– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – Good Morning. 7 hours in bed, possibly 4 hours of sleep. was the main culprit. I’m posting a shorter version today, although it was busy. Very little was on the reminder notepad, which was rampant throughout the day. I’m using photos as reminders. But no doubt, the news will be chronologically out of sync. And details may be a bit unreliable. So, I’ll leave out anything I am not sure of. Or mention the uncertainty.
Missed the night pouch; I had this on the SD card.
Morning Views.
The urine was flowing well.
Later cloud photos. From the kitchen.
Massive seizures, mind-blanks, and ‘Out-of-its’. I had to look up the names on the log-in book of the caregivers who called until I came around about 17:00 hrs. Things stayed in my mind a lot easier after this. It was when Carer Chris arrived for the teatime visit. He knew somehow that I’d had a problem, as he said I was stuttering and stammering when he first arrived, then returned to my usual self. Very perceptive, lad.
Medications were issued, and he made sure I took them. Feeling a lot easier now. I decided not to watch ‘Heartbeat’ but to get a good shave and shower session. Boy, what a change this time. Showering, shaving, medicating bodily areas in need, and shi… using the Porcelain Throne, then getting the PPs on has taken a minimum of 2 hours, one day 3! for the last ten visits, I think. Yet today, including the messy visit and cleaning up, I was out in… wait for it… one hour & 20 minutes! Super-great! But the quality of the shave left a lot to be desired. As I was drying off, I felt a load of stubble on the neck that I’d missed and found a few nicks that needed the application of the Brut aftershave to stop them from bleeding.
Carer Chris came for the last call. He removed the diabetic socks and his medications. We had a little natter, but I’m unsure what it was about.
When Cgris had gone, I got a second wind from Gawd, who knows where, and I titivated the kitchenette floor with the fancy speed mop. I then realised I had not put on the alert wristbands. Thinking I must have left them in the wet room, I returned to collect them but couldn’t find them. I searched the cabinet in the main room. I even checked the waste bin to see if I’d dropped them in there, but no luck. I felt like a proper fool as I turned around and found them on top of the £300 second-hand shop-purchased, c1966, welt-causing, uncomfortable, not-working, itch-inspirational, crumb-containing recliner. In plain view all the time! Then I made a quick meal. Potato cakes and bacon. Eaten in Milk Roll bread and dunked into the BBQ tomato sauce. Lovely. But the cakes were undercooked a smidge. – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – TTFNski!
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – I woke up, checked, and removed the nocturnal catheter pouch from the day bag. I was eager to get going with the ablutioning. I seemed to be avoiding the usual morning depression today. That’s good for me! As I pottered about getting the things ready to visit the wetroom, wind emitted from the rear end. So, sharpishly, I traipsed into the wet room to use the Porcelain Throne. It soon became obvious that yesterday’s Trotsky Terence affair was a one-off. I took this photo as the morning sunshine caught the General Hospital. It was captivatingly pretty, I thought.
I was smiling when I sat down. But no amount of urgings and pain would get things moving. So, I gave up, washed my hands, and decided to bet the ablutions after the first Carers visit. As I got into the kitchen, Carer Chris arrived. He got the medications sorted and my socks on. We had a short natter, not that we understand each other, accents and deafness on my behalf. Chris went on his way.
I began taking the things for showering and shaving into the wetroom, and as I opened the door…
It’s frightening how quickly one’s outlook on life can change. Depression can come on instantly and rapidly, followed by self-critical, lambasting thoughts and the desire to spit! I was so annoyed with myself for leaving the damned tap on to run cold. I felt I was physically shaking, I don’t think I was, but it certainly felt like it. I should have blamed They seem to enjoy their brain-battering battles to see who can make my life more rotten. I’m now trying to blame them, but I just can’t help it when something distracts me or I get two things simultaneously. Looking back at my jobs with Tesco, the co-op, and security, I realised that many things simultaneously needed attention. Yet I seem to recall coping well with the incidents back then. In fact, I was the one other people came to for help, and I got it. The anger turned to self-pity and sadness. But I’d sooner have than than the depressions. Well, maybe not really; the guilt of whatever I do that goes wrong also gets to me. Embarrassment and shame are always lingering dangerously for my mental health in the shadows.
I’ve tried to pass at the Porcelain Thrown 3 times until now (16:15hrs), but I have had no success. Blood and pain, yes! Hehe! Luck, well, good luck is an alien to me. Bad luck; A constant late-life disciple of Lucifer.
Carer Sham midday. In a rush, but she still emptied the catheter for me. I had filled up rather quickly, but I’d not noticed it. (Fancy that, me not noticing something, Hahaha) Thank you, Sham. ♥
I eventually got on with the blogging. And, dare I say it, I was doing well. That was a fatal thing for me to be thinking! (Worrying that was)
The keyboard stopped working while typing. The light on the keyboard was still lit up. The mouse was still working. The depression that turned into shame came back. No self-anger this time, just pure frustration and fed-uppers with my rotten luck. Not being technically capable, I investigated the situation. What to try, so all my limited abilities turned to solving the issue. ① I changed the batteries in the keyboard. Rebooted the computer – No, that didn’t work. ② Made sure the sender in the USB port was fully in. No, that didn’t work. ③ I gave up on the keyboard and threw it on the recliner. Keep the pain-givers together. Then, why didn’t I realise it sooner? I realised I’d got a new keyboard I bought ages ago, so I decided to try to set it up. ④ Getting it out of the box was a work of art and must have taken me about ten minutes of struggling. Now, how do I set it up. I investigate the new keyboard further. ⑤ It was a bit of another struggle for me to get the battery hinge off. Fancy that!) Then, I saw it took AAA batteries, not the AA ones I have lots of in the flat! ⑥ Then a stroke of luck. (Worrying that was).
I found that the batteries were inside the computer! ⑦ I put the keyboard dongle in the USB port. Took out the old one. And rebooted the computer. ⑧ I bothered me that it was working. Then I got a Windows message telling me it had been successfully loaded, so I opened WordPress. And would you believe it… HURRAH! It worked! Of course, it had cost me two and a half hours to get it to work. But working it is! YeeHaa!
Now, to get the photos of the day on the blog. I went to put the kettle on, and Carer Chris called. He took some photos on the spare camera and changed the settings so that it clicked when a shot was taken. He did it all so quickly for me, too. Bless Him!
No shower again; the hot water was not hot enough.
After putting the photos together, I found the one I thought I’d forgotten to take of yesterday’s meal: caramelised sausages, fresh peas, tomatoes, beetroot & red onions. Early evening sky, Bootiful!
I was going to turn on the TV to watch ‘Heartbeat’ while continuing the blog.
