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And I thought the last two days were busy!
Today was busier than both!
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At least I can read the memory pad notes easier, cause I’m doing this in the morning. (Tuesday morning) The eyes have not begun to blur badly. They will later.

Not knowing what was to come, I started the day with the help of a visitation. The first hour or so was…well, fantastic!
Catheter Pouch off. Bins sorted. Ablutions were tended to. It was in charge this time. But the pain and effort needed didn’t bother me at all, not with in attendance. While I was almost playfully fighting to get the torpedo to flow, I remembered the Cancer-phoo-test-kit. So I stopped before the torpedo appeared to fetch the kit.
I tried to force the submarine out again. Again, it didn’t bother me, with Horis on site. All went well, and I got it done, bagged and in the envelope and sealed. Just as the intercom burst into life, Carer Ejaz rang to be admitted. And as I left the wetroom after checking it for taps running, I met him in the mini-hallway.
Ejaz checked the sample and took it with him to post it for me. Dealt out the medications. Phorpain gelled my shoulder, & lower back and . Which also helped with Arthur Itis, and’s pains eased a little. I thanked him, and off he went, throwing me a ‘Tara’ as he left.

Then things went a little out of sync, and things got busier, much busier. In fact, scarpered post-haste, and at the same time
Although the git stayed with me for the rest of the day. I had so many other things to sort or try to, as you will see, the cacophony of cruel interruptions had an inexhaustibility never known before. My blogging efforts were abandoned. They flowed in one after another, unintermittedly, back-to-back, incessantly… But I’m Not Complaining! Just mentioning.

ONE: 25 minutes; (Welcomed) My sweetheart nurse arrived to check the state of my top-of-the-head wound. Replaced the dressing and said it could come off next week. Not the head, the plaster padding. Hehe! She also checked Little Inchie’s bleeding lesion; now that the Catheter has been relocated back to the left leg. At this point, from somewhere, by humour came forth as she was about to take down my fluffy protection pants, I quipped: Well, if you’re going to wash or medicate it, first you’ve got to find it…’ adding quickly, ‘Would you like to use my glasses or my spy glass?‘ I loved it when she burst of with a smile followed by a giggle. Hope she passes that one on to the other nurses. Haha!

TWO: 7 minutes; (Welcomed tentatively)
The agency INR Warfarin gal arrived, took the blood samples within 7 minutes, and left.
A Speedy Gonzalesess?

THREE: 7 minutes; Jenny 🤎 emailed about the Computer man. Always helpful that gal. 🤎

FOUR: 10 minutes; Ejaz made a call.

FIVE: 12 minutes; Someone from the Doctor’s surgery telephoned me on the landline. Saying I ought to ask a Carer to help me buy a head shaver, to avoid all the bangs and cuts I keep getting on my bonce.

SIX: 9 minutes; Someone else rang from the Doctor’s surgery, with the results of the INR Warfarin blood test and new dosages. Easy-peasy, 1½ each day.

SEVEN: 2hrs and a bit: It was a landline call from someone other than the person who rang earlier. We lost connection a few times, but the lady was patient each time and rang back. Bless her. I didn’t make a note of who it was, but gathered that the surgery is setting up a geriatrics panel to monitor old foggies like me, and see if anything can be done to assist us. She asked if I had any difficulties. 
Well, of I went, verbally, about the problems and things I can’t cope with. On and on I rambled. I didn’t want to miss the chance to let them know how I am struggling. Extra Carers’ hours and why. The laundry is not getting done, and I have had to bring it back up for three weeks now. Explaining that it is not the Carers’ fault. With so many hospital and clinic visits they have to go with me on, there’s no time left for laundry or cleaning. I mentioned my walking into the road having a seizure when we went to the Dentist. I got a little tongue-tied trying to recall what I wanted to say to give a proper picture of how I’m struggling. At times, I had to cope as  
The lady was kind and bore with my situation.🤎 
I told her of my seizure at the ENT. Also, of my escapade getting back from the Neurologist’s visit. Falling over in the tram, yobboes aggression in the slab square. I got the wrong bus and had to walk all the way back up Winchester Street Hill, stopping at least ten times to ease the pain in my chest. Dropping my mobile when the Carer at the flat was waiting for me to return. A stranger who helped me find the bus. Verbals from yobboes as they drove past. I assume I must have mentioned other things as well. Oh, yes, I think I mentioned that, although it has not been diagnosed, I do not need anyone to do that, I have developed Arithmaphobia. This is causing me financial problems. And most important to me is that it is handicapping me from doing my blog, which was just about the only thing keeping me going.
6 months ago, it took me an hour to do the template; now, we are talking 3 hours minimum. Depression is a result. Seizures in a day can range from 0 to 12. The shorter ones are taking so much longer to recover from. And recovering can take so long, during which I dare not stand up. I just wait until the vision and confusion go away. Then gingerly test out the balance; often, well, usually, I can judge it accurately. This brought to mind the time I woke up after having a nocturnal seizure and decided to stay where I was to give myself time to recuperate. But this happened during a time when Trotsky Terence was in control of the back passage and innards. I felt the gurgling and pressure on my rear end and got up quickly to the Porcekain Throne to avoid the often-occurring premature leakage. As I stood up, I collapsed as if I didn’t have any legs, landing on a waste bin, then down onto the floor with a thud. Pressed the alarm wristlet, Warden arrived, and paramedics were summoned. Off to the hospital, eight bones in the hand and wrist, five in the left knee. Heart failure 3 weeks later, while still in the hospital.
Also, a fear of opening letters, and I  have a mini-stack of them at my side now. I’m waiting for a Social Worker to call, and then I can show them. 

Ah, a breather… Erm, No…

EIGHT: 16 minutes:
Blooming ‘eck, hello-hello & Crikes!
Message from the Bank Manager!
Wanting me to arrange a visit, and take a Carer with me, as I did on the last one. No cause or reason given. Just said it was ‘Important & Urgent’. I tried to find out what it was for, but he was tight-lipped.
I’m Worried Now.

Finally, around 23:00hrs, I got something to eat.I dropped the tray in the kitchen!
Did I cry? No!
But I swore & cursed a bit!
Made do with some crispy nibbles.
I couldn’t eat biscuits cause of
Tired, weary, confused, worried,
The eyesight was fading fast.
Clambered gingerly into the bed.
Had to get up again to check if
I’d left the taps or the cooker on!
Then
kicked off. I realised that I’d not
put the night bag on when I felt the
flow-back pain. Got out of bed.
Grabbed the night pouch and
did some more swearing as I
got it fitted. All the time,
was
reminding me of past and 
present worries. Huh!
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TTFNski, Cheers!
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