Indagating Inchy – Wednesday 3rd March 2021 Diary

♥ The TFZer Chef of the Year! ♥


Wednesday 3rd March 2021

Welsh: Dydd Mercher 3ydd Mawrth 2021

  00:05hrs: I semi-woke up, returning to mock-life, and amidst all the confusion milling about in my brain, I found so many things to fret over, worry about, and ignore; for a few pointless, unfathomable, befuddling, minutes. Slowly I worked out what day it was and became aware of the warm wet sensation from within the PP’s. I hoped it was PMD (Pre Micturition Dribble) or CMD (Cessational Micturition Dribble) instead of Little Inchies Fungal Lesion bleeding. (Which it was! Phew!)

I tackled the Herculean quotidian job of hauling my overly-bellied torso from the £300, second-hand, c1968, cringingly-beige-coloured, not-working, rickety-recliner, and rose to catch my balance. (There wasn’t a lot of equilibrium available, but I managed, with a high degree of effort, to achieve this).

I took the missed evening medications and did the Health Checks. The SYS was down a smidge at 149, DIA at 72, and the PULSE at 88bpm. Which overall, it was a better set of figures this morning.

The made in Hong Kong, Chinese Harpin Xian Di contactless thermometer temperature reading is well in the danger area red, at 37.9°c – which Mr Google told me was 100.22°f. High, but not critical. Phew!

The summoning to the Porcelain Throne arrived via the innards, and off I trotted, well, limped, to the wet-room. For the first time in a while, Cartilage Cathy was giving me some aggravation, stingingly so, which did not help my balance at all. In fact, when I plumped down hastily on the raised WC seat, I caught and started Little Inchies fungal lesion bleeding again!

However, the expected runny, watery evacuation didn’t happen. Instead, it seemed that Constipation Konrad was in charge over Trotsky Terence, this time, very fuliginous, to go from one extreme to another like this. The crossword puzzle was utilised as I sat there, knowing things were brewing ready to escape, yet spent a good five-minutes puzzling before the action started. Not that I solved any clues at all. Tsk!

Far less messy, but more effort needed to encourage the motion along. No bleeding from the rear end! Easier to clean things up. Although the refilling of the water tank and several flushes were needed.

Then after washing the affected areas, the dodgy bit had to be done! Stopping the fungal lesion bleeding. Nover an easy job, but with not having to use it for so long, the Dakacort cortisone cream application proved more messy and painful this time. Not 100% successful either. But, pain-wise, Cathy Cartilage’s knee was a lot worse to medicate. If I don’t rub in the gel enough, the pain relief is not up to the job. So, I had no choice other than to keep applying it and massaging the knee with a degree of pressure that didn’t go down well with Cathy at all! I’ll take an extra Codeine Phosphate with the morning medications, maybe some Paracetamol as well. Walking and keeping my balance is not easy when this happens, but I mustn’t moan. Plenty of folks a lot worse off than I am.

I got the computer going and concentrated on updating the Tuesday Diary. Cartilage Cathy was no bother as long as I was sat on the swivel chair – but when I had to get up for wee-wees or make a brew, Wow! I think this will affect my balance when I have to go out with the rubbish later.

I eventually, quite quickly actually, got the updating sorted out. Thanks mainly to Nicodemus’s Neurotransmitters being in a good mood with me, Yee-Ha! Most appreciated! Hope he keeps it up!

Sent off the blog. Emailed the link, went on WordPress comments, then on the WP Reader Section. Finally, I got to updating the Facebook pages.

I made a start on this page, and I had to go to the wet room for a painful wee-wee. Although, a reluctant one. A stressful evacuation… no, that’s not the word. Harrowing is a better one to use. Little specs of blood in the bowl, and the NHS Urologist’s colour code card, showed that I’d gone back to a ‘Very Dehydrated’ No.6 level. Humph!

Leaving the room, I came as close as I’ve ever been to walking into the door frame as I have ever been without clouting it, as Cathy Cartilage gave way. Things seem to be getting back to normal for me, then? Hehehe! I remembered to take the A.M. medications.

I remembered to put the Kodak camera on battery on charge. I was using the old Canon charger, thanks to Amazon sending an American two-pin charger that wouldn’t work anyway. Still, it started charging without any bother.

I returned to the wet room to tend to the ablutionalistical duties. They have not gone so well in months! Brilliant! Astoundamigating! Wunderbar! Up until the getting dressed, that is!

The nasal-clearing went well. The teeth cleaning fine! And even the shaving impressed me! Only two dropsies and no, I say, NO cuts or nicks!

The showering was again a good one! A few dropsies fair enough! No bangs or dizzy’s whatsoever!

The drying off was problem-free, too! See Inchcy there? The red-faced showerer! Hehe!

Now we come to the medicationalisationing. Not perfect, nor lethal. Hehehe! Harold’s Haemorrhoids ointment applicating was a smidge painful.

And the dang Daktacorting on Little Inchies fungal lesion brought forth a few curse words, twinges and Ooh, Ah’s and Argh’s!

