– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – My body & brain seemed clumsier,
Concentrationless, forever making a blunder,
Concentration Conrad, trouble with the catheter… But compared to Thursday, I was feeling chirpier, Then, this morning, I turned into a grumbler, The power supply died well before it got darker… Life felt it was just too much hassle and bother, I turned into a frustrated, dispirited, sad creature! Everything went wrong, tormenting, crueller, I got the power supply back within the hour, I awaited life’s next unredeeming feature… At this, I admit I felt a little perkier, Why I felt ‘up’ is up for conjecture… The colour swatches disappeared from CorelDraw, The batteries expired in the Kodak camera, Liberty-Global, Virgin Media… Drove me to the point of hysteria! Blackout! No internet, TV, Alarm help-caller… Was it down, or did I make another blunder,
I called on my mobile to Warden Deana,
Asked if anyone else had lost their Virgin Media,
Many had, so I was in a confused megillah…
The computer came back on, I had a self-ponder,
So far behind now, a frustrated old blogger,
Hopes of catching up are less than minuscular,
I had to restart four-times on the computer,
Resigning in on all the sites, regular, Then, once again, I lost the power… I reset the box as a chuntering inveigher! I hope I didn’t move the wrong relayer, I exist in almost total disorder… Now joined by my mental dyspraxia, No socialisationing, so no clishmaclaver! Life, to me, is a shyster, racketeer, & fraudster.
1) I was so far behind with the blogging.
2) I lost the notebook page by tearing it off the pad to do another in a failed effort to save time. I have no reminder notes; I can only use my memory with hints from the photographs the computer allowed me to save.
3) Mind-Mangling-Malcolm, Seizure-Soaked-Sandra, Concentration-Crusher-Konrad.
4) After the third computer cleaning of the day (there were two more), I tried to save some CorelDraw rectangles to a file to save new things to the same name and then changed the name to suit the photo. Great idea, I thought. Three hours later, as I was saving the last one, which was saved, the eleven ones done earlier disappeared!
5). Depression Duncan Dawned.
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – Bit of blood mixed in the nocturnal bag?
Morning views.
My beloved tree copse. I’d love to have a hobble through it again. But…
Late evening view.
Beef in rich stout gravy. With added chopped red onions. Cooked in the microwave, using the new Heat & Eat vented box. Potato chunks cooked in the Air Fryer. Brown ready-sliced cobs and an expensive Pots & Co. Lemon & Lime Posset.
So naughty, but nice!
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – I found seven in ten minutes! Ah, I’ve just found the eighth, a stud on his right boot! – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
Boy, did I sleep better? Yes, I did? Did you? Oh, yes! I must stop talking to myself!
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – TTFN, thanks for reading my blog!
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – There is a reason for the lack of header graphics, and it has nothing to do with the computer, CorelDraw, or MS Excel.
I’ll tell yers…
I woke up feeling pretty good and started to update yesterday’s (Tues) blog. I was doing well… until just before the first Carer came. Shakes, Shivers, Electric Shocks, and Double Vision all kicked of together instantly. I could not type, let alone think what to type. I turned off the computer, wrapped a quilt around myself and got down on the second-hand, c1968, eyesorely-horrendously grungy beige-coloured, £300, charity shop bought, crumb-retaining, microorganism-microbe producing, gungy, moth-eaten, beige-coloured, non-working, bacillus encouraging, incommodious, Haemorrhoid Harold testing, c1968 recliner. I got an extra dressing gown and a woolly hat on and ensured that there was plenty of spring water to hand; food at that time was not an option. As Feeling Billious, Bill joined in on the ailments.
08:00hrs: Carer Sham, I think it was who came in. She showed surprise and concern at how deathly pale I looked and said the shivering was noticeable. She rearranged the quilt over me, put on the diabetic socks, and made sure I had the emergency wristlet alarm on.
Poorly as I felt, I could only manage the odd few minutes of sleep before springing awake. The shakes and shivers did not relent. My stomach was now rumbling, I tried to get up to go to the toilet, but the Cartilages gave way, so I had to stay where I was, hoping to avoid another embarrassment. Around 12:00hrs, Carer Chloe, I think, arrived. She got the quilt off of the bed to wrap me up snuggly.
The brain was not working correctly; sleep still resisting.
17:00 hrs: The caregiver arrived. Chloe, again, I think it was. No, Kimberley. She made another bottle of spring water for me; I had a thirst like never before. I asked her to put the night pouch on earlier than usual because bending down to empty the little day bag so often was painful in the hope of getting some sleep.
I sat there, wrapped up, shivering and shaking for 13 hours or so. But precious little sleep.
I did nod off for a time late on. I woke in need of the Porcelain Throne. I unwrapped myself, noticing the shivering was no longer with me. The shaking was, but far less severe. But the cartilage had fooled me before, so I used two sticks to get to the WC. It was a Trotsky Terence job again.
So, feeling better, I got on the computer to finish what bit of a blog I’d done for Tuesday and posted it.
Got back on the c1968, non-operational, tatty, scruffy, unkempt, uncomfortable, germ-breeding, Harold Haemorrhoid-Testing, sickenly beige-coloured recliner, and tried failingly to get some sleep again.
