SATURDAY’s POLITICAL CARTOON
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05:00hrs: When I stirred, I struggled with , for control of my brain. For I was aware (for once) of the need to rise and get lots of things that needed to be done; so as not to let down the Link bus driver by being late at the collection point. I was determined not to get myself into a pickle and keep calm, not get all agitated like yesterday afternoon when things went apeshit again. I really wanted to keep calm today, with an eye on my Blood Pressure to help me on my mission. (Had I known what lay ahead, I’d not have bothered! I rose with little difficulty and, at that time, was rather pleased with myself. Indeed, I was close to having a .
As soon as I got into the kitchen the
I’d left the hot water tap running in the sink! Cold water again – just on a morning I need to get a good shower and shave for the visit it the Doctor! Already the self-despising and anger were brewing! I cursed and swore for ages and had to take the decision to have stand-up wash teeth and shaving sessions, using water from the kettle and two saucepans. Carrying them into the wet room, back before the water got cold, to refill and get them on the stove and back again to the wet room several times was decidedly risky.
I paid the price. Blistered finger, scolded foot, and clouted my elbow on the corner of the cooker, dropping the luckily empty pan on the floor! My anger and frustrations were getting shameful now!.
I got through with the task pretty quickly; then again, I was still determined to. A few more little nicks when shaving, but the hands were like blurs as shaved away at warp speed!
Got medicated where needed, dressed, and out of the wet room to check on the pots and pans I’d used in the kitchen. I’d made a bit of a mess, but no time now to worry about that. I hoped whichever Carer came was early. Then I could ask for help with things… well, why not?
I had to return to the wet room. This typifies my rotten luck – things have been fone in the evacuation department. But just because I needed to rush… Four rock-solid giant H-Bomb-shaped escapees! One at a time! Each one was more painful and took me longer to force out. The last one was a battle and a half!
Bled so much, poor things. Even more, time was lost in cleaning and . I wasn’t sorry that was over!
0735hrs: ♫ Oh, Susan ♫ chimed up. At last, the Carer had arrived! Of course, Meridian Management had not sent her a message about coming earlier! Told me had she been advised, she could have gotten here earlier. Shame! Lovely Carer Sinead, it was today. She set to give me the medications first. Then help me with the cash for the bus fare. Even closed the tabs on the shoes for me when I asked. I insisted she take a drinkie and nibble of her choice in thanks when she left.
I avoided the problems for once, being in such a rush to get down in time for the lift..
I arrived with three minutes to spare in the ground floor lobby. And began a mega-long ait for the arrival of the Link bus. I was questioning if I’d got something wrong about the appointment after all? Nothing showed up… well, a squirrel did. Haha!
I waited for about an hour, then gave up and returned to the flat.
I got the magnifying glass and found the telephone number on the Link leaflet and gave them a call.
No one is available at weekends, call back on Monday after 11:00hrs. Well, another problem without a solution?
Now there may be an email from the foot lady about their appointment today. At least I can get there this time.
I set the alarm on my mobile phone for an hour later. Just in case I don’t hear the text when it comes in. Then finished the Friday blog and posted it off.
Noise from the flat above that did not settle; it went on for hours and hours. Clunks and bangs! Later there were a few breaks from the noise of the impolite, insensitive, disrespectful, snobbish, haughty, pompous Herbert. But he was back again within minutes each time. Huh, just typed that, and he’s gone all quiet?
The alarm went off on the mobile. I got ready and trotted… well, limped down with the three-wheeler walker trolley in the lift to the ground floor. I meandered gently along the link corridor to the end and the hair & foot salon on my left.
Aha, locked up and empty of people! I moved on to the end of the corridor and took a photo of the ILC (Independent Living Coordinators), who are Oberstgrüppenführeress, Primo Ballerina, Warden, Deana, and Generaloberstess, Junior Ice-skating champion Julie. I could see no souls about anywhere on all my wanders.
I turned, somehow I was not surprised they had closed down, let’s face it, it’s just my luck, innit?
I took a close-up photo of the sign.
So we could read it. Bodes not well for the business, closing down for holidays?
I then had a thought – I do that sometimes, you know… have a thought! I nails growing so fast, I’m going to find it harder and harder to walk?
Just a thought!
I’ve been into this blogging, and the times have flashed by. The will be here soon. Better get some quick nosh sorted, methinks.
Back in a bit… or the morning. (The Morning updating):
Got the meal prepared, down in the £300, second-hand, decrepit, Haemorrhoid Harold-testing, sleep deterring, nauseatingly beige-coloured, not-working recliner. Feet up on a swivel chair. Not ideal when one is trying to eat peas and cope with the Peripheral Neuropathy Pete’s twitches and palpitations. Spent a lot of time retrieving odd peas from my body, the carpet, one in the slipper, two in the dressing gown pocket (No ideas how they got there], some made their way into the waste bin near the recliner, and about four are still on the floor underneath the Hopewell’s G-Plan, 1966 made cabinet, but at the back, I’ll ask Richard on Monday if he can retrieve them for me. Where was I? Oh, yes, the meal! Flavour-Rating 6.5/10. Ate it all, apart from the errant peas, of course.
Chloe arrived in a rush, as is usual. But we did have a laugh while it lasted. Treats and off she went, taking the waste bag with her.
I went to wash up the pots and things, and I could not resist trying to get some decent shots of the evening sky through the kitchen window. I took the first one in Auto-Mode on the Lumix camera. Crossing my fingers that the SD card will get them this time. Then tried a zoomed-in a bit, effort using the SCH-Evening mode on the camera dial. As I was taking this one, an instant demand came to a wee-wee – No messing about, I grabbed Metal Micky and shot off to the wet room. Fearing that the Comfort Protection Pants might be about to be tested here! But, No! I whipped out Little Inchie and had to wait for ages for the trickle to start, and it only lasted for a few seconds; this confused me somewhat? Washed and went back to the kitchenette. Where I took this picture of the changed view on offer from Mother nature. Amazing how quickly the evening skies change.
And back to the wet room. This time for Porcelain Throne duties, during which; the wee-weeing flooded out? A comfortable, aperient evacuation was taken. But I had to wait for Little Inchie to stop leaking for blooming ages.
The fungal lesion was bleeding again. I assume through my stupidity of whipping down the pants so roughly on my first visit for a wee, Tsk! I tried the new ointment this time, in hopes that for some reason it would be less painful than the Daktacort was. It wasn’t!
I went back to the computer and took the nightly capsule of Hemp.
I pondered on whether to risk an extra Codeine 30g. No doubt the lesion will sting for a while yet, and sleep, I would like to have some.
But resisted and took a tablet of the less effective but much better than Paracetamol, Co-Codamol.
I settled down in the £300, second-hand, c1968, charity shop-bought, eyesorely-horrendously grungy coloured, Harold Haemorrhoid-testing, easily-falloutable from, unfit-for-use, not working, recliner, in search of Sweet Morpheus.
But every time I nodded off, the pants would catch on the lesion as a shuffled about in search of a comfortable position, and sharp pain would bring me back out of any sleep mode I was in.
I did consider changing into one of the larger pants. Maybe thinking about it now, I should have, I think! Cause I lost count of how many times I was unceremoniously and painfully woken up!
Yet amazingly, when I shot awake again around 05:00hrs, there was no pain from Little Inchies fungal lesion whatsoever?
Life can be more strange than any fiction.