The last operation, getting dressed, involved:

  • Me ripping the new PP’s as I pulled them up! Luckily I have a decent stock in hand now.
  • The other balsa… no, Bambppp long socks didn’t seem as long as the first pair did yesterday?
  • When getting the trousers on, Cartilage Cathy wobbled me, and down I went on my knees!
  • Still, I got back up, bruised, but easily enough!
  • All in all, a fair session!

I may sell the wonderful looking photo of my legs in the Bamboo hosiery to the Tate Gallery? Hehehe!

I got on with the handwashing. The long Bamboo socks, a pair of short ones, the crap cold Amazon so called  ‘Lounge pants’, and the well-made in Myanmar (Burma) are far too small and thin, grey zip-up jacket with pockets.

The door chimes rang out, and I went to investigate. There was the young engineer, who I’d arranged to come today, to fireproof the old airing cupboard.

Of course, I’d forgotten all about him coming. It’s easy to blame senility – but I will do it anyway!

He didn’t mess about, and soon he had everything out of the cupboard and on the floor in the kitchen for me to fall over.

Nice natured lad, we had a chinwag at times and a laugh.

I nipped out with the waste bags to the waste-room chute, and I disposed of them down the tube.

Made my way back to the apartment and took part in a little natter with the lad doing the work.

Oh, dearie me! Another letter informing me of the costs of living increases! The rent, Service-Charges and Support-Charges! So, what’s that in this week gone? The bank reduced my interest rates! HMG increased my personal tax rate! I’m sure there have more than these demands. Time for the claw-back for the Convid-19 costs? I’d have thought with them giving me the Asta-Zeneca poison vaccine and making me so ill, they might have gone easier on me, you know? But, no! Inchcock to the slaughter!

While stewing away and feeling sorry for myself, the young man working in the kitchen. And I realised that I’d forgot to remember to take a photo of the removal of the Porta Kabins on Chestnut Walk. So, here’s the best I could manage, the top one form last week and the bottom one this morning at approx: 10:00hrs.

Fancy that, me not remembering something, it doesn’t happen a rule. Ahem! I’m kidding, of course, when it’s news, it is the odd time that I do dredge-up some loose connection with something, and what I was going to do, or wanted to do, comes flooding back to me!

Shortly, the young worker lad had got the cupboard fireproofing work finished. He’d put a shelf up for in, bless him.

I told him to help himself from the bag of treats, thanked him, and he said he would try to call back on Friday to give me a hand getting the stuff back into the cupboard. Especially as he had put a shelf in there for me to use, bless his cotton socks. Most appreciated. Of he trotted, and I had a look at the kitchen to see what needed sorting out – I had no intentions of doing anything, mind. For I had no templates left to use and need to get at least three done, or I’ll get so far behind, doing the blog will become too much for me. I just winced when I saw the state of the place! So I got back on the computer to update this blog as far as to here, and I had to begin making some CorelDraw graphics for the templates. Getting late now, if I don’t do it, with it being midday, the weariness is about to dawn. I’ve been up for twelve hours now. I’m afraid I wasn’t up to concentrate, so I got something made up to eat.

I used the last of cooked pork, chicken tikka on sticks, garden peas and tomatoes. I lathered plenty of butter on the Sourdough bread, added the last pot pf the horrible Iceland raspberry trifle, and got down to eat it. The flavour-rating given was only 5/10, but the sourdough bread was tasty enough.

Missed most of it! Grumph!

I washed the pots and got down again, wondering if Sweet Morpheus would be kinder to me tonight? It was all tiny-nod-offs and waking repetitions. Of the two half-hour episode of Tales of the Unexpected, I might have been awake for the ten-minutes worth. Then, of course, I thought this is it, sleep commeth now… Did it Thunderbogworthy!

Well, yes, it did in a way, but in spells of a few minutes, then I’d wake up, simmer and stew a while, drop of again for a few minutes… Not very good at all!

In the end, I gave up about 23:40hrs, got up for a wee-wee, and then started doing some much-needed graphics.

Indwelt-Inchy – Monday 1st March 2021 Diary

What are these two TFZers up to?


INCHCOCK TODAY

Monday 1st March 2021

Croatian: Ponedjeljak 1 Ožujka 2021

00:45hrs: Woke requiring a wee-wee. Which has been something of a rarity this week. So, I delayed not and hauled my overly-stomached torso from the warmth and discomfort of the c1968 recliner, caught my balance, and hobbled over to the NWWB (Nocturnal-Wee-Wee Bucket).

What a struggle that was! A weak, trickling affair that caught me out with both PMD (Pre Micturition Dribble), and CMD (Cessational Micturition Dribble). A check on the NHS Urologist chart proved that the wee was in the number 6 status! Very Dehydrated? I thought I’d been keeping up with the spring-water guzzling too? I’d better make sure today that I take a lot of it in.

I went to make a brew of Glengettie to get me started drinking. Made a decent looking mugful and added the milk… but the milk had curdled a smidge. That was the Sainsbury’s Jersey full cream one too! Hey, ho! I opened a bottle of Cravendale full-milk and made another brew. I took the missed evening medications. Tsk!