Around 04:00hrs, I gingerly rose from the second-hand, c1968, eyesorely-horrendously grungy beige-coloured, £300, charity shop bought, crumb-retaining, microorganism-microbe producing, gungy, moth-eaten, beige-coloured, non-working, bacillus encouraging, incommodious, Haemorrhoid Harold testing, Catheter-Tube-Tugging c1968 recliner.
I was more with it now; the state of the flat shocked me! A tray that presumably had food that I can’t remember eating, the bed quilts all over the place, and bits of tissue all over the floor. And, honestly, eight empty Frazzle packets were in the bin! The picker-upperer, shoe horn, an empty water bottle, well, two of them, and the returned laundry bag that I knew nothing about were on the floor.
No electricity bills – it’s been cut off! Now, can everyone stop labelling me a crook, pensioner-pincher?
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – I learnt today that my DNA was adenoviral… Dying neurotransmitters made it aetiological… To my brain, this was not logical… It sounded pretty comical, Most of my problems are neurological, But this ailment may be attenuable… That was a shock, unbelievable! Me? Get an ailment that’s treatable? Possibly, maybe perhaps, even curable! The hope is to make this abrogable, I thought this test result may be apocryphal, He said it could be operationable… There’s a chance your heart may go asystole, “That’ll be fine; it’ll save me buying a pistol!” He frowned & said; Are you suicidal? “No, it was a joke, I was being risible! He laughed, saying, “Haha, some people!” – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
The first visit to the WC was a Constipation Conrad torpedo of mammoth proportions, which pleased me, given the upcoming medical visits later today. There is less chance of embarrassment from any leaks.
I got on the computer to finish Monday’s blog. Then, most surprisingly, I was summoned to the porcelain Throne again. I was even more amazed at Trotsky Terence in control again! Which made me feel a fool for mentioning how pleased I was with Constipation Conrad. Now, I think the opposite. Coping with the bloody catheter is bad enough, especially with having to wear trousers again, the first time in months. I regained the worry over any leaks from the catheter or it filling up while I was out; now I fear things may escape from the rear end! I pressed on with starting this blog. And half an hour into the job – unbloody-believable!
This third visit was messy and ultra-gooey in the extreme! It’s a good job that I have plenty of toilet paper and air freshener to hand in the wet room. Now, I worry about the bus journeys to and from the medics. Can I avoid any getting on and off of the bus? Will there be any waiting for what is needed? That will give it more time to leak or burst on the bus or during surgery. And walking is not an option anymore. That would take me an hour each way and almost guarantee an on the trips to and from Sherwood. It turned out to be a lot longer.
Stopping here, wait for the caregiver, put on socks, take medications, and then do the ablutions. Then, sort out what is needed for the trip and leave before midday for the surgery: bus pass, collapsable walking stick, Medical card, appointment card, and log book. Empty the catheter bag, wear new PPs, and wear trousers. Oh, and hearing aids and put on long-distance spectacles.+ Keys.
It’s all a challenge that no one should have to go through. But, with no one to help, I must sort it out myself.
Life can be a @?*⇓⊗! No! Life is a @?*⇓⊗!.
Care Christopher arrived and put on my socks. He also took the laundry bag at my request. I haven’t received it yet, but it’s only been 25 hours so far. Oh, I get them back.
Care Sam came later. She could see the state I was in with my nerves. She kindly helped me get the things together for the journey-to-hell send-back. (Well, it was a struggle, as I hope you will read about later.) Sam kindly walked me to the bus stop, which was kind of her. When leaving the flat, she returned to get my hat, which I had forgotten to put on. But, waiting for the bus, I remembered the last time I went on one and fell getting onto the bus, and then off of it!
I chickened out and walked down Winchester Street Hill into Sherwood, carefully and slowly. The famously cracked pavements were now covered with leaves in sheltered areas, and it was difficult to manoeuvre the three-wheeled-walker when hitting leaf-covered potholes. No falls yet. I reached the bottom of Winchester Street and went up Mansfield Road to the supposedly arranged flu jab at the top chemist. On the way up the hill, I called in the Co-op and got some food. As I walked up towards the chemist, the atmosphere was bleak. Nine people on that short stretch of the incline sat in closed shop doorways with the traditional pot of coffee, begging and giving out depressing stares that could melt you if you looked back at them. Poor devils or con men?
I plodded up the hill to the chemists, taking my time so I wasn’t too early for the flu jab appointment. Whoopsiedangleplop. The lady said I was not booked for a jab, and anyway, the lady who does them is not in on Tuesdays. I explained that my caregiver had rung to make the appointment, but she may have made it at a different chemist. I might not have explained which one very carefully. I think I was in a mini-seizure when she made the calls. She recommended I try the bottom chemist, a quarter of a mile down the hill and almost up the high point on the right. So I began the long trek down and up Mansfield Road to the second chemist to investigate. I got so far down and remembered there was a chemist to the north that the Carer might have booked me in with. Turned around, passing the Co-op and first chemist back up the hill and down to the Daybrook Chemist. I was feeling knackered by then! Got there. So, back up the Mansfield Road Hill to Sherwood, down through Sherwood to the chemist.