I could not find the remote control! I got the torch and looked underneath the dilapidated, breaking up, partially doored, second-hand bought Hopewell’s E-plan cabinet, with 7 drawers, of which two are still working, hoping to find that the remote had fallen and slid underneath it. I found pens, a pencil, and dried-rock-solid fresh peas. Along with a 1960 Scan Security Certificate of Merit, training courses passed, and two of the missing Health Alert wristbands… along with an old laptop, four AA batteries and an old pair of glasses in a case. But, no remote! I then searched almost everywhere: the junk room, hallway, wet room, and Kitchen. I even looked on the balcony. But no remote was found.
Then I foolishly tackled moving the £300 second-hand shop bought, c1966. Moth-eaten, bedraggled, grotty, cringingly-beige-coloured, much-filthied, crumb-containing from my nocturnal nibblings, bug-ridden, itch-inspiring, not working recliner. I couldn’t get down to look underneath, as the last time I tried, I could not get up again.
So, hauling it around, inches at a time, in the small space it stood in was the only option. I hoovered as I went along to reduce the mountain of dust, more rock-solid garden peas, more pens, and yet another mystery: three packets of French Fries with a sell-by date of February 2020. Ahem! This made me feel so guilty. I nudged the chair a little more and… Saw a corner of the remote control sticking out. Got the bugger! But as I bent down to pull it clear, Back-Pain-Brenda and Dizzy Dennis kicked off, and with the physical jerks, I’d tangled the catheter pouch strappings that needed sorting out. I was not in good shape and left the chair all askew, and I got on the computer to make this rather sad report for my multitude of blog followers. I hope they can both see the funny side. I could, even in such pain. Hahaha! Carer Chris is coming later, I’ll beg him to help me get the recliner back in position. It’s up against the bed at the moment. And I’ll ask him for extra Codeine. I missed one earlier, so it should be okay, I am allowed up to four a day.
Carer Chris turned up, looking a little tired. I told him of the farce with the remote-searching mess, and he quickly put the recliner back in position for me. I was still a little ‘out of it,’ Chris picked up on this. Thanks to him, I got the nocturnal pouch fitted, the diabetic socks removed, and a Codeine given. He also took the waste bags on his way out. Thanks, Chris!
I will get something to eat now. But I’ll not cook in this tired and confused state, and dragging or carrying the nocturnal bag around is too risky! I’ve got some chicken and fresh peas in the fridge. I’ll have a pot of instant potato with them. I won’t look good or be fine dining, but I must eat, and I’ll pray that the ailments let me rest and recuperate for once. Then in the early morning, I must get a good shower and shave. Please let me wake up early! But first, please let me get some sleep! I don’t know who I’m talking to; it’s out of desperation.
Please give me a break tonight. I have Back-Pain-Brenda, Sherida’s Electrical Shocks, Dizzy Dennis, Cartilage Chloe & Carole, Anne Gyna, & other ailments. That should do it.Hahaha!
Confused and tired, I made the no-cooking meal. No problem with the trailing 4ft nocturnal extension tube & pouch.
After washing the pots, I took five shots of the early-morning views from the kitchen. This is the only one that came out reasonably. – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
I settled in the £300 second-hand shop recliner I purchased in 1966, which caused welts, was uncomfortable, did not work, was itch-inspirational, and contained crumbs. I was intending to watch a recorded episode of ‘Heartbeat’. Soon, I was with Sweet Morpheus for two minutes at a time, repeatedly waking up with a jolt. I gave up the TV idea, and amazingly, or perhaps not. I slowly drifted of back into the land of nod. I woke up five hours later, and the door chime rang out when Carer Maryham arrived.
Another day in the life of Inchy Gerald Chambers. Living Proof that Bad Luck in later life is to be expected. Nae, in his case, is guaranteed. Without Cogniscent Impairment Iris, Doreen Dementia and all the ailments he’s accrued, life would be so dull. Dull sounds attractive to him. – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – TTFN
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – BUSY DAY TODAY BUT, VERY LITTLE WAS ACHIEVED. Conrad Konfusion, violent Dizzy Dennis interruptions, and mini-seizures galore. However, I am pleased to report that Twitching-Neck-Nigel and Electric-Shocking-Sherida were both very kind to me. I still have a problem with my Morning Blood Pressure, though. It was 160 yesterday morning; had it been 161/70, instructions are to call 111 and/or 999 to inform them if the SYS is over 160. It was close again this A.M. at 158/58. Carer Marie was with me later when I took the second, and it was down to 131/63. Hopefully, this glitch, if that be what it is, will level out. The cheap food delivery and about eight other tenants’ orders were left down in the foyer. Amazon did it yesterday, and EMri today. Go-Wrongables & Mysteries. Tsk! Carer Shaquille helped with the socks, etc. Carer Marie was on a domestic call, and then Carer Kimberley did the lunch at the same time as the financials, which she couldn’t do until someone showed her what needed doing and how to do it. She helped where she could with other things, though, which was lovely. Carer Israel, I got a food order from Ocado. I had a heck of a job getting the stuff in the freezer and had to dish some older stuff to make room. Then, there is the farce with the low-cost food order. I’d not have known it was in the Foyer, but Jenny, my saviour, was going out with Frank and called on the intercom when she noticed the [parcels dumped in the lobby by EMri. Thanks a lot, Jenny ❤. I took my box up to the flat with Warden Deana, who took the others to people’s parcels to the flats. Grrr! Amazon! EMri, Grrr! Deana to the rescue. 💕 A mystery water leak as well, Humph! – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
From the beginning… I woke up most unenthusiastically, around 06:00hrs. I just laid there for several minutes, wondering if it was worth getting up. For EQ Quasimodo (New name), the instant I returned to mock-life, “This is going be a bummer, mate!” He was right, of course; he always is. I recalcitrantly forced my monstrous, gargantuan-bellied body from the bed. As if to prove EQ Quasimodo was right, I knocked my new spectacles off of the bed tray and bent to reach the nocturnal catheter pouch to remove it. I wondered how much it might cost to get them repaired, as Dizzy Dennis gave me a howler of instability moment – which made me grab the ‘Don’t-fall-out-of-bed bars. Thus, I stubbed my ingrowing toenail on the metal leg stump of the itch-creating, bruise-giving, catheter-tube-tugging, crumb-decorated from my nocturnal nibbling, God-awfully uncomfortable, cringingly grotty, no longer working, dirty beige, anti-sleep designed, c1966, second-hand bought for £300 ten years ago from the charity shop, recliner. I got the pouch off, grabbed Wooden Walking Stick Willie, and needed to visit the Porcelain Throne. The Day Had Started! What a mess! Cleaning up me, the porcelain, and including the very-swift, 10-second almost liquid Kharki fluid, then applying the Harold Haemorrhoid ointment. I reckon it took me 15 minutes or more! Then (can this go on?) I caught my shoulder on the door frame as Dizzy Dennis had another go at me. Care Shaq came and issued the medications, got my socks on for me, and as he was talking to me, a rarity that it’s usually me doing all the nattering and moaning, Hehe!I had a mini seizure, and have no idea what he was saying. I don’t think he noticed, but yes, he must have. He’s a canny lad. I may have things out of order here, but they all took place. The food order arrived. A big one. I struggled to find room to store it all away. The one red onion I ordered was a bag of about nine big ones! Luckily, I got the Milk Roll loaves, a big bag of red potatoes, and some Norwegian-cooked bacon. It looks horrible, but I’ve had it before, and it has a great flavour. I also got six bottles of long-life milk, bleach, yoghourts, and more. When I finished getting things away, I put the kettle on and started the computer. I returned to the kitchenette to make the brew of Glengettie and saw water on the floor near the window. I mopped it up with kitchen towels using the Picker-upper-Paul. But could not understand where it came from. I told each carer and showed Marie what I’d done when she came on the domestic call. It saved her mopping the foot anyway. Hehe! I left some towels where the water may have come from because there were water spots on the window ledge; the ceiling showed no signs of a leak. When I checked later, they were all dry. At first, I thought the catheter might have had a puncture, but it hadn’t. Conrad Konfusion! Still not started on a blog, I got more seizures, strong ones, and I found myself at the kitchen sink washing out an old flat cap! I put it on a rack and put the bowl underneath it. I think it should be dry within 6 months or so. I’ll go and check it now (nine hours later). Hahaha! The wet can be seen as it sinks down, and dirty water is in the bowl. I think I’ll have to wash it again.