As I was stirring it up well, the need for the Porcelain Throne arrived. Oh, dearie me! All the signs were that it was going be another Trotsky Terence dominated evacuation. And it was, but with a difference!

I hastened to the wet room and settled quickly on the seat (Not wanting the embarrassment like yesterday of any early escapages). To my astonishment, there was no movement at all; well, the gurgling was there in the innards. I got the crossword book out and began to use it… but only for a few seconds. The action started, as anticipated; it was a victory again for Trotsky Terence. Stinky-phoo, mostly liquids followed by a generous dollop of the gooey, sticky mass of faecal matter. I’ve never had such a chaotic, squishy evacuation as this one was!

Thank heavens I’d got the fresh TP rolls out ready after the nearly as onerous evacuation yesterday. Cleaning up took me a least ten-minutes, if not more. Then, the problem of getting the product to go away! I lost count of the times I had to refill the water tank. And I destroyed the wooden stick with so much prodding and poking of the congealed mass to encourage its eventual removal from the bowl! I felt exhausted after I’d finished! 

I decided to take the morning medications with another Acute Diahorrea Relief Capsule. I hope this one might work.

The usually dependable, trustworthy, Chinese manufactured Boot’s Sphygmomanometer failed to work the first time again. But it did show that the SYS had tumbled from yesterdays high of 180 down to 149. The DIA was 80. and the PULSE a little high as 94bpm.

The made in Hong Kong Chinese Harpin Xian Di contactless thermometer gave me a surprise. The body temperature had shot back up again? 37.5°c – 99.5°f, a bit over the top that was? Of course, I can’t get to talk to the Doctor about these readings, neither on the email or landline phone!

Lots of ambers and reds on the Excel record sheet now! 

As I was starting the Sunday’s updating (I hate Sunday’s 👎), it dawned on me that I could hear the World Wide Hum! I could listen to the noise from above of the motor running? Jenny can hear that down on the 9th floor as well.

I got the updating finished and posted the diary to WordPress. Emailed the link. Pinterested a snap or two, then I went on Facebook catching-up. After which, I read and replied to some comments on WP. Next, I visited the WordPress Reader section.

Getting tired now. I went to make a brew, and I found that the morning had turned foggy, to put it mildly. Made a brew of Glengettie Gold.

Nearly time to get the ablutions sorted out. I was getting the watch and bands off of my wrists. I noticed the Warfarin alert band had been strangulating the arm. So that was what the itching was earlier, Hahaha!

I’d wondered, like.

I foolishly opted to divert and get some handwashing done before going to the ablutionary duties. I think it safe to say I got carried away somewhat with it this morning. I started off, doing the grey that should have been brown, Indian made, thin, cold, too long flimsy lounge pants, and a made in Pakistan Maroon zip-up jacket.

Got then done, wrung, rinsed and hung. The gear should be dry enough to wear by around mid-November or so. But I’d not finished yet, oh, no, when I go off on a tangential wandering, I do tend to get a smidge hypnotised with things.

Out came the mucked-up blue Pakistan Maroon zip-up jacket. And to long-sleeved t-shirts to get the Inchcock handwashing treatment as well. I must admit, this operation caused me more pain then the Porcelain Throne and wee-weeing put together earlier in the now freezing day. Colin Cramps kicked off, and I just knew that shaving was going to give me more agony later on. (Unfortunately, this was so!) EQ knew!

I got in the wet room and did the de-nasalising first, which went smoothly for once. The teeth cleaning left me with a little discomfort for some reason? I used the twin-bladed Bic razors for the first time. Which, with afterthoughts, may not have been such a good idea after all.

With the feet being hidden by the socks yesterday, I was surprised at my plates’ state. Both old ulcer scars seemed to be trying to make a comeback. And the tibial and spider veins were getting more prominent for the first time in months. Mind you, they were still more artistic than the idiot Andres’s pile of bricks at the Tate gallery looked!

The showering was an easy, almost accident-free session, to start with, anyway. There were no Dizzy Dennis visits and no banging or knocking into anything either, and Neuropathy Pete didn’t give me any right leg dances! Plenty of harmless dropsies suffered throughout the shaving and showering. I think I ought to have been given a medal, or a mention in despatches, for my heroism in using the… wait for it – Sock Glide! Smug-Mode-Adopted! Especially with my putting on the new extra-long f diabetic socks for the first time! I put these on partly due to the Weather forecast on Radio Nottingham for tonight -3°c, 26.6°f. The too-small Morrisons PPs were worn as well. They are not very good protection but do keep one warm, at least. As with the long mesh bamboo hosiery. Not cheap, but just worth the investment. I also noted the signs of water retention in this photo wot I took after the session.

I’m afraid I flaked-out after that. There was no sleep, just a horrible awakeness and frustration at not nodding off, despite the weariness I felt.

The door chimes rang, Josie was returning the things from her Sunday lunch. She liked the cheesy potatoes.

I settled again and just sort of hovered between wakefulness and sleep-mode – not actually attaining any nod offs, though. Eventually, hunger arrived, and I got a nosh prepared. A disappointing result, the peas and leeks were okay, mind. Taste-Rating: 2½/10!