Nope, I wasn’t booked in with him either. He rang other chemists without any luck. But Carrington Chemist could do me now and give me the COVID-19 jab.
It was another dangerous trip over the hill and down into Carrington. Before crossing any roads, the pavements and high steps on that route need working out.
Finally, I got there and was told they would not start the injections for 20 minutes. ‘Take a seat’; I was told in a way that dared not take one. So, I sat down, knowing the agony I’d be in when standing up again from Cartilages Chloe & Carole! With all the walking and hobbling, fighting to keep three-wheeled-walker-wally from tipping over, that I’d done.
I was first in the queue, though. I got into the treatment room. The lady said she could not give me the DVT procedure but did give me the COVID and Flu jabs. An assistant stopped me on my way out. She had some Prescriptions that I could take with me. Which, hopefully, will mean Carer Richard will not have to fetch them for me this week. I must remember to tell the Carers later on about this.
Then, the long slog back up the Mansfield Road hill and down into Sherwood began.
I crossed the road to return on that side, thinking the pavements might be easier to navigate. They weren’t. I pressed on steadily and carefully.
I did not experience arm pain, but there were plenty from the Cartilages. The arm aches started when I got into the flat. I called into the continental shop and got some food. Then, I finally reached the bottom of Winchester Street. I have no idea of the bus timings nowadays, so I hastened… Haha! And hobbled up Winchester to the bus stop.
Luckily a bus was due in six minutes.
I stood up on the bus. I didn’t want to start Chloe and Carole off again. The arms were twinging a little now, not as bad as later on, and in the morning, Wow!
Gt in the flats, said hello to Warden Julie as I passed, and up to the flat. Food & sleep, I’m sure, were primarily on my mind.
And boy, after eating, (I took a snap of the meal as I recall, and the batteries ran out in Kodak Tim. Did I sleep? Yep! I slept for about 14 hours!
I was so chuffed with my handling all of the confusion, Although, at times, it seemed like a hallucination, Sorting the chemistas out crippled my bunion! I felt like I’d walked to and back from Euston! It was painful to free myself from inaction, I suffered incapacitation but had an incarnation. Despite the pain from the Covid and Flu injections, And having to face averbal inquisition, I say this with no doubts but justification…
I believe this should/could be achievable…
Twice a week, if the weather is allowable…
I’ll take a walk around the flats, well, a hobble!
It may be stopped by Bunion Baz or Cartilage Carol,
Inchies, Fungal lesion, Diabetes, things Peripheral,
Seizures Sandra, Sham’s Shocks electrical,
No problem, I can always reschedule!
The hobble will naturally start off ephemeral…
If this goes well, and my body is permissible,
Although these plans sound frangible…
My new power may make them possible!
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – I don’t want anyone to think I’m jealous of their wealth & power. Or that could gladly assassinate the pensioner-killer Starmer for his heartless crippling and murdering pensioners by taking away their winter fuel allowance. Or his lying by omission to get elected. Or, his taking back-handers worth hundreds of thousands of pounds. His bland, conceited, self-wealth improving, voter-contempt, but I am.
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
After yet another night of jumping awake, at 05:00, I gave up trying for the elusive sleep, and I gingerly removed the nocturnal catheter pouch, grabbed a hold of and off to the kitchen for safety checks and got the kettle on. The taps, cooker and fridge looked okay, and I had what must have been one of the longest-ever bubbly-sounding passings of wind that I can ever remember. It was pongy and two-tone at times! I diverted to the wet room without any delay.
I got seated, but nothing more than wind came out for ages. Once the motion began, I thought that would never end!
It was like wet mud to look at in the bowl. This time, it was three-coloured: black spots with light and dark brown.
Cleaning it up took me years. I managed to knock over, and he fell against the floor cabinet. I then had one less bottle of the Glaucoma Latanoprost eye drops; the cap shot off.
MAYHEM – POWER CUTS At this stage of writing this, I had a power cut! I lost all my notes and reminders, but I did get some photos, and such mayhem and panic have not hit me so badly in ages.
I was stuck in total darkness; it was late evening then.
The notes from earlier in the day were found, but not the late ones that were on Word, which got lost in a total of four Poer-Cuts suffered over a three-hour period.
Obviously, I could not do any blogging or emailing anything on the computer until Thursday morning. (Now)
POWER-CUT DISASTER STORIES
1️⃣ I was cooking the meal. Sudden darkness, absolute darkness. Panic gripped me. I searched for the mobile and wind-up torch. At that time, I could not find the torch. So, had to use the light of the mobile to get around. My intention was to make sure the cooker had been turned off. Then I realised that things were worse than I thought. The battery on the mobile was weakening, and I needed it to call for help because the Alarm Alert line & landlines were not working. I rang the preciously kind Jenny to ask for advice on getting help. I didn’t know the numbers to ring. Jenny, being Jenny, bless her, said she would come up to have a look. She’d just got out of the shower. I felt embarrassed.
2️⃣ Jenny came in; I didn’t hear her, and she did something on the power box, and the power came back on. I told her what I was doing, and she spoke with someone on the back-on-line emergency alert line again. She turned off the cooker at the box. Told me not to use it until it’s been checked over. She
said, ‘I’m was to ring her in ten minutes to update her on the situation’. I’d be lost without Jenny.