The DVT Anticoagulation Warfarin Nurse called to take my blood. In and out like a shot she was. Leaving blood pouring out from under the tiny plaster and a tiny bruise. That doesn’t happen usually, not for a year or more. Aha, a spot of rain with the sunshine. Such beautiful clouds for me to view. But it was changeable throughout the afternoon. I should have said earlier that Carer Kimberley cleaned my wound. But my getting in a mix-up chronological does not help with the clarity or lack thereof. It felt like minutes later, I was on the balcony again with the Kodak taking… no, the cheapo camera, taking shots after the drizzle had stopped. Well, the rain kicked off again. So, I poddled with Micky, the four-pronged walking stick, out into the balcony. I started to take this series of photos of the rain through the windows in different directions.
I honestly cannot remember taking these pictures. How did I manage to take these snaps? Why didn’t I lose my balance and tumble on or over the running boards?
How did I not remember?
I think that most of the time out there, I was pondering over the dream’s events?
How did I recall it all so vividly? This event was the mystery of the day for me. I started this blog very late. It seems like it’s going to be another working into the morning job. I came in and back on with the blog. I went to empty the pouch contents into the jug and to the restroom to empty, clean, and disinfect the jug. I had another mini out-of-it. I’m sure I sat on the loo for a while. It only lasted a few minutes, and when I came out, boy, the skies had changed. The sun burst through! The sky brightened, the clouds dissipated, and sunshine got through! The seizures diminished, just the odd mini one. I set to work again, trying to catch up on this blog.
After Carer Victor’s last call, I went to look at the vast choice of food I could have later.
I took these shots on the right to capture the change in view.
Then I was off to the kitchen to see what was to be done foodwise. I decided on a salad with some chips. Maybe!
I’m not a good decider or decision-maker nowadays. What day is it? – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – May Contentment Enfold You! TTFN. – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
I got my head down last night, about 01:00hrs. I woke up at 01:15hrs. Nodded off again, waking up with an streaking up my right leg that nearly me nudged out of the bed. I’m sure I heard a buzzing coming from the leg and bottom! Luckily, I hit my head on the anti-fall bar. But sleep was out of the question. I tried, but the shocks were coming so often I gave up and went on the computer. Once on there, the shocks stopped. But I was concentrating on just for once, getting the blog finished earlier, sooner, quicker. When I eventually realised that they were no longer coming, well, the odd one now and then, it was too late to get back in bed cause the carer would be here in a couple of hours. So, I decided to get the ablutions done. No showering; the noise from the drain would wake those below me up. I extracted the nocturnal pouch from the catheter. The shocks had at least made me pass more wee-wee. Hahaha! Expecting reluctance from Constipation Conrad, I got in the wet room and picked up the crossword book. It wasn’t needed or used. Tsk! I casually but carefully got the PPs off and sat on the plastic seat.
Well, no torpedoes today; there was no doubt that Trotsky Terence had regained command of things rear-end-wise. The porcelain filled up with what looked like Oxo cubes, but Kharki, not brown, and many of them. Getting cleaned up, washing the lower regions, and then getting the fresh PPs on was as difficult and painful as ever. It took me so long that I feared the Carer’s time was coming, so I rushed the shaving and body wash. The same goes for medications. The results were four shaving nicks and one deep cut. A stubbed toe – miraculously, I didn’t knock the ingrowing toenail! Also, I forgot to do the teeth. I got a long Kaghoule on and went into the kitchen, fancying a mug of Glengettie. I took these photos, although they were not good ones, of the morning view. I went to turn on the computer, but I got distracted by the noise from the baby alarm in the hallway. I never made the brew! It was some mail that made the noise I heard. I was not in such a good mood then. A damned depression came on instantly as I realised the things I needed help with sorting for the letters. HMG sent three of them! (TV licence), the bank (2) and an unopened one after the shock of the first few. As I got on the computer, a barrage of painful… well, no, they just made me jump, but this time went on and on at me. This encouraged me to look up the cause of these shocks on the computer and find out if there was any help. There are some sites in America, but not the NHS. I spent far too long looking this up. The Carer arrived relatively late, not that it mattered. I mentioned the problem of the shocks, and she tried to help me with a problem from XL. Carer Sham, it was a nice gal. When she left, she took the laundry bag with her. I’m surprised I remembered that. Haha! I did a search and copied some information that I found.
Phytoestrogens? But it informed me what I should eat and drink to help. Soya beans & chickpeas, yes, I eat them two. Flax – What’s that? Broccoli berries have been barred for me by the cardiac team.
It is too high in vitamin K. Tea is limited to two cups daily by Urology.
Advice: to keep moving. I’m bending down all day, emptying the catheter bag. Cut out beer and nicotine. I did that in 1975. Eat Omega, found in fish. Last month I bought some smoked haddock, and very nice it was, but it was only a half fillet, & cost me over £6!
So, it seems that when they throw my cadaver in the fire on my way to St Peter’s gate, there might be more sparks and flames than there usually are? I must warn the crematoria. Hehehe!
We had a drop of rain this afternoon to teatime. I got the Kodak out and took these three view shots into the balcony. The rain didn’t last long… Sounds like something the wife used to say to me. Haha!
I turned the oven on to heat up. I’d forgotten about the fresh beer-battered chips in the fridge. They are labelled “Use by yesterday,” but I’ll risk it. And a ready-made Shepherd’s Pie with a root vegetable potato topping. I made the nosh. It has a delightful flavour. I ate it slowly and savoured every mouthful.
The evening view was one of those ‘everything-had-brown’ in it. Great!
I fell asleep in the itch-creating, bruise-giving, catheter-tube-tugging, crumb-decorated from my nocturnal nibbling, God-awfully uncomfortable, cringingly grotty, no longer working, dirty beige, anti-sleep designed, c1966, second-hand bought for £300 ten years ago from the charity shop, recliner.