The day-dreamings went on and on, but would sleep arrived? No! Sweet Morpheus denied me even a little shut-eye. After a horrible night, sort of dreaming but being awake, the need for the Porcelain Throne needs, and SSS (Shuddering-Shoulder-Shirley) stirred me into action. Of a sort!

Ill Inchcy – Sunday 28th February 2021 Diary

TFZer to the rescue!


INCHCOCK TODAY

Sunday 28th February 2021

Latin: MMXXI die 28 Mensis Februarii

01:40hrs: I stirred into imitation life, realised that I was not coughing or bringing up anywhere near so much phlegm. And it felt good, indeed, at last, the symptoms from the lethal to me Convid-19 AstraZeneca vaccine was weakening, after a full week! I spent a few moments fearing the second one coming up…

The innards bubbled, I adopted the Porcelain Throne – Defcon Two-Mode. And I fumbled my way out of the grotty, £300, second-hand, c1968, unsteady, not-working, incommodious, sickeningly beige-coloured, haemorrhoid-testing recliner, caught my balance of sorts and hastened to the wet room.

No sooner was I seated, and with Trotsky Terence in complete control, the vagariously doloriferous evacuation began. The discomfort and pain were soon over, but it was an Oh, so messy affair! The regular black and dark red mini-torpedoes funked like never before! 50% liquid! Bits of blood could be seen as I rose to assess the results of the dump.

The entire toilet roll plus was needed to clear things at the rear end! Gallons of water was used from the sink to remove the gooey pipework, funking, multi-coloured evacuated product! Many flushes later, things seemed to have been cleared.

The reliable, made in Hong Kong, the contactless thermometer showed a lower reading this morning, of 37.0°c-98.6°f. But this was still a smidge high, methinks?

The usually dependable, trustworthy, Chinese manufactured Boot’s Sphygmomanometer failed on the first two tries to come up with a reading.

On the third attempt, it worked, but the SYS was high at 180, DIA at 75, and the PULSE was 89bpm.

I updated the Excel file with the new figures.

Then took the missed evening medications and making up the moring one to leave in view so that I didn’t forget that one later, as well. Humph!

I made a start on updating the Saturday Diary. SSS Shuddering-Shoulder-Shirley and PP, Peripheral Pete, were giving me their ackamarackus tricks, which slowed me down with my progress.

As I was going to make a brew of Glengettie, the rumbling innards kicked-off again – which worked out well as it happens.  I was only feet away from the wet room door at the time and was soon in and sat on the raised plastic seat…

Oh, dearie me! This session was worse than the first one and more Accifauxpa-ridden, too!

  • The content was just the same style, but there seemed a lot more of it!
  • Not so much blood escaped.
  • I had to restock with toilet rolls and kitchen towels. Ultra-messy, and so much of it, gooey, gelatinous, gunky and semi-liquid at the same time!
  • Foul-smelling, evil-mephitic and noxious!
  • The clearing of the evacuated product took far longer this time. Several refillings of the tank, and many flushes, eventually did the trick!
  • Then, when I thought everything had been cleaned and freshened, I spotted a clump that had, I assumed, ejected itself as I position myself on the seat.

Embarrassment, shame, disgust and the futility of my hopes all lingered for a moment or two, teasing, humiliating me. I got things cleaned up.

Then I returned to the kitchen.

I took this photographicalisation through the kitchen window, it didn’t come out well, did it? Humph!

I got the updating finished and posted off to WordPress. Pinterested, a couple of yesterday’s pictures, then went on Facebook catch-up.

I made another brew. Then read and replied to some comments. Had a read of the Health Unlocked Peripheral Neuropathy site letters. And made a start on this post.

Well, time to get the ablutions sorted out, then. Off to the wet room, I trotted.

Well, just look at those legs, will you? Spider and iliac veins hardly noticeable! Clopidogrel almost gone! And the weals, lumps, myasthenia gravis, with no signs of any Idiopathic Polyneuropathy.  Admittedly the socks cover the ankle ulcer, but it was very faint.

I wonder if the Tate Gallery might be interested in buying a picture of my amazingly improving legs and knees? My pins photo would cost a lot less to the idiots who run the Tate Gallery, and if I may say so, are more artistic than Mr Andre’s ‘Pile of Bricks!’

Arthur Payne, Gallery Assistant, quoted in the Evening Standard, n.f.d. 1976: “These bricks have really brought the public in. They can’t make head or tail of them. Nothing has attracted as much attention as they have!”

Inchcock response: “It’s a shame something that is nothing to do with art should be bought by the desperate for fame, fools at the Tate Gallery!”

Of course, it doesn’t bother me! Oh, no!

Ablutions all done, I set to getting the walker-guide box filled with waste-bags and got them ready to rake to the waste chute.

I found another letter had arrived.