3️⃣ Ten minutes later, the power went off again. This time, I was again in the kitchen, and as it was dark, I turned to get the stick, tripped on something, and fell, hitting my face on the radiator. Jenny returned again. She reset the power and asked if I’d used the cooker, which I hadn’t. The power was now restored by Jenny, and the telephones & alarm came back on. Jenny spoke with them again. Jenny reminded me not to use the cooker, but I could use the microwave.
4️⃣ I started to sort out a different meal that could be cooked in the microwave, and the Power died again! Jenny came to the rescue once more! She restored the power supply yet again and told me she would report things to the authorities for me in the morning. If it does go off again, I was to ring her. Reminding me not to use the kettle or cooker.
Thankfully, the power stayed on, and I finished the oddly cooked beef in black bean sauce. Cleaned up the kitchen and settled to eat the meal, watching ‘Heartbeat’ on the TV. Thinking about how things would have gone without Jenny’s help. Precious, inestimable, & helpful. ♥
The following may be out of order, with part of the reminders lost in the power cuts, but these things did occur. I think.
Carers Shaquille, Israel & Kimberly called. Kimberly helped me get an appointment with the doctor and the Chemist for the flu jab sorted for me. Flu Tuesday 5th Nov, and the RSC at the surgery Monday 11th Nov, in Carrington.
Yesterday, during the power failures, I lost every photograph I had previously taken and saved to file. Arghh!
And also, I can’t use my cooker or kettle,
I still can’t manually pittle,
Electric shocks up my leg, still tingle,
The catheter tube is so painful!
My lack of sleep is diabolical,
My memory gets more fragmental,
Waiting for Glaucoma lasering at the Hospital,
Life is no longer worth being experimental,
The hot tap runs at barely a trickle,
Plans, wants & needs are theoretical,
Thoughts, hopes are unphilosophical,
Like this ode, there are unpoetical,
I’m verging on becoming pathetical,
My dreams are all sarcophagal,
Getting on my rear-end a carbuncle!
My concentration, once congenital,
It is now non-existent, gone, choplogical,
Depressions, fears, worries, self-inimical,
Mentally, life is a scramble, a scrattle…
With myself, every day, I battle,
I once socialised, now I feel extrinsical.
Life’s become eristical & demagogical!
Now, with cock-up, & outages electrical,
No kettle or stove, it ruins things gastronomical, I need someone clever, kind, & intellectual… A Doctor who deals with things lunatical? To read this Poesy or Limerick, About me being physically & mentally sick, Use their skills of the neuropsychologic, They may advise summat neuroradiologic? Issue medications that may do the trick, With mayhap periwinkle & phenobarbital, Or operate on my sincipital? If it was all a film, it would be tragicomical, But, primarily pointless and illogical!.
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – Are your thoughts often erratic? Are your underpants made of plastic? Are, were you ever a Eurosceptic? Potassium permanganate is an antiseptic! Should you learn & speak Esperantic? What makes you feel ecstatic? Why do you take drugs to be sadomasochistic? Do you ever get over-emotionalistic? What Jamaican food is escoveitch? What’d you do if you became rich? Are your knees & cartilage rheumatic? Do you know the word, ochlophobic? Have you dreamed of being omnific? Personally, I think that would be terrific! I’d get my Glaucoma fixed at the clinic! – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – Regretfully, the computer did not let me save many pictures today. I have not recorded my thoughts here to avoid being prosecuted for blogging them, as they were unacceptable for publication. Cragnangles!
I stirred back into semi-life 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. I’d not made it into the bed, the carer came later than usual, and I was too tired to bother with climbing into bed with all the risk involved; the catheter possibly leaking and my getting the clothes off. So I stayed in the chair. But could I get to sleep? Well, yes, actually, and I did dozens of times. But I was waking up with a jump, sometimes accompanied by an shock up my right leg. I was waking up so often so often. I gave up on the silly thought and expectation of getting any sleep and got up around 04:00hrs. The first thing I noticed as the brain fog cleared was the scary colour of the urine in the catheter bag as I removed it from the day pouch. I took a cracking snap of it, and it came out the exact same colour & hue as my eyes saw it. That might get me some sympathy, I thought. But, no!
Much later, after the usual morning farces had been completed, the computer was not letting me save many pictures of graphics. It arbitrarily allowed a few to be saved, but the others it refused and removed the ones of the same name I was attempting to save them as! I had neither the willpower nor the urge to make them all again, for fear that it may be the same next time I tried. It was soul-destroying!
I got on the computer and had to go through the memory-saving farce repeatedly. And with having to sign back in on every site, I lost endless time, many hours spent finding the passwords to do so. My memory lets me down every single day. Blasted Dementia Doreen, & the computer are to blame, not me. Huh!
Carer Richard arrived. He gives me advice, but my ability to do what is told is limited. The lad brought up my laundry bag, which he spotted on his way up. Bless him. The slipper I’d filled with wee-wee yesterday was returned, a child’s camouflaged face mask, an odd brown sock (not mine), and a broken, damp Smarties tube in the bag. One of the dressing gown waist belts was knotted in three places, and all the sleeves were inside out. But things like this are 🎵’Not unusual’🎵, as Tom Jones sang. Hehe!