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – 05:55hrs: I woke up and took a few moments to figure out who I was, where I was, and why I had woken up. No joking! I think it must be possible to have a while one is asleep. This could possibly explain my bafflement when I stirred. It didn’t help much when joined in the confusing morning equation. As confused as I was, I wasn’t in a depression until the thought storming started, but I was then. Steve harped on and on; The computer problems, the TV Licensing Prosecution, the damned stupid and painful Catheter Contraption fitted, electric shocks shooting up my leg, the guilt of being so inadequate in even needing help to get dressed! Many other things were thrown at me at almost the same time. Things from 70+ years ago, mistakes, bad choices, stupid options that were taken… then, as I was trying to get out of bed, I stubbed my ingrowing toenail toe on the bed support bar. This was followed by a sharp-jarring pain from the catheter tube on Little Inchy, which took my mind off of the earlier depression and replaced it with a sickening ‘Sorry for myself’ moment. Lacking clarity or precision might be nearer to the optimum delineation. The nocturnal pouch was later checked and saved for colour classification by a carer. I’d regained a modicum of logicality by the time I’d made a brew of Glengettie and drank it.
The usual start, with the throne duties first. And what a change there! It was all over in seconds, but a ‘cunning plan’ from Trotsky caught me. I’d cleaned myself and WC up and was getting the shaving tackle ready… luckily I was only a hobble and a half away from the Porcelain Throne when a second wave arrived. I made it in time, but it was a close call. Had I needed to remove my PP’s, I’d have messed myself up. Luckily, if that’s the word, I’d taken the PPs off when in bed cause they and the catheter were causing me such pain. I did my teeth and then carried out the various medicationings, got some fresh PPs on, and forgot all about having a shave. I put the tackle away, thinking that I’d had one. Is there any hope?
I took an earlyish morning snap of the view from the kitchenette window. It was a bit nippy out. Brr! I closed the window, and I started updating yesterday’s blog. But, as usual, I got an idea for today’s Ode and spent ages on it, then almost forgot about yesterday’s not being done. Onto CorelDraw and Carer Chris arrived. Chris got the diabetic socks on for me. Medications were issued, and he mentioned that the catheter conglomeration looked rather painful. He was on the button there! Hehehe! He took the laundry down for me. I hope it returns today; the smaller socks were both in it.
I had a couple of minor seizures, I think, so I gave the computer a rest. And started to sort the waste bins out. As I emptied one, I
burst into life and dropped on the bins. Crumbs were scattered over the carpet. So I unplugged Vaccumm- Vincent to clean them up. I made a decent job of it, and as I turned (a little too quickly) with Vincent to replug him, visited, , just enough for me to kick the bin over that I’d just emptied Vincent’s contents into!
The day started badly… it’s still not getting any better!
came in to do a battery check. We had a little natter. Well, I told her of the day’s disasters. Hehehe! I love to laugh, but I get minimal opportunities nowadays. They are so precious to me!
Minutes after Deana had departed, the door chime chimed. I’ve noticed that it does that occasionally. The Postlady delivered three letters. One a bill. The other two from the TLA (Television Licensing Authority) informed me that an Enforcement Officer visit has been granted the right to call on me to collect payment. A £1000 fine may be applied if the licence fee is not paid on this visit on September 15th. Nice! Keir Starmer starts by stating that he means to go on with the liquidation of the older generation. Starmer’s total travel bill for his time in charge of the CPS stood at £236,485, which included first-class flights. It states in the letter that anyone over 76 years of age does not need to buy a licence? I phoned Deana, who gave me a reference number to give to the bully boy or girl when he or she arrives. The day started badly… it’s still not getting any better!
I made a food order from Ocado for next week. I can starve until then. At least that would please Starmer! Haha!
Getting depressed again. I got the Kodak and took this shot on the left of the flat’s Chestnut Way car parking. Not a soul in sight! Then I took this one on the right. To the left of the apartments. (It sounds much posher than flats, dunnit?) Haha!)
Next, off into the balcony. To take a shot of the dead-end car park. I felt the weight of the mini-sized catheter pulling down at the same time as Little Inchie felt the pain. Arghhh! I hobbled back into the flat and emptied the pouch, and all but went over again, as nearly had me over as I bent down to my foot to retrieve the bag. Fed up! I limped cautiously back onto the balcony to take a final photo. The rain had started. We need it, though; we’ve not had much this summertime.
The day started badly… it’s still not getting any better!.
I’ll investigate what food to have for nosh later on. No, I won’t. I’ll go on the WP Reader. Some great photography and poetry were posted for my pleasure by other bloggers!
BEEF IN STOUT GRAVY With a baked potato, halved and salted. Wholemeal bread rolls to soak up the gravy and get stains on my humungous, horrifically hefty, hanging-down stomach! A couple of squirts of BBQ-flavoured ketchup on the spuds. Naughty, but so lovely! I got the pots washed with one hand. The other was carrying the nocturnal catheter bag in hand. Then I put the bag on the floor and took this snap on the right. It looked ominous, yer peaceful at the same time.
Got down in the itch-creating, bruise-giving, catheter-tube-tugging, crumb-decorated from my nocturnal nibbling, God-awfully uncomfortable, cringingly grotty, no longer working, dirty beige, anti-sleep designed, c1966, second-hand bought for £300 ten years ago from the charity shop, recliner. Intending to watch some recorded episodes of ‘Heartbeat’. I kept falling asleep and playing back the recording to catch up on what I’d missed. The chilly-cold body tingles, along with the , assured that I didn’t stay asleep for long each time.
When I got onto the bed, the same two ailments then joined in with to give me a horrible night’s rest! One of the worst nights for months. Tsk!
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – Another day of frustration, torment, mistakes, Accifauxpas, Whoopsiedangleplops, agony from the bladder, wee-wee not flowing correctly. Urine’s colour regularly changed from almost clear to a deep brown and back again, Little Inchie in agony, the Catheter Contraption tugging away at him, Constipation Conrad showing no signs of easing, and… Never mind, a typical day here up in the clouds in the imprisoning flat, with increasing rent, power to go up 20% at the Labour’s first budget in October, and the yearly Power Costs Support Money has been cancelled by the Labour Party. That’s the one that Keir Starmer told us at the election was safe in our hands! I hope I never meet him; I’ll be nervous expecting him to pick my pocket! Or worse! The Founder of the National Health Service and my top Hero, Anyeui (Nye) Bevan, must be turning in his grave! Keir Starmer is a liar, cheat, wealthy, and power-motivated creature who seems too clever for his own good. Did he not know his deceit and underhanded lies by omission would not be revealed? It’s only the suicidal Conservative Party’s own ineptness and patheticness that got him into power! Well, fair enough. Keir’s blatant lies helped. One of his first sleight-of-hand moves was taking away the pensioner’s Winter Warmth cash: an easy target for him, and he knew it. The personal protection of the prime minister and former prime ministers is the responsibility of the Protection Command within the Metropolitan Police Service. The fleet of Prime Ministerial Cars provides the prime minister with a number of security features and transport. The Labour leader racked up an extraordinary expenses bill – an average of nearly £50,000 a year – while senior public prosecutor, including a chauffeur-driven car alongside first and business-class flights worldwide.