Worryingly it was from British Gas, an assured sign of price rises or confusing changes of tariffs! Sure enough, on opening the lying, two-faced, cheating, conning, unreliable, ignorant, mercantile, profit-seeking, undependable, unpredictable, untrustworthy, capricious, expensive, over-charging, anti-customer orientated, costly, compassionless, and pachydermatous British Gas envelope; I found an increase in payments! But it didn’t bother me!

I spat a little, cursed, sent a death wish through the ether, to Centrica boss-man, (who own British Gas,) Ian Conn, and the four bosses who raked in £2m bonuses as the customers were hit; with price-hikes! But it didn’t bother me! The profit-oriented gits are not going to get to me! Although, if I hear of any of them being cast-down and snuffing it excruciatingly painfully from Covid-19, it may cheer me up a little and bring a warm smile to my face.

I got out and into the lift lobby, with the rather well-filled box of waste-bags on the Trolley-guide and down to the tiny rubbish-chute at the far end.

I got in alright and even put the bags into the chute without any knocks or injuries down the tube. Getting back out was not so easily managed. There is not enough room to turn the walker-Guide around in the waste-room, so a spot of reversing is needed. I caught the trousers in the wheels coming out. Later I found a tear in the cloth and a spec of bleeding. It made me think of British Gas! I felt sick!

Out along the lift lobby in the opposite direction. The only art-deco end wall, I’ve not seen this on any other floor, seemed more attractive to me again. (Especially so with the bile being encouraged by British Gas!) I wonder if any other floors have this art-deco paint job on their wall?

I got back to the apartment, and I set about getting Josie’s nosh cooked and prepped. I was extra careful in the presentation of the extra cheesy, buttered and sea salted potatoes. They tasted good when I tried some; I hope Josie enjoys them. The strain-free tuna, mini-tomatoes, Surami sticks, roast onions, and today for a change, fresh garden peas and leeks added. A disc of the cheese she likes was left unopen, in case she fancied it later on. A can of Sainsbury’s Rum and coke added. I delivered it just before midday. I could her Josie talking to her sister on the phone as I rang the bells. Handed her the tray and explained about the peas and leeks and new drink. Again she asked why I buy the drink when I don’t drink it; also, I told her, ‘So you can drink it!’ today. She can’t understand it.

I washed the cooking utensils from her meal making, and I had a look to see if I could get in a slot with Iceland. I got one alright for next Tuesday. I hope they have the bread available this week.

I made just one more graphic on CorelDraw and made up my meal of the day. Potatoes with the rest of the garden peas and leeks, a few crispy onions, tomatoes and some horrible tasting cooked turkey pieces. But I did eat it all. The early weariness dawned.

I got the pots washed again and became rather insipid, and the tiredness came on rather quickly for some reason. I think I put the TV on and turned it off after a few minutes to search for Sweet Morpheus. But sadly, success was denied to me!

It was many hours before I nodded off. Yet I felt so weary and couldn’t understand why I wasn’t already snoring away? I do remember the door chimes going – that would have been Josie returning the food tray, I assume. But I just could not get up. The gal knows that if I am in, the door is never locked; she can open the door and place the tray and cutlery though the door. But the poor thing has a memory about as good as mine is, Hahaha!

Frustration was growing the longer I went without nodding off. It was as if something was determined that I would not get to sleep?

I lay there, started to plan the World Economic recovery from Covid, worked out that aliens would be seen openly next August 28th, and realised I had not had a wee for many, many hours.

Finally, I must have nodded-off, cause I woke up, in need of a wee-wee…

.

Inebriate Inchy – Saturday 27th February 2021 Diary

♥ TFZers at the lake? ♥

Inchcock Lie!


INCHCOCK TODAY DIARY

Saturday 27th February 2021

Mongolian: 2021 оны 2-р сарын 27-ны бямба гараг

00:30hrs:  I woke, in complete denial of moving, went into a slugabed mode and nodded off again. Repeatedly!

When I stirred for about the tenth time, it was 02:48hrs, and the need for the Porcelain Throne cruelly forced me into physical activity, Humph! Freeing my overly-stomached body from the £300, second-hand bought, c1968, sickeningly beige-coloured, not-working, uncomfortable, rusty, rickety-recliner, and catch my balance for walking, was a battle to get it done in time. The need for the evacuation was growing more urgent, and I moved as fast as possible, only just getting there on time!

Trotsky Terence yet again won the PTDDSB (Porcelain-Throne-Daily-Domination-Stakes-Battle). Poor old Constipation Konrad was annihilated! Almost 50% liquid, running droplets of red and brown, with streaks of white evacuated into the WC bowl! Messy, but not painful today, though! But the foul aroma produced did me no good, Eurgh!

Then the farcicalities started!

  • First, the cleaning of oneself must have taken a third of the toilet roll, and ten-minutes!
  • Then, the evacuated product was encouraged to go down into the sewer, which took three hand-fillings of the water tank and eight flushes to complete!
  • Then I found some of the ‘liquid’ had escaped earlier, and the PPs needed changing! That took effort, time and cost me £2 for the too-small substituted by Sainsbury’s PPs! They had to be used up!
  • I washed and then put some of the Harpic bleach White & Shine toilet cleaner with baking soda and lemon around the WC bowl. (I highly recommend this most effective, fresh-smelling product!)
  • Pleased the sorting out was done, I turned to leave the wet room… Oh, Dearie me! I hit the back of my right shoulder blade on the edge of the doorframe as I was leaving.
  • Of course, me being the brave, heroic, confident, none-whinging type of person I am, there was no cringing or sobbing involved. Ahem!