After Richard had left, the need for the Porcelain Throne arose, and I hastened to the wet room. I sat down in time today, avoiding a third day of embarrassment by not making it in time! Trotsky Terence ruled again, as I knew he would by the rumbling and almost squelching from the innards.
But this time, soft chunks of… a browny-green colour! Ooher! What next?
SUPRISE FRACAS ONE I was getting increasingly frustrated with the computer and went to the kitchen to do the safety checks. During last night’s cooking, I discovered that I’d left the slow cooker turned on for about 18 hours without realising because there was nothing in it. Well, there are now cracks in the pottery bowl! At least one bit of luck helped ease things. Yes! The fire alarm did not go off again as I ran water on the bowl in the sink, and steam filled the kitchen. No new burns, either!
I cleaned the mess up and went back to the computer. I went through the cleaning routine. After the rigmarole was completed for the third time today, it let me save photos of it its own choice but not others. I’m fed up! Here they are. I snapped these first thing this morning. But didn’t do such an excellent job of them as I’d hoped to this time. Then again, I’m not surprised, I suppose, not to be honest.
I was a smidge dispirited.
The photo I’d taken of the returned slipper was saved and used. Oh, I’d better check that they haven’t fallen off the towel trickle heater. They’ve all dried now, last night’s pee’d on tartan-coloured slipper I put in the laundry bag.
I can’t believe all the messes I get into nowadays.
SUPRISE FRACASES
Over seven days, I’ve had three tumbles, walked into the same doorframe three times and spent an estimated 32 extra hours on the computer trying & failing to sort out the memory. I also had two embarrassing accidents not getting to the Porcelain Throne on time. Oh, no, it was three. Thanks to Terence Trotsky! I’ve burnt two meals and saucepans, making messes to clean up. I left the slow cooker on for god knows how long, setting the fire alarm off. I left the hot water tap to run cold three times; luckily, the plug was not in the sink each time, so there were no floods.
As my cyber buddy Tim suggested, I’ve bought a stand-alone hard drive, but by some miracle, no one in the flats can or is willing to help me set it up for me. It could be the answer… maybe to the problem. But with my eyesight and memory, I dare not try to do it alone. I fear I could well make things worse and kill the computer.
A little after 16:00hrs, I typed away on this blog, and two screens appeared. Not the foggiest what they were about. I’m getting to the point of no return, I think.
Carer Kelvin called. Pointed out my nose was bleeding.
Medicated, he listened to my woes of the day. That was nice of him. He emptied the catheter-content jug for me and checked the kitchen stove and taps.
I finished here and got the bacon cooking for tonight’s meal. First, I’ll cut off the ginormous fat on it, then put it in the oven. I must remember it’s in there. I’ll use the buzzer timer, which might wake me if I fall asleep. Hehe!
I will be back in the morning to update you. Lamb burgers again, and I cooked them a lot longer today; they tasted lovely. I’ve got a food order coming in the morning.
My robotically-minded computer prevented the meal’s two photos from being saved. Humph! I’ll try to get up early to attend to the complete ablution work.
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – A new Google font here; it’s called Oregano.
Do you like it? Please let me know,
Ah, the ode; here’s how it does go…
The missus told me she was feeling chestier,
I said that’s my job and I took a gander… She gave me a swift backhander, We made up and had a mutual pander, She was a big gal, my Grizelda, It’s been over 20 years since I’ve held her, The best bits that I can remember… The sex was out-of-this-world, boshter! She made perfect sausages in batter, We cared not for technomania, No TV, computer – they didn’t matter, We both shared a nostomania… For sex, again and again, & more frequenter, My passion ended when I lost her… In heaven, I hope to find her… I’ll get her location from St Peter… It by chance I should again find her… I hope I’ll not still be wearing the catheter? – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – Andy is another furry who only needs his expressions; they are more transparent than if he had a voice. He loves a greenie and can get grumpy, but we all love him, including me!He regularly nods off cause he is sleepy,
Doug’s a real entertaining Kitty! – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – Huh! – – –
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – There are 5 Actually, Sorry– –
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
I stirred and passed wind rather violently and lay there feeling and listening to the birth of an in-my-tummy tsunami brewing up. There was no time for messing about. I needed to escape the clutches of the bed, free the nocturnal catheter pouch, and hasten to the Porcelain Throne ASAP! Once again, things didn’t go according to plan for me. After getting my night bag off in a flap, I went with Willie-the-Wooden-Walking-Stick to the wet room. En route, I knocked a bottle off the bed table and stubbed my toe. I almost tore off the dressing and nightgown, throwing them on the floor and plonked my bottie on the porcelain. The evacuation started before I got settled. I think it must be the liquidest evacuation I’ve ever suffered! And boy, did it reek! Yes, it did! The evacuation lasted about thirty seconds. It spattered everywhere. What a stinking mess I made of the wet room! It must have taken me thirty minutes to clean everything up. How some liquid got onto the floor is still unknown; splashbacks? Then, a real insult to injury. As I was doing the mopping up, I had to move the bucket, not an easy manoeuvre with Willie and the mop to contend with; the mop slipped from its resting place on the floor cabinet… the only part of my body it hit, was my on my foot’s Onychocryptosis: ingrowing toenail. As I was quietly cursing my luck, I caught the bucket, lifting my foot to ease the pain, and spilt some of the contents back onto the just-cleaned floor! What with the day catheter leaking down my leg and soaking my sock, slipper, foot and floor yesterday, the computer problems, and a lousy night’s sleep, now another embarrassing evacuation this morning, I got the feeling that I just might even be unluckier than I thought I was. Haha! I finished cleaning up and returned to the bed to tidy it up. This was when I noticed that the bottle I’d knocked off the ottoman in my rush to get to the had burst open and spilt on the same spot on the carpet that I’d involuntarily wee-weeded on Saturday! More cleaning up was required, and all I’d done was get up to visit the WC!
