted.

After losing more hours, I had no choice but to risk turning it off at the plug. I was more scared of making a wrong selection amongst the strange options that were on the screen.
So, I did! And with an unexpected lack of fear. I angrily accepted that this is the end of the world-famous blog. My fans from over the globe will be distraught. Both of them.
I left the computer turned off for about 15 minutes and then rebooted it.
The old blue start-up screen returned with the known options to select! And Wallah!
The main page came up, and I opened Google. Then, my impending joy was cut short when I opened CorelDraw—it froze!

Carer Mizra called and took the socks off, gave me Peptc and got the nocturnal catheter bag out for me to use later. After the lad had gone (up to now), I have not had another seizure. Great!

I pondered whether or not to bother making a meal. I was tired and more drained than usual. Cooking might be a risk. I decided not to make a meal. Just had a yoghourt and a bag (or two) of Frazzle crisps. I don’t feel terribly hungry anyway.
But so weary, unbelievably so. I made a brew of tea and sat to watch some TV. Nearly 21:00hrs already.

Back in the morning with an update on the event in case anything interesting happens. (As if? Hehehe!)

Two editions of Red Dwarf were just starting on TV. I was so pleased, and got myself into a comfortable position as is possible in the incommodious, uncomfortable, cumbrous, toe-curling, cringe-making, second or third-hand bought from the Oxfam Charity shop, Cathleen-Catheter-Tube-Crushing, hurtful for Harold’s Haemorrhoids, germ-ridden, Horrendously grungy, uncomfortable, not-working recliner… and fell into a deep yet dream-filled sleep. When I stirred, the light from the TV enhanced the shock of doing so, I believed it must be getting up time already… But, No! Red Dwarf began at 21:00hrs, and the credits were rolling for the end of the second episode. So all that dreaming, albeit seemingly restful as well, had lasted for 1 hour and 40 minutes.
As I was trying to get back into the land of Morphius, who came calling on me? ! I got the Toothache tincture spray and used it. Tiffany was getting naughty with it, and I took a Codeine 30g as well..
.

I decided to mount the oooospital bed. Climbing into it, while crossing my fingers that nobody telephoned me, took a concerted effort. Why? Cartilage Chloe! The moment I got up to get the tincture to counter Toothache Tiffany, Chloe kicked off distributing her aches and pains, and she’s still at it now – I likely twisted her into action, climbing into the bed. Sunday morning 08:50hrs! Then, by the time I actually got into bed, the task of getting that into a comfortable position was somewhat challenging. Why? Well, it’s complicated, slightly similar to the Labour Government, but not as bad or crooked. I cannot reach the light switch from the bed, so I use a wind-up torch to see the controls on the bed movement panel. But I dropped it and it fell down the gap between the bed and the wall.
Trying to manipulate the controls using the torch was bad enough, but things got worse. I dropped the wired bed control box, and it bounced into the dark depths of under the bed.
I made do with the indulated rippled state of the bed. But could I get to sleep? No! The three main reasons? Toothache Tiffany, Cartilage Chloe and Thought Storming Steve – then, as if to put the cream on the cake, Anne Gyna joined in.
I’d been planning on getting some sleep for about four hours. Two hours in the recliner and two in bed. It was almost a blessing when I had to get up to utilise the . I gave myself a en route. All but tripped over treading on the dropped control panel wire, and arrived at the wet room, only to trip over my walking stick! .
I didn’t get sat down in time!
Had Constipation Conrad been in charge, I’d have missed this pleasure. But, Trotsky Terence returned instead. Splatt! Spray! Soggy mess to clean up.

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Wishing You Peace, Pleasure & Paradisaicness!
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TTFNski