I made a brew and took the evening medications I’d forgot tot ake, with an extra pain-killer, and rubbed in some Phorpain Gel as far as I could reach, anyway. Then did the Health Checks. The body temperatures was a touch of anosmia, at a high 37.6°c – 99.68°f, in the red. I wasn’t caught out by this. I’ve a little fever and been shivering a little all morning. The Boots Sphygmomanometer readings were just fine, though. SYS 137. DIA 63, and the Pulse at 88.

I added the findings of the results to the now working again Excel chart. Apparently, the temperature has been high for a while now. Not that I can get to tell the Doctor, of course, or do something silly, like ask for advice.

I got the ridiculous idea of going out on the balcony to take a shot of the moon and the car park below Chestnut Walk. The car park one was not one of my better efforts… in fact, it was absolute crap!

The picture of the moon wasn’t up to much, either.

The worst thing was that the fever got worse, and I was going sweaty then freezing alternately. Ah, well, I can’t win them all! Well, any really!

The computer started alright the first time. And set to updating the Friday Diary, and I  got it finished in a decent time today.

I emailed the link, Pinterested some snaps, and at this stage, I was handicapped with Colin Cramps having a half-hour bash at the left hand and fingers! I had to stop typing altogether. He doesn’t usually attack like this during the day; night time is his standard attack time.

I took the opportunity to make another mug of Glengettie and take the belated morning medications with another pain killer to ease the shoulder’s pain. I had a couple of mini swiss rolls with the brew. Then I got some leeks cooking in the crock-pot.

I got involved in the Health Unlocked site, reading in my Anticoagulation pages.

I made a couple of comments and then joined the Peripheral Neuropathy Section and made a comment there. The lady answered very quickly. I’d told her of the after-effects of the AstraZeneca Vaccine. It’s nice to see how others cope with the problems they have that I can relate to, and offer a little support… and get some back, as well. ♥ I enjoyed an hour or so reading of others ailment. Nice break! And, I was beginning to feel a bit better in myself as well, at last! The shivering had stopped, and the shoulder was easing off. Yee-Haa!

I got the leeks from the crock-pot into a saucepan. Washed the dish-bowl and opened a can of Hubbard’s cheapo Chilli-con-Carne. I added it to the saucepan and out in the garden peas. Gravy seasoning, two vegetable Oxo cubes, and a beef flavour pot to the mix stirred it up well, put it on low heat, and a slash of Balsamic vinegar and a pinch of Roast Capsicum seasoning, and lastly, some passata with basil!

That was that; my evening nosh all planned! I’d got some of the Milk Roll bread left from last night to soak it up with. I’d have liked to risk using the Dynamite Chilli.

But I’m aware that things are not yet settled healthwise after the dangerous AstraZeneca vaccine from a week ago! Gawd, I fear having a second shot!

Ah, well, I must try to get some more graphics done to use later off onto CorelDrawing. I got three drawings done to use, and the weariness was dawning.

I was moving into ‘Kaput-Mode’. So got the Chilli meal prepped and served up.

Although it was tasty enough, it took a lot of eating for some reason. And I managed to get the things into the sink to soak and even started to watch an Auf Wiedersehen Pet episode, but blissfully I nodded off, and I slept for five hours!

Indagative Inchy – Wednesday 24th February 2021 Diary

♥ Yer can’t blame a man for visiting Mary, can you? ♥


Wednesday 24th February 2021

Welsh: Dydd Mercher 24ain Chwefror 2021

02:30hrs: I woke in a sweat, feeling smelly, and in a terribly confused state again. I lay for ages, fighting the slugabed instinct. The mind-muddled, and try as I might, I couldn’t seem to get the brain in-gear?

A sudden sneezing and phlegm rising bout saved the day. (I apologise to any neighbours I may have woken up, with this the viciously loud series of sternutations) but there was no stopping them! The benefit was that the mind began to grasp some logicality, and the need for a wee-wee arriving at the same time, forced me out of the £300, second-hand, c1968, cringingly-beige-coloured, not-working, rickety recliner.

I had a wee-wee, of the most reluctant type, all over in seconds. Then took the bucket for sanitising and had a freshen up, but started to shiver while I did so. I got a jacket on and the trews and risked making a brew of Glengettie Gold.

But the taste-buds were not working again. Most disappointing flavour to the tea. Humph!

I spotted the original cans of Stagg Chili-Con-Carne that had been delivered last night. The Dynamite meat one that may be too strong for my tastes? With the taste-buds bad again, I’ll have to leave it for a while before trying them.

Then again, the second poisonous dose of the AstroSeneca vaccine is due soon, so all this agony, misery, depression, and illness side-effects will happen all over again! This thought didn’t do me much good!