Starmer billed over £180,000 for chauffeur-driven cars in London despite living four miles from the Crown Prosecution Service (CPS) office.
He took first-class flights to four continents. As head of CPS, he took an 85-minute flight to Belfast, which cost us £443.
Starmer spent nearly £20,000 on four flights to Washington, D.C., then claimed £7.24 for a taxi in the US capital. His successor, A Saunders, served the same 5-year term but had travel expenses less than a third of the size of Starmer’s. And we have to grit our teeth, he says, at the budget? Starmer took home £1m over five years in charge of CPS and accrued £336,000 in pension benefits.
Long-time watchers of Keir Starmer, who have questions about his murky rise to leadership of the Labour Party, will have noted the investigation by Gabriel Pogrund and Harry Yorke in last weekend’s Sunday Times with interest. Based in part on materials from investigative journalist Paul Holden, whose forthcoming book The Fraud: Keir Starmer, Labour Together, and the Crisis of British Democracy is due out early next year, the Sunday Times article reveals the slush fund of undeclared, unregulated, and unlawful dark money – more than £730,000 of it – that financed the reconquest and reclamation of the Labour party by its far-rightwing using Keir Starmer as a figurehead. Still, I mustn’t let the pug-faced, tergiversation, lying, duplicitous, untrustworthy, clever double entente master, and obnoxious Oligarch git get to me! Keir Starmer is at the peak of his dishonesty! Or should that be at the birth of unlimited new opportunities?
I got a little carried away there… didn’t I?
I woke late, at 0600 hrs, but I felt a smidge perky, so I decided to get up and do my ablutions. I looked down from the bed to see that the nocturnal catheter pouch had barely any wee-wee in it. But the gigantic, thick, overly-long tube was backed up with much darker urine that was not going into the bag. So, I applied the usual morning task of throwing the bag around like a football rattle, then threw it back on the floor. Sure enough, the urine flowed. Still too dark, but still. Can’t win them all. I popped into the kitchen before the wetroom to check that I’d not left the taps on, fridge or freezer doors open or cooker on. They all looked good to me.
The photo of the Bottom field and City Hospital in the distance was taken. They’re not bad either, well, alright.
First thing, a sit on the Porcelain Throne, pain, effort, and Oh, so slow coming out. Constipation Conrad is still in full charge. I took another Laxido sachet in warm water later). There were only a few specs of blood on the toilet roll, and there was no mess to clean up! After cleaning my teeth, I had a shave. The aftershave dribbled onto the flesh cuts. Tsk! A body scrub, and ont to the medicationalisationings. Olive oiled the earholes; Earache Erasmus was no bother today. Put the eye drops in. Then, I got the barrier cream under the man’s breasts and belly bulge.
Germoloided Harold Haemmoroids and antiseptic cream were on the top of the legs, where the catheter straps had cut into the skin a bit. Acne cream under the arms, around the neck, and to the forehead. Then Phorpain gelled the knees for Arthur Itis. I could not reach down to do the ankle ulcer; I’ll ask a carer later. But, of course, I forgot to! The last mendicant, as usual, was the ointmentating of Little Inchies Fungal Lesion. Gawd, doing this hurts! I cleaned the glasses and cut my fingernails. I was in the middle of the usual battle to get the fresh PPs on when the door chime rang out. I finished as quickly as possible, but whoever it was had gone by the time I got to the door. Hobbled back to check the wet room, but could I find my hearing aids? No! It’s still a mystery to me, like so many things nowadays.
As I put on the gown, I noticed the thick, long catheter tube was in backflow mode again. And even deeper red now! I’d also obtained a new cruise on the left leg. It might have been caused by the top strap trapping the skin. Or not. I didn’t know what I was thinking at that moment. A seizure was on the way, and I knew it. Although how I knew it, I don’t know. But it did come, as Carer Shaquille arrived. I think I was waffling a lot. I know Shaq got the diabetic socks on for me.
I made a brew and got onto the computer belatedly. I have no idea what I got carried away with, but hours later, I’d still not started updating the blog. It seems I got some work done on CorelDraw, but not successfully. Spit!
Carer Kimberley arrived to provide financial help, but of course, she couldn’t. I pointed out that until Kara told her what to do and how to do it, including changing the name of my Prime Helper with the bank, they would not talk to her. She had a look at the mail but does not know, nor do I, where or which folder has to go in where. Kara used to do it so well and efficiently for me. She will see if Kara can show her and change her name.
I took this snap of the clouds while making a mug of tea. I’ve already drank three days’ worth of my allowance, which is six mugs, which should be two daily. A twinge of guilt was soon cast into the abyss of the ‘I’m-not-bothered-anymore’ section of the brain. A Dark, Dank Depression fell that instant!
I could not seem to break out of this downer. It appears that I also snapped a picture of a beetroot jar, but I cannot recall the reason why. But finding it on the SD, I thought I’d post it with a warning and advice for chefs worldwide who may use pickled beetroot from the UK. “Warning: This beetroot is as hard as concrete!” “It can bend knives used to cut it”, and “Break teeth”. But, think of the poor producers, who are like everyone else, who have struggled with the Conservative’s ineptitude and now face Tax rises, Price Rises, and cut-backs from expense-fiddler Herr Keir. Just thought I’d get another dig-in at HMG.
The miniature catheter pouch emptying went on and on. And it was not a good colour at all. That is until about 19:00hrs after Carer Israel made a quick visit. After a few minutes, the weight of the mini-pouch tugged on Little Inchie, so I emptied the bag again, as it was so light a colour? This is baffling me.
I decided I was too tired to carry on. So, I went to the WP reader and viewed any messengers. But I needed to rush, as my hunger was growing, and I needed to eat before I fell asleep.
I was serving up the nosh when Carer Israel arrived. I forgot to photograph it. Israel took the diabetic socks off my legs and attached the nocturnal bag to what may be my most painful catheter contraption. It has a tiny bag that needs emptying far too often and a long, thick upper tube that is giving Little Inchy more pain than ever before. (Written in hopes of the Doctor reading this blog)
I took these shots of the near sunset earlier and forgot about them until I found them on the SD card in the morning (Now).
It’s not too bad an effort, even if I say so myself. Smug-Mode-Assumed! Got settled to watch some TV, & although I was seated with my legs up, Dizzy Dennis visited me for a couple of hours. I was on the verge of pressing the wristlet alarm, and as he dissipated.