I decided to make a mug of tea. Once in the kitchenette, I got that ‘Oh, Dear’ feeling; had I left the taps running in the wet room? I went to check. Sod Me; I had. Now, there is no hot water to do my ablutions. This irked me a little, and I hobbled hastily out of the wet room, worrying if I’d left the kitchenette tap running! And walked into the door frame… I think I’m either addicted to shoulder-charging door frames, or the NHS needs to get a move-on in tending to my Glaucoma Gladys problem and eyesight! Still, it allowed me to discuss my concerns and how I couldn’t get help. Fair enough. I know I was only talking to a wooden doorframe about them, but the doorframe and I seem to have gotten closer over the years. We’ve become firm friends. Hahaha!
I won’t bore you with much about the computer, CorelDraw, and personal failures; just say I’m struggling more than ever.
An ailment that has been so kind to me these last few days has returned with a vengeance. This made things even more complicated to cope with on the computer. She must have visited me dozens of times, and after each one, I was lost as to what I was doing before she paid me each visit. I got in a right mess this afternoon with it. I thought I’d just run the Ccleaner. I went into a dipsy mode for ten minutes or so. I carried on doing the cleaning again. A window told me there was a problem with Norton, Google, and something else that meant nothing to me. A graph of Something Assistant’s workings, which I could not make any sense of, began. I didn’t know if I should minimise, close, or leave it running. I left it running and went to get a cold water wash. I didn’t shave in cold water and dared not carry a kettle of hot water from the kitchen to the room.
I started cleaning up the kitchen a bit. Then I remembered I’d turned off the computer (which I hadn’t). I returned to the desk, and the Assistant thingy was still working in the graph window. I decided on another well-calculated risky guess or gamble and turned everything off without saving anything. The computer would not let me. Grumph & Clagknackers!
I washed my feet in a bowl of water, had an unfruitful search for my bus pass, and did a bit of muttering. Then I restarted the computer about an hour later. This was about teatime. The computer let me save some graphics (top) and photos to a file but stopped after allowing a few. I don’t want to tell you my reaction; it was, but desperately futile and dangerous come to mind. Desperate worried me the most. Hehe! Early this morning, I took this shot on the left from the kitchenette window. Why or how the computer let me save this one remains one of the mysteries of Woodthorpe Court, with the hobgoblins, spectres, gnomai, phantasms, grotesque succubae, lack of support, Whoopsiedangleplops, ailments, extraterrestrials, ectoplasms, spirits, Accifauxpas, rent increases, food price hikes, and the Fata Morganas, that have been sent to taunt, irritate and terminate my already limited saneness of mind? Still, never mind.
Awaiting the arrival of the evening carer now. It is too early to start cooking cause the Carer may come while I’m noshing. So, another late meal. It’s not that I’m really bothered.
Carer Ali (evening) arrived, and I told him about my terrible start to the day. We both laughed. I was given medications, and I went into the kitchen. The potatoes had boiled over and stained the cooker, floor, saucepan and counter! I was livid at myself! Carer Ali had to leave; he took the rubbish bag from the disaster with him to the waste chute. I had to clean the floor, counter, sink and saucepan. But I still have the lamb burgers in the oven. I’ll eat each of them with two slices of bread and some tomatoes if they are still edible. I even managed to add another burn to my knuckles, putting the assessed lamb back in the oven. It’s hard to select a word for how I feel without swearing!
I finished the burgers. I took photos of the saucepan, cooker, and so-called meal I’d made, but we’ll see if the computer will let me use them in the morning.
The story behind this miserable meal. I took this snap later after I found the potatoes had boiled dry in the saucepan and covered the cooker with bubbling, boiling salted water, and the new pan stained, and the handle melted!
This week has undoubtedly proven that I need more help.
Two failures to get to the Porcelain Throne in time.
Three times, the hot water tap was left running.
Two Catheter leaks that both left me with pee on my socks, feet, and the carpet.
I’m beginning to suffer more confusion and memory loss after each of the seizures.
I must ask a Carer to ring the Social for me, even if it means I must go to a home.
BONUS INCHY ODE
I thought I was depressed before,
I think I need help even more,
Eyesight, hearing & memory poor,
I’ve lost willpower & confidence, for sure!