I got the Health Checks done. I wasn’t too surprised to see that the body temperature was in the near red. I’d been feeling feverish earlier in the recliner 37.6°c – 99.68°f, pretty high that!

The dependable, trustworthy, Chinese manufactured Boot’s Sphygmomanometer threw out slightly higher SYS 158, DIA 78, and Pulse at 88 bpm.

I updated the Excel record. The SYS and the Temperatures were all sneaking back up a smidge. No point in trying to get to talk to the Doctor about it after yesterdays five failed attempts to get through to the surgery. At least she can say honestly that when they find my body, which will have been in a crumpled heap on the floor for several days, no one calls to see if one is alright, of course. Hopefully, the next Warfarin blood test, whenever that is, the last one had a five-week gap, will mean my torso will eventually be found – and the Doctor can say, “Well, I didn’t know he was poorly!” One gets the feeling that the end-is-nigh.

But with the AstroSeneca vaccine number two to come, along with all the associated side-effects, am I bothered? Nope!

I took the morning medications, and I got on with updating yesterdays most-gloom-ridden diary for years. There was only SSS (Shuddering-Shoulder-Shirley) giving me any hassle typing wise. So I got it done in a reasonable time. Pinterested some photos, emailed the link and posted the blog off.

Went on Facebooking catch-up. A tiny bit of gurgling from the innards started. Which by the time I had finished, turned into a full-blown demand for the Porcelain Throne. Off to the wet room.

I fear my timing was not up to scratch. After I’d got down, I realised this the moment I saw the black and red mini globes on the floor! Embarrassment-Mode-Engaged! The passing was painful, messy and stinky! The tank had to be hand-refilled a few times to rid the evacuated product from the bowl. The early-escapee bits had to be cleaned up. I washed the hands and checked around to make sure I’d not missed any of the ‘bits’.

Off to try making another brew of Thompsons Punjana this time. I got some leeks and mushrooms prepped and into the crock-pot on low heat.

The mushrooms didn’t get into the crock-pot; a mega-dropsy meant they were put in the waste bin. Tsk!

I took a shot of the view through the glass in the kitchen window. Not a very good effort, but I wasn’t too bothered, plenty more serious things to worry about.

Back onto the computer and started this blog going. I found this disinformational graph on the web. A comparison between two of the Covid vaccinations companies being used. Not that one has any choice in which to have, of course. Unless you have a Private Doctor. I’ve got an NHS doctor, who I did manage to talk to on the phone three months ago.

Sister Jane rang. Lovely to hear her, even though the phlegm-rising was back again. It was coming up after a few minutes of chinwag. By the time I’d apologised and rang off, and I’d got to the toilet, I flaked out.

Got a drink of water and just sat down for Gawd knows how long. Oh, dear!

Woke up feeling a bit groggy, shivering again.

I forced myself to make a small Chilli-Con-Carne meal. It didn’t taste right, but that’s the taste-buds for you. Not a lot, but I ate it all up. Washed the pots.

I Rang Sister Jane back, but I was only partially aware at the time.

Soon got down and started a routine of sleeping, waking, sweating, repeatedly shivering—a lousy night.

Invert Inchie – Monday 22nd February 2021, Diary

Dang, keys!


INCHCOCK TODAY

Monday 22nd February 2021

Greek: Δευτέρα 22 Φεβρουαρίου 2021

Forever waking up, at times with memories of a dream or nightmare, and repeating the process for hours and hours… it was a horrible experience. The worse bit now is I cannot recall the happenings with any clarity at all. The old standard on a boat or barge was in there somewhere, but nowt concrete memory-wise.

02:40hrs: I lay there, having woken up for the twentieth time, and the innards indicated it would be a good idea to pay the Porcelain Throne a visit. So, I did!

Gathering the equilibrium and ability to do so safely was a little harrowing. The catching of my balance didn’t work as well as usual, and I had to really take care not to go over en route to the wet room and when I opened the door…

I’d left the light on and the wall-heater on full blast! I turned it off and continued getting my rear-end down on the raised plastic seat – and only just in time, too! A puke-making aroma came with the evacuation. Again a red and black mixture of mini meatballs, seemingly linked together? Painful, stinky, and messy! One of the most unpleasant evacuations I’ve ever had. The tremendous heat in there didn’t help any.

I was muddle-headed when I came out, and entering the cold flat, made me shiver. Brrr! I got the Thermal Hat on posthaste. And did the Health Checks. Al looked fair to me.

I made a start of the updating of the Sunday blog. I pressed on and got it finished. Posted it off, emailed the link, and had a go at the WordPress Reader section. Coughing and sneezing throughout!

I went to make a brew of Glengettie, and doing this, I had a sneezing bout again. I felt a little escape from the rear-end and rushed back to the Porcelain Throne! The evacuation was almost entirely liquid, this time an olive coloured small dollop. It left me feeling weak for some reason? The feeling that I would be back shortly was with me. Humph!

I did the Post-Dump Health Checks. The coughing and sneezing are getting annoying now! Phlegm from the chest was flowing a little freer.