Thanks to Electric Shocking Sherida, I slept on and off, from the ankle up the leg. The nocturnal pouch was again only partly filled, and the tube held almost brown urine stuck in it—the blowback discomfort was not a good experience. I got the pouch and went through the same routine as yesterday. Throwing the bag around and shaking the ultra-thick tube until the flow restarted and the blowback pains eased. The nocturnal pouch filled very quickly. Once I’d got the night bag off, the farting diddy day bag filled up straight away. I had to keep emptying it all day. The bending down so often upset Dizzy Dennis. But as of now, 17:05hrs, just the one tumble, but I didn’t go down on the floor; I fell in the c1966, £300 Oxfam charity shop bought, second-hand, wincingly grotty, beige coloured, crumb-covered from my nocturnal nibblings, itch-making, uncomfortable, positively unhealthy & dangerous, no longer operational, virus-breeding, easy-to-fall-out-of, Catheter-tube-trapping, recliner. I sensed the blood coming from Harold’s Haemorrhoids and made for the wet room to clean and medicate things. Pain and blood, but no evacuations of anything else. I gave up and started to do my other ablutionary duties. Teggies, nasal clearing, earhole olive-oiling, then got shaving. A few nicks here and there, but I’ve had far worse. A good body scrubbing, no areas missed off. Hehe! Then, it was Harold’s Germoloiding time. The Catheter scars on the leg were Germolened, as were the under-tummy flab area and the man’s breasts with a barrier cream. I left the painful one till last. Dang, dang, dang, Dang! The Nerisone ointmentating of poor Little Inchies fungal lesion. Now how can I describe the pain when I rub it in? Dire, agonising, grinding, yes, they’ll do! Agonising was left for Constipation Conrad’s visits to the. Well, the first two produced nothing but pain. The third attempt, while Carer Chloe was present, was classed as Super-Agonising as the brick-like content slowly crept out. Amazingly, there was very little bleeding, just a few specs in the evacuated product. Sorry, this tale of woe is out of sync. I can’t find my earlier reminder pages. Perhaps I threw away the wrong sheet. I know. It’s hard for anyone who knows my lucid, alert character to think I may have forgotten something.
The list was lingering this morning. turned up and looked after me; it was grand. She rang the Doctors for me, making an appointment for Saturday, October 6th, for the Respiratory Syncytial Virus (RSV) vaccination. Chloe looked at the catheter mess and rang the District Nurses for me. Someone will come out today to check it over. Iceland delivery arrived while she was here. She helped bring the bags in and assisted me in putting some of them away. Bless her. She took the waste bags with her as she left. Thank you, Chloe.
I put the rest of the stuff away; there wasn’t much. Three annoying substitutes: They always substitute bread they have none of with the same loaf, which tastes like paper. It was flavourless and broke up if you dunked it or tried to spread No-Nutter Butter on it! They did have a new fresh meal in a bag, 3 for £10, which I tried. I opened one of the boxes, and it can be cooked; the meat and gravy in the bag, not the box, Hehehe! In five minutes. There was more fat than meat, but I’m a fair man, so I’ll hold any more judgement until I see how it tastes later. I must be unprejudiced, even against a company that takes off the delivery charge if you spend £40, then adds a Bags, Picking & Packing charge. But at least with them, you know something will be out of stock, and crap substitutes will be sent; as for the crushing of the fresh food… We had a smattering of rain laterer a lot, mind you. I had a stroke of good luck as I closed the balcony window. The camera fell, and I caught the shoulder strap, so I saved any damage!
The District Nurse arrived and said she would order some short-leg-tubed catheters for me. I’ll have many limbs and parts shorter than they should be. Naturally, the almost brown urine that had been stuck in the tube and the fresh wee were much lighter now that she had arrived. Humph!
Two hours later, as I hope you can see in this photo, I’m glad Carer Sham saw it to prove I was not crying wolf. Sham told me the urine in the day bag was equal to a seven on the NHS chart. The tube was again blocked with brown urine, and the flow-back sensation in the bladder was uncomfortable; I put that mildly, mind you.
The drizzle drop stopped, and I got the Kodak to take this shot from the kitchenette window. Then Carer Christopher came. His first shift back at work. Medications were given, and we had a quick chinwag-waffling session. Then, off Chris trotted.
Two sunset photos were taken as I went to check that I’d not left the oven on high and the hot water tap running, too. Tsk! Nitwit! I assembled the needs to cook the beef in gravy and make oven-cube roast potatoes. I’d accrued a bit of enthusiasm for this meal-making Everything is in place; I got the oven warming up for the potatoes. Carer Chris arrived. His last call of the day. I told him of my losing the thousands of photos from the computer. And that I was struggling to get some more taken to replace them. Chris took some snaps of me on the computer without me realising while he was making up the medications. I found them on the camera after he’d gone. Bless him. Here’s one of them. I must have been in mid-moan status as I appeared to be grumbling over something on the computer screen. Another cock-up?
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – The cook-in-the-bag beef and gravy that looked so fatty would be cooked in the microwave oven. It takes five minutes, but I found the nouse to use the necklace timer as I put the potatoes in the preheated oven. I knew that they would take around 40 minutes, so I set the timer on my neck for 30 minutes, and then I got the meat in the microwave. The chunks of fat in the bag merged with the gravy, and it tasted okay to yours truly!
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – I woke up, not that I was too interested in doing so. Late around 06:00hrs. I went into an instant seizure and sat there on the bed for an hour or so. I don’t know what I was thinking, which is probably a good thing. Felt well enough… well, physically, to climb out of the bed. The night pouch had over 900ml of urine in it. I emptied it, sealed the bags for disposal and washed my hands. It was as if I’d blinked. I found myself in the kitchen, cleaning the sink. I must get someone to phone the Doctors for me – and get some help getting ready for and going there. I’m back into another seizure and found I’ve made a brew of Glengettie. Things are getting daft. That’s not the word.
Carer Richard arrived and sorted out the medications. I sense that I moaned about things and listened to his replies, but I’m unsure. His legs are bad again; Richard returned in the heavy-duty leggings this morning.
As Richard departed, I had a Dizzy Dennis visit. A bad one this time. I just climbed back on top of the bed to rest a bit. I say a bit; I didn’t wake up until nearly midday! Sod, all done, tons to get done. Starting with the Porcelain Throne visit. It hurt more than yesterday’s. The farting little day punch filled up while I washing, and the weight took the tube down the leg. Little Inchie took the brunt of it. I was fed up already! Mind you, it was late. It’s afternoon already now! And all the extra work to be done on the computer. When am I going to get the shower and shave? I found these photos when I got on the computer.
I must have taken them during my first reluctant rise before Richard arrived, although I don’t know anything for sure in my current state.
I could not make much headway with the blog. I had to keep making things to replace the thousands of graphics I had created and lost yesterday. Or was it on Sunday? Obviously, the concentration was not good, and things were getting worse. As the seizures eased and the catheter had been emptied for about the eighth time, Carer Chloe arrived. She took this photo of the stupid, harmful, annoying, frustrating, miniscule day pouch fitted. I apologised for boring her with my moaning and thanked her as she departed.
