
Another of the repeated reluctant to get out of bed awakenings. Not sure how many times I nodded off again, but it was 07:30hrs when the Carer woke me with the sound of the admission intercom.
I got tangled up in the long tube from the nocturnal catheter pouch as I hobbled half-awake to the control panel in the mini-hallway. Clouted my right shoulder against the wall, trying not to fall. And Shaking-Shoulder-Shirley Dawned. She was on and off all day long. Can’t work out why she now hurts when shuddering too; up to two days ago, she didn’t at all.
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
The body rots,
Mental problems? Lots,
Bills, debts, no honeypots,
Failures disasters & hotchpots,
An HMG of oligarchs & idiots,
I won no lottery jackpots,
Senility, at a good rate of knots,
No more sex, but I get the hots,
Instead, I just wash the pots…
People replaced with AI & robots,
I’m getting more late-life crisis,
I need help, and/or diorthosis,
To cope with this late-life circus…
Want to see the early-blooming crocus,
Before I leave this hocus pocus…
To St Peter’s Gate; I am temerarious!
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
An uptight Sunday
But High-Mood-Horis, in his way,
kept Depression Darius at bay.
Naturally not for all day,
I do so love doing wordsmithery,
Although I’m ageing & getting doddery,
I’ve never ever won on the lottery…
But that doesn’t mean a lot to me,
Try to help others along my way,
Spread a little joy, every day,
I’ll merrily greet fading-away,
Forget the cardiopulmonary,
Being shot twice, once on my birthday,
To whom should I pray?
For a less painful, but peaceful day?
Putin? Trump, someone heavenly?
Forgive my foolery & foppery,
It’s the new medications you see…
I blame it mainly on my ancestry,
Many relatives have been locked away,
Called Mad-Houses, back in the day,
Lunatic asylum, nut farm for the barmy,
Now, a mental health facility,
The men in whitecoats missed Gerry,
Now, they want me sent to a facility…
A Residential Home is that for Inchie?
Lost the plot again, admittedly,
The telephone rang, interruptingly,
My bank wants to see me at the Trustee,
A bill to pay and not enough money…
I’ve heard nowt from the NHS Neurology,
Or from the Orthopaedic, at the QMC,
To check on my fractured knee,
Ah, well, I’ll make a mug of tea,
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
he’s alright.
more work on the Word Lists.
I rang the Car
or not. At first, she said that he had been; I was about to thank her and apologise, and she realised that, indeed, he had not been yet. He is on his way now. Fair enough, as long as I hadn’t forgotten.
Jenny rang me to say that someone from Age UK would be calling me at 11:30 hours, bless her again. She’d rang them and told them of my struggles. Bless her. 💟
are due to start again if the level gets lower.
She will contact Social Services to discuss whether anything can be done, what action, if any, is needed, and whether any decisions can be mandated. Other options to be addressed.
This is where the kind patient lady asked if I had considered going into a home. I said previously that I had fought against this happening. However, now things had got so much worse healthwise and helpwise, yes, although still semi-reluctantly, I would be willing, after discovering the ways & wherewithals of the home. I related the incident after the stroke when I was put into a home for 6 weeks to help me recover. I also mentioned my problems with the bank, arithmaphobia and an unaccountable fear of opening letters. I’ve a stack of them in the flat, but I’m too scared to open them. Why? I don’t know. And this is the first time I’ve revealed this problem to anyone other than Jenny.
So many difficulties, no solutions. I brought up the Virgin and EE problems as well. But so many, I’m not sure I made a lot of sense. At times, I forgot what I was saying in mid-sentence. I must have done myself no good with this interview. It probably scares them at the thought of putting me in their home?
Surgery phoned with new Warfarin dosages. Have I already said this? Errors galore.
TTFN
Sorry, this isn’t up to standard.
New worries came in, and fighting.
Darius was hard work, in a way.
Haveth a Good Day