Leaks from the rear-end and catheter,
I’m now a supreme new bruise getter…
A decent bloodletter & bloodshedder,
It’ll only get embarrassingly badder,
I’m constantly dropping the eyedropper,
Falling, tumbling, coming a cropper,
Existence has lost all of its allure…
I regularly get a mental flashover,
Cartilages, Shaking-Shirley’s-Shoulder,
Electric Shocking Sherida…
Sham’s Mini-Seizures,
Arthur Itis and Colin Cramps getting older!
Depressions are getting far deeper,
An easy target for any crook or fraudster,
Cooker taps left on, there’s no hot water,
Mercy, compassion, give me no quarter,
Staying extant is getting fraughter,
Monday morning, I felt my heart flutter,
Will it be going into failure?
Failure; at that, I’m the master!
In this world, I now feel like a squatter,
As I age, problems get thornier,
Concentration gets weaker,
My breathing echos like a Zither,
Life is a bore that I’ve managed to endure,
New ailments arrive that to cannot abore,
I ask the Lord; Is there to be any more?
I drop things as I get more ambisinister, Vocally, I’m becoming a babbler,
Fears, worries, increase my paranolia,
I forget what it was I was thinking over,
Some days, I feel inept, angrier, peakier,
Frustrated, depressed, or and weaker,
My outlook continually grows bleaker,
Now the computer won’t let me save a picture!
My mishmash of thoughts turns into a quagmire,
Do I need a psychological rejigger?
I need examinations done, ocular…
Audial, Diabetic & see the Doctor… The world has never been my oyster,
My logicality & common sense get meagrer,
Each unsolvable problem is a monster,
When I die, go to the next sphere,
I hope to God they don’t send me back here! – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
I woke at about 06:24,
Little Inchie was still sore.
Urine colour a number four,
WC is needed; that’s for sure…
On the Throne, liquid did pour…
A messier mess; upon the floor,
And my belly looked ampler!
Bother from Toothache Tiffany,
Cartilage pain in each knee,
Took a photo, & made the tea,
Spilt the milk, dearie me!
Minutes late back on the WC!
Hit my shoulder on the door frame – I gave it an apology!
Inadequate responses from my memory,
My perception was not at its keenest,
The computer was at its absurdest…
Whatever I tried, attempted or pressed,
The damned machine soon got me so depressed,
I didn’t know what to do for the best…
I repeatedly tried Norton and the Ccleaners,
Run them, close all down, restart… no go, oh, bejesus!
The analyser failed and worsened my ailments & derivatives,
Launching moments of non-stop depression,
Spent little time creating and more on correcting,
But mostly, I spent more time failing…
No point in photographing or graphicalising,
I spent ages preparing and hoping…
On creating this so far, pictureless blogging!
No confidence; I feel like a circumforanean…
I swear I’m cursed with and by a cacodemon!
Carer Christopher issued the morning medication,
I didn’t sulk, but it was a temptation,
Today’s confusion, indecision, & apprehension,
Indicated that insanity was a possible option!
Life’s a hotchpotch, thought, a motley collection,
Most of my ideas seem to have no connection…
I’m still up for socialising and adoption,
It’s from Doreen Dementia that I need protection!
Carers Chloe & Kara came calling,
Kara explained to Chloe my financialisationing,
So next week, Chloe can sort out the banking,
All done in ten minutes, amazing!
Of course, I’ll not be remembering!
I had another go at grapicalisationing,
Tried to save it for WordPressing,
But not all of the photographing,
Gawd’s truth, some went in!
Those above, I tried to save more, praying…
But CorelDraw started crashing!
I turned it all off, restarted it, again got it going,
But the bloody pictures were again not saving!
Two hours to again use Norton and Ccleaning!
I took two shots from the kitchen window,
The clouds were so beautiful and low, To the left and right, in auto,
Earlier ones I’d taken still would not go,
Into the file or WordPress, though!
I swore a bit in Fortissimo!
MEAL MADE Royal Anya potatoes & chicken,
Beetroot, tomatoes, not forgetting…
Yoghourt, a tasty curd, lemon!
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – My Eyes Are Getting Worse – Endless Mistakes! – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – Written (started) at 16:15hrs: A terrible night’s sleep again. The computer, bank, medical needs, the camera, TV & remote, a tumble later this morning, Mind-Mangling-Malcolm, Memory-Mashing-May, Glaucoma Gladys, Catheter Cathy’s Pain-giving Contraption, Loss-Balance-Belinda, Back-Pain-Brenda, Mini-Seizures, Earache Erasmus, and Toothache Tiffany are just too much to cope with. That’s not counting the computer problems with Word, Excel, CorelDraw & Trotsky Terence. As I was typing this, the browser started doing I don’t know what, but it took a good half-an-hour before I could use it again, then I had to turn everything off and back on again. which I’d done twice earlier, already having to use Ccleaner twice to get some photos to go… I’m fed up!
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
I woke for the umpteenth time, and I saw it was 06:00hrs. Just as the innards warbled at me, and that automatic butt-clenching you do when you know if you don’t get to the WC on time, you’re going to mess yourself! I had no doubt this was the case. I fumbled out of the bed, stubbing my toe, grabbed Four-Pronged Willy, the walking stick, and limped hastily to the wet room. EMBARRASSMENT – FRUSTRATION -SHAME! What followed was painful, embarrassing and not a pretty sight! I don’t need to tell you what happened, I’m sure.