I went out onto the balcony and took a couple of shots of the cloudy sky. They held a beauty to me, however low I was feeling. I’m getting sick to the teeth listening to myself gripe about my bad luck, but I have to say, I’m having a lot of it.
It seemed to get misty again.
When I got back on the computer, I was more baffled than ever about what I was doing and what I needed to do. I had to sidetrack to get things I’d have normally used from the CD file, and then I started doing something else instead. I was well peed off with things. That is putting it mildly.
I used the new Kodak on these shots of the mist.
Carer Precious arrived. With me getting up so late, I thought it was about 13:00 hrs… it was 17:35 hrs! The lad issued the evening medications and gave me a bit of help on the computer. I was struggling with having to make a new spreadsheet for the health checks after deleting four years’ worth. It’s many years since I’ve had to make one, but the new methods and layout in XL had me beat. He sorted it in three minutes. Thanks, mate! 👍🏼
To the wet room. The scab had come off the knee injury from when I took another tumble. The bottom of the leg had gone down a lot, but not the knee area
Constipation Conrad must have taken a vacation yesterday cause he’s back again. Arghh!
Got the computer on. And was doing nicely, I thought. Which for an hour or so, I was… Then… When I tried to save the work done on CorelDraw, messages told me there was not enough memory to save the file. Try saving in a different location or with a different name.
I tried doing this several times but had no luck. I bet you are not surprised by that! Then, the message on the screen changed. I can’t recall exactly, but it said something like, “You are using memory while it is not there.” Remove as many unwanted files as you can, then try again. What a cock-up I made of this!
At one point, I stopped swearing, spitting, and howling and cried instead. But anger replaced the frustration. I tried all the earlier options again and deleted as much as possible. I found an NHS folder and opened it; there was nothing in there, so I deleted it. Then, a file I could not recognise was empty as well. Gobblediclonk! I turned of and restarted the computer, not expecting that the CorelDraw would have saved the working file, but it had, well, most of it. I tried saving it to another name in a different folder, and wallah, it saved. I was over the moon!
I TRIED TO UPLOAD FROM THE CORELDRAW FILES! THEY HAD ALL DISAPPEARED! I’d earlier updated the Labels file with one for each day of September and the WordPress Templates for the same period. Finding they had disappeared is when the tears flowed! I also lost all of my photographs, puzzles, labels, WP items, and others I can’t recall. I keep realising when I go to open the non-existent items to use. There are no health check listings or appointment dates and times. I’ll find more later, I know it. I now have to start them all from scratch again. Grrr! Boy was, am I miffed! What a pillock!
I then rang a computer repair place, well emailed them asking if they do home visits and roughly described my problems with the computer, and there are plenty of them. Then, I tried a different one: The Computer Man. After using their website to email them, I discovered they are an amalgamation of computer engineers. They will contact me when they can. I might have been better off not using them. Ah, well, it’s too late now. Whoever answers first, I suppose. Computing took me at least five times more time as I had to recreate lost items constantly. It was irritating.
I can’t get around to messages, comments, or WP Reader. And with my short-term memory, I keep forgetting the new locations of what bits I have started to recreate and need to use.
Just look at this later catheter bag emptying colour. It seems more like the colour of weak tea! The problems mount up. I wish some help would.
I’ve spent endless hours trying to get going again, but it’s so slow, and I’m getting knackered now. 23:00hrs.
I did get a bit of excitement.
I saw the smoke on the horison and took the above shots.
I’m tired out, hungry, dirty from not showering & shaving, depressed, frustrated and plain fed-up!
I’m confused as well. I’ll see if I can stay awake enough to go on the WP Reader and comments. I did, but I didn’t really enjoy having to rush things. It limits the pleasure. There is some fine poetry and photography today.
Took a decent shot of the early evening sky.
This is the window I forgot to close and hit my head on when I was prepping a meal.
Then, I took this terrible shot later while checking how the cooking was progressing.
.
A liver, bacon and mash ready-made meal. Bacon and some instant mash were added.
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – I didn’t, but I got two of them – Hehe! – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
Yet another frustrating day. I’ve had enough, I have to say, Lost files, more time will be lost, thrown away, Computer, health problems, depressionally, More battles physically & mentally, Mind you, the scabs fell off of my knee! The one thing in which I was lucky.
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – I’d like, just once again, to see the sea,
After the heart op, when things were dodgy…
I went with Brother-in-law, Petey,
Years later, with a resident’s party…
We got there, and they all abandoned me,
Well, they had their family with them, you see,
Walked for 6-hours, feeling a midge lonely,
I’d sooner have a mental & physical amnesty,
But that’s impossible, as you see,
Early this morning, l meandered amiably,
Shelled the peas, losing about twenty!
But I did recover two or three,
Then things sank, suddenly miserably,
Depression uncloaked, unavoidably,
Off went my limited mental agility,
Back came my situational acceptancy,
Started this ode hoping & believingly,
To fight off the depression, incredulously,
I coped with Peripheral Neuropathy…
Cartilage and Catheter pains, agony,
Earache Erasmus & Toothache Tiffany,
Sandra’s Seizures, Diabetic Polyneuropathy.
Dracula Depressions got the better of me! Life is just a Whigmaleerie!
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
I stirred into an unwanted imitation existence around 05:00 hrs. It was not the usual bursting awake this time. It was more of a gradual, reluctant acceptance of whatever the day ahead held for me, but not with any hopes or expectancy for anything I would really like or want. That was a bad start, emotionally.
The nocturnal and the day bag pouch it attached to were almost empty. Jiggling the large night bag and spinning it around before throwing it away from me onto the carpet did the trick. A deluge of wee-wee came through from the bladder, through the day and into the night bag. But there was not a lot of it. With flowing so quickly, I thought it would be much fuller. I also thought I could sense some flow-back. But of course, what do I know.
I pottered about, unhurriedly getting out of bed and in a semi-upright position. Off to the kitchen to check that the taps and cooker had not been left on
Then, I took this snap of the morning view without my usual enthusiasm. I think my EQ was trying to tell me something. I was not in a depressed state, just a little low, perhaps. Had lost his total control. Yet the pain was still there throughout the evacuational activity. Also, it was a mess to clean up on me and the porcelain bowl. This took me some time. I was not bothered; my interest in anything was slowly evaporating. I just wasn’t concerned, and that’s not me. I thought I was moving onto a new level, degree or platform in life, the next stage. Moments after this, I was doing the ablutions, having a stand-up wash and shave… and singing away to myself? Frank Ifields, ‘She Taught Me to Yodel’ I put my feet in a bowl of water with some Dettol and stood in it while I brushed my teeth and shaved. Only one was unseen; it was cut in the neck hole at the back. I dropped the shaving foam, which landed in the bowl and hit the ingrowing toenail on my right foot. I laughed it off, honestly! I freshened up the wet room before leaving.