Made a start on this post and then went of Facebooking catch-up. Not for long… I had to rush back to the Throne again! This one was worse in one way; it was 90% water and yellow water at that. It took me ages to clean the place up after the evacuation, and I was beginning to feel a bit bilious now? I keep shivering, coughing, sneezing and nervous of puking up; this is not going to be a good day; I don’t need the EQ to tell me this. A smidge of self-pity sneaking in, here?

Back to the Facebooking. The stomach giving off little rumbles, and on tenter-hooks that I will soon be off in a hurry again to the Throne.

I am not doing too well today. I wonder what time the Warfarin vampire will come? I’d better try to get the ablutions done early, in case she does arrive at a reasonable time.

The tummy seems to be settling a bit at last. I’ll risk a cuppa and some biscuits, methinks.

I had a few involuntary Thought Storms, which did me no good at all. The shivering moments continue!

I took off the quilt I was wearing around my stomach, and I set to giving it a good washing. It took a good while, but eventually, I got it hung above the sink, smelling much fresher than it did before.

Next, I got the ablutions tackled, the body shivering while I did the teeth and shaving. The tummy beginning to rumble again!

I didn’t feel as bad as I thought I would during the ablutionalisationing.

No calls for the Throne. The legs looked in fine form, the blotches and lumps seem to have gone on holiday?

The showering was something else altogether, only three dropsies, no bangs or knocks, and Dizzy Dennis didn’t visit me at all! In fact, the total dropsies added up to perhaps six at most!

I got dressed, hoping I smell a bit better than I did when I woke up, and I updated this blog. Expecting the Warfarin Vampire nurse will arrive early rather than late.

I risked making another mug of Glengettie Gold! Got the kettle on and wrung out the quilt hanging, and the intercom burst forth. It was the Warfarin nurse, one of my favourites. Cuddly and pleasant.

We spoke of the reactions I was having to the Covid Vaccine.

  • I mentioned my sleeping for fifteen hours, and she said her mother did the same, but for twenty-four hours! Blimey!
  • The dizzies and stomach rumblings. Almost every one of Angel’s patients having the vaccination suffered the same.
  • Told her of the repeated watery Throne visits and what they were like. Angel said several of her patients had the same thing for up to four or five days! Oh, dearie me!
  • Said I was losing track of the days. Several of Angel’s other patients had the same thing…
  • In fact, she had the same reactions herself! And knew how worried I must be. Bless her!
  • She recommended that I do as little as possible and just rest. That sounded good advice to me!
  • She told me to try and eat something today, but not to force it,
  • if I get any reactions from the innards.

She took the blood painlessly. Helped me back into the zip-up jacket and had to go to her next patient. I convinced her to try a packet of the Lemon Wafers as a thank you.

I got back to making the tea after the angel had gone. I pondered what she told me about eating and made up a saucepan of Chillie-Con-Carni, adding some garden peas, rost paprika, Oxo, and gravy salts. Gave it a good mix-up and will leave it to marinate, stirring again now and then, to try eating further along the day.

I am feeling drained again already today. I’m going to take a rest, I think.

This was the worst period since the vaccination. All I could do for many hours was just sit there, unmoving apart from a few painful Throne trips, resulting in stomach ache each time as the terrible black stinking wet bits flowed. Many times I considered pressing the alarm button. I felt that bad. I dreamt, woke, did nothing but feel sorry for myself; I did find this photo on the camera the next day. Obviously taken from where I was lounging for so many uncomfortable, head-spinning hours in the recliner.

I was getting more and more fed-up and out of control mind-wise. I think I was blurring thoughts from the nightmares and reality, and this went on for hours.

On one of the many visits to the Throne, I recalled what the nurse said and could smell the Chilli-Con-Carni mix coming from the kitchen. I struggled with it, but I got some served up,

I was determined to eat something, as the nurse said. I slowly got through most of it, went to through the rest away, and promptly spewed-up what I’d eaten.

I think it was the last visit to the Throne, and I just settled again. Sweaty, unhealthy, depressed, and sorry for myself. The Vaccine has made me properly poorly, and many others, according to the nurse. The effects of it go on and on relentlessly. I get worse and worse, coughing and sneezing again now; the phlegm from the chest feels almost solid at times, destroying any chance of sleep every bout.

Eventually, another visit to the throne was needed. This was so terrible, the pearl-like strings of contents were bloody and black, but at least they flowed free enough this time. Sheer depression and self-loathing reigned.

As I sat there in pain and a fed-up state like never before, bits of a repeated dream, I’d been having came to mind. By the time I got to write a bit down, most thoughts had gone off to the ether. I know for sure that I was in a model train shop, and everything started to so so small I could not see or buy what I wanted? Why this, above all the other crap I’d dreamt of, some of them while awake,

I’m not sure why this should be so special, I don’t know, I just felt it was?

I dare not risk a cup of tea yet, with the innards so delicate.

I am my lowest ebb for years. The thought of the second-follow-up vaccination coming, and going through all these mind-boggling, body and mind-tormenting times again, scares me to death!

That’s how bad I feel. Horrible!