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Woke at about 07:20hrs. Lay there assessing the ailment’s situation; result: Worst: angina. 2nd: shared twixt sciatica & the back pains. 3rd: Toothache!
Didn’t have time to feel sorry for myself, as Carer arrived to encourage me to bear the pain and ease my elephantine body from the recliner. Where I’d fallen asleep, but not until late in the morning, and no sooner got up and regained my balance, had I to hobble hastily to the Porcelain Throne. Utterly convinced another tsunami was on the way. I was totally wrong.
I took a chunk out of the Carer’s time to urge the painful, constipated evacuation to get a move on. Then, in my haste to get back to the Carer, I took a snap of the dark gap to see if anything I needed medically had been knocked off amongst several items off of the back of the floor cabinet. The snap revealed very little identifiable. I got back to the Carer, who got the diabetic socks on, medications issued; PKs taken, being one morphine & one codeine. And a heat pad put on the back.
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Porcelain two attended to; harder than ever!
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Computer on, did the health checks, recorded them, and checked the notes for starting this job on this blog. Oh, I found the mobile: 11 texts and nine missed calls.
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Realised I’d not done yesterday’s blog, and got back on track… did I say back on track? Really, I went more off than on. I kept reading the notes I’d sent off, repeatedly doing things I realised I’d not done yet. I was all over the place, but seemed happy enough doing these things. Sorted the bins, hand-washed some socks, made up a water bottle, made a mug of Glengettie and left it to brew, forgetting all about it. Fitted a third and final visit to the Porcelain Throne in, Rock hard again. My  Haemorrhoids were bleeding. I put some potatoes in the crock-pot slow-cooker, on a low setting.
Unknowingly, I’d dipped the sleeve of my dressing gown in the soya and water. I wasn’t too much bothered; I didn’t swear or curse or feel sorry for myself… not even when I scalded a finger.
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After dropping the spoon, pot lid and banging my head against the open cupboard door, I went off track again. I decided that cooking, even the basics, was too dangerous a job for me. I decided (yes, it’s a rarity, but there you are) to order some Parsley Box ready meals. I stopped long ago, as they are not the best of meals; but I can heat them in the microwave relatively accident-free. I went on their site, and there was a special offer: two free meals and soups. Made up the order, went to pay, and to get the special freebies, I needed to spend another £15! and rather foolishly, I did. Clot of the first order, here!
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During the day, I lost my mobile again, my camera, and my remote control. I found the camera and realised I may not have enough ready cash to pay for taxis to and from the hospital tomorrow. This called for a concentrated search through my flat and coat pockets to gather all the coins and notes I could find.
I took a snap of the room I searched with the newly found camera, but I did a poor job of it. Then took a shot with the flash on.
That was slightly better, but not good, shame.
So, I tried taking a couple of photographs from the kitchenette window, the first one of the car park below. All spaces filled. Then I managed to drop the camera with ease. Agonised, and a few words of self-criticising nature were passed. Then I took a snap of my once-visited daily precious tree copse. Which was a mistake, cause it evoked a little self-pity and resentment in me, cause, I am no longer able or capable of making my daily hobble through it. I loved doing this.
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Off to the wetroom for a shave, teggie-cleaning and good scrub-up, and medicationalisationing areas, that are not to painful or dizzy creating to reach.
No cuts while shaving, but I did drop the razor twice. Freshened up with aftershave and body spray. Got barrier cream on a tissue, lifted up my mammoth flabby stomach, and applied the cream. Then around the genitals. Then applied the haemorrhoid cream to the piles.
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As I left to prepare the meal, I suddenly felt weary, all-in. But feeling hungry, I pressed on. Unbelievable, the amount of things I dropped, lost, or couldn’t find. I genuinely thought I was going bonkers… And still feeling so tired… Settling to eat the meal was its usual farce. I put the tray on the chair. Got my feet on the chair, the tray on my knee and feet up on the chair. No relaxing, though; I realised I had not yet found the remote to put the TV on. Feet down, tray back on the chair, and searched for the remote – I did find the torch, but not the remote. Then I dropped the remote as I sat on it and turned the TV on… that made me jump, hehe!
I almost started eating the meal, but I remembered I had not put the nocturnal pouch on the Catheter. Feet down, tray back on the chair, and fetched a light bag, attached it, and realised I’d got the wrong spectacles on, so while I was up, I swapped them so I could see the TV.
Settling to eat the meal, yet again, I put the tray on the chair. Got my feet on the chair, the tray on my knee and feet up on the chair.
By which time, the meal had dried out. Did not look the slightest bit appealing, and I’d lost my appetite.
Three-quarters went into the bin. Got up and washed the pots. Returned with a lemon-curd yoghourt, went back to get a spoon, back to the recliner. I got my feet on the chair, quilt over the legs, night pouch on the floor, and watched some lower league football matches I’d recorded yesterday. Then I turned off the TV and waited for sleep to arrive, hoping to get an early start in the morning.
To feel more up to preparing, dressing, and getting ready for the taxi to the hospital for cataract surgery. Fell asleep 6 hours later. Humph!
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