I removed the reserve camera, with which I took most of today’s shots, from the new extension thingamabob in the hallway. It worked a treat. Also, I could use the clothes airer at the same time now to dry my towels. I felt around the plastic to see if anything had heated up overnight, but they all seemed cool.
There was an almost cheery period, then for an hour or so, during which I reverted to worrying about things but ignored any signs of depression. I think it was lurking, ready for a comeback, but I would not let it do so then! I got a large waste bag made up from the other three bins and popped it near the front door.
Carer Precious arrived. I showed him the scars from Cathy Catheters’ Contraption, with the small bag and extra-large hose that meant the release valve now hangs down to my right foot! Humph! I asked him if he would take a photo of the affected area of the catheter. He took an unintended photo of his own foot first. Hehehe!
I’m growing two eyes, a nose and a mouth on my catheter-injured leg.
Pareidoliaing, again. Haha!
I took a terrible photo halfway through shelling the last of the gorgeous fresh garden peas. I managed to drop no end, but I got three escapees back. Gulp-Swallow!
I put the peas into a basin ready to cook later. While I was doing these, there were no signs of Dark Dank Depression Duncan.
I forgot to ask Carer Precious to take the waste bag with him. I added a small one with some clothes no longer needed, I can’t get into them nowadays, to the other near the front door. Well, I’ve not got a back door in the flat. Har-har!
did the midday call. No meds were needed.
I did some work on this blog, and I feel better now. (Why do I say things like that? (It’s tempting fate!) After a laugh and someone to talk to.
Dizzy Dennis attacked as I got down to empty the tiny, so long, low-day pouch. Down I went. As tumbles go, it was not too bad a one. But foolish me, though, even after banging the knees and upsetting Arthur Itis and Cartilage Carole, that I could get up again easily enough. HUH!
Oh, no, not me. I saw the accumulated mess underneath the c1962 counter. I thought it would be a good idea while I was down there on the floor to clear some out. So, I grabbed the bigger picker-upperer. I started to try to remove some of the detritus hidden from normal view. What a Mistaker to Maker!
As I stretched underneath, my already bruised right knee was scratched and bruised by an old tablet bottle that shattered with the weight of my leg. I’m not surprised by the size of the leg that was blown up in this photo. The patella has merged with the surrounding flash and can hardly be identified. Haha! So, after trying a few times, you can see why I could not get back up after all!
I pressed the wristlet alarm to ask for help getting on my feet. However, it took a while to get an answer, and by then, I was just in the last stage of getting over the pure agony of getting on my feet.
The legs and feet continued to be painful for ages, but nothing compared to testing the knees in getting up. The size of the right leg was astronomical! That would be either Peripheral Neuropathy or Diabetic Neuropathy. Either way, it still hurts. Sympathy Seeking Again!
After getting a brew of Gleangettie,I wondered why old people often think a mug of tea is going to help. But it might have anyway. Twenty minutes later, the swelling of the leg stopped, and I could almost hear gurgling as it went down as quick as it went up. That reminds me of a Grizelda quote. It got better. Thirty minutes later, the leg had blown up again!
I went to put the meat in the oven, make another mug of tea, and take this snap of the front car park. called, and I grabbed the nearest thing to keep my balance. Unfortunately, it was the near-boiling kettle! So, in a flash, I used my right hand on the hot oven door. This week, a selection of finger, knuckle and hand burns has been collated and collected.
I’m unsure which kneecap hurts most; it’s a close call. Oh, yes! Advantage Left Knee. Putting up with the crippling mini-bagged Catheter, the thick extra-long tube, and the flesh-cutting straps. A mention in despatches for Little Inchie.
Time to check on the meal’s progress.
The meal was a fine one. Photographed conscientiously, twice, to get a better one than the first. Eaten with great relish. creating such a satisfying feast cannot be imagined,
When it came time to put the photo on the SD card, there wasn’t one in the camera; I’d left it on the computer.
It’s not been a particularly good day at all.
Carer Ahyu arrived, medications were given, and I showed him my injured legs and knee.
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – It was back on the computer after making another brew of Gengettie to go cold. The first severe bout of occurred.
It lasted about half an hour.
Not much blogging got done.
I’m going to get to bed now. Well, when Carer Ayhu has been.
I may have another nibble… oh, have I had a meal? Blow it, I have a snack. I got the oven on to warm up and make some chips. The Carer arrived, and I went into a mini-seizure as he came. Ayou, I think it was. No idea what took place.
Then, within seconds of his leaving, I banged my already battered knee against the cooker door. There’s a sub-storyline to this. I’d visited the kitchen to check on the oven’s heat and realised I had not even turned the oven on! In my bout of self-disgust, the door dropped and hit the poor knee from the fall. But it did knock of the scab, so that was good.
If I ever find that scab is open to discussion. It’ll be somewhere, probably snuggling up to the by now, dried solid dropped peas over the last few days… Hehe! Oh, and maybe one may have bounced into the disappeared bottle cap? I turned on the oven to the maximum to heat it up quickly. I returned to the computer, intending to save all the work on CorelDraw, MS Word, Excel and WordPress and turn it off.
It’s not been a particularly good day at all.
I heard a clattering noise from, I assumed, the kitchenette. Hobbled back hastily, in a Sherlock Holmesian mode, to investigate. Oh, dearie,
the stack of washing from the main meal had fallen from the draining board rack onto and all over the floor! All the bending to retrieve them was too painful, so I fetched the long picker-upperer to use.
At last, I came across the missing bottle cap and two more dried-like ball bearings peas.
Then I rewashed the fallen basin, plate, and cutlery.
It’s been a long, trying day.
The chips were undercooked, and the beetroot was harder than the ball-bearing peas on the kitchen floor. The eggs and yoghourt were okay.
Once again, I washed up. I’m fed up with this, Hehe! It’s a little harder now that the carer has attached the nocturnal catheter bag. One tends to carry the night bag on its elongated tube and put it down when two hands are needed, as when washing and drying the pots. Then you walk to do something else, forgetting the 5-foot tubing and bag of your urine that you are dragging along the floor behind you. Inevitably:
The bag catches against something, and you carry on hobbling… until the pain from poor Little gets sent to your brain. You feel .
You usually curse a little as you get some kitchen towelling to stem the flow of the red stuff. Then, make your way as hastily as possible to the wet room before the Protection Pants overflow. This is what I did! But things were worse this time.
The bleed was a smidge stronger than expected. So, after cleaning up my lower regions, I checked that the tube had not come out or worked loose of Little Inchy. It’s all okay!
Then you see that some blood had run all down your leg and partly covered the daddy urine bag, which by now was resting on top of your left foot! I used a whole kitchen roll and the picker-upperer to clean things. I was too tired to even think of using the shower, and it was far too early in the morning to disturb the other residents with the noise of the shower. I cleaned up as best I could under the circumstances.
Having to bend down so often scared me a bit after what happened with Dizzy Dennis earlier with the tumble.
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I managed 4hrs kip on the trot. But by then, it was time to get up
Which I, Oh, so reluctantly did.
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