I spent minutes nonstop swearing as I sat on the Porcelain Throne, clearing out what little of the evacuated produce was left inside me. Most of it was already down my legs and on the floor! Things actually got worse later! My anger and shame stopped me from crying!
A mammoth cleaning-up job was started. Me first, then the terribly sulk-making splashes on the furniture and floor were tackled. Using a mop and bucket while using a walking stick is not easy. I did, I thought, have the sense to take my time sorting it out. All clean again, I put the used kitchen towels (two big rolls) into a bag and put them in the large sharps box for disposal in the medical box. Back to the wetroom, and decided to get the ablutions done.
I did my tegggies—well, the few I’ve got left—and as I overreached to get the shaving tackle, I slipped on some disinfectant I’d put on the floor. I grabbed the trolley to keep from going down, brushing my head against the tackle on the top. I actually thought about going into a Smug Mode. I was so proud of myself for not ending up on the floor. I carried on with the shaving. Until I saw the blood coming down my face, I was sure I’d not cut myself with the razors? Down the side of the face, earhole, mouth, chin, and chest. Oh, dearie me!
The blood was coming from the top of my head, and then I realised it must have happened during the tumble.
I got the brute, liberally soaked some kitchen towels with it, and folded them on my head. That’ll stop it, I thought.
It just took a couple of minutes to finish the shaving, and the blood was down on my face and neck again. Well, I thought, this is unusual. The Brut always stops the flow of the shaving cuts. But not this time. I got some plasters and wadding I’d soaked with the Brut. Then I stuck it tightly on where I thought the wound was with the plasters. Then I did medicationings. Little Inchies fungal lesion ointmentating pain was on a par with my getting the Protection Pants on. The head was not too painful at all. Finally, the wet room was cleaned and sorted!
Got a fresh dressing gown and went into the front room to see how or if the computer would act. My vision was blurred by the blood flowing down again. I realised, by the location of the blood on my hands and the removed dressing, that I’d missed some of the actual wound putting it on. I didn’t realise it was over such a large area. I’ve never had a wound so Bruted before, Hahaha! I could not feel any blood coming through this time. I thought that I’d cracked the problem. I put a woolly bobcap on to keep the pressure on the cut, graze or whatever it was.
Carer P arrived. And when I told P of my farcicalnesses with the ablutioning (not the pooing myself), he looked at it and said it felt dry, and we could take off the dressing now. He asked me first if I’d like him to Peel it off or to Whip it off. I asked for a Whip it off, please!
It bled again, but far less than earlier. Pleasant put another dressing on it for me. Bless him. He rang his controller to ask if the next caller could be made aware and check it for me when they arrived. Nice of him, that!
Then memory problems… me and the computer.
I won’t bore you again with all the details, but I used Norton and Ccleaner thrice to upload some graphics and photos to WordPress. It took me hours, and then I had to upload the files straight away before I ran out of memory again. Harrumph!
Carer Kimberly came next. She had not been informed about my Accifauxpa by anyone. Fancy that! She kindly checked it for me. It was still bleeding, but barely at all now.
Kimberly put a new dressing in. I think I can take it off tonight. She took a photo of the head before it started bleeding again and put a plaster on it. I’ve been looked after today. I didn’t mention the poo-poo. Whoopsie.
Then I got some more snaps that it wouldn’t let me earlier in the day.
This is the early one I took before my Accifauxpas during the rain. This was when I refilled the nibble box on the Nurse’s and Carers’ table.
Some new ones in there that they just might like. I hope the nurses will if they come. A slightly later shot of the local houses, most of which I noticed today, was leaving via Mansfield Road in their cars. Can’t blame them after four people were shot from a vehicle on Winchester Street. Which is about 300 yards from the houses and the flats I live in. The one on the left is a mystery one. No idea why I took it at all. This is a later shot of the houses I took with the old Kodak camera. I also used it to take the saucepan above left. You can tell by the different-sized pictures. Cat Shot of the Week!
Sasha is from New Mexico. Tim Price has a family of cats, and they are all beautiful and characterful. Tim says I can use some photos and hopes to put a cat/s of the week photo on this blog weekly. Sasha has always seemed like a thinking cat; her expression is that of a thinker. I love all of them from a distance. Especially the cheese queue photos.
Carer Alu came and looked at the head. It’s getting better already. I am going to make a meal of sorts for myself: baked crispy (I hope) potatoes, tomatoes with basil, yellow peppers, and sea salt, vegetarian sausages, and some Milk Roll bread to soak up the juices. Slurp!
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – I hope to be back in the morning. I took this just before the total darkness fell. I wonder if these are part of the Northern Light colours? I must search Google later. I got the meal as planned, made it, and served it. It was terrible-tasting.
I suspect I may have used the wrong seasonings in the tomatoes and sauce. I couldn’t taste any basil at all, but there was another tang to it that I couldn’t recognise and wasn’t too keen on. Tsk! Whatever it was, it ensured one of the messiest-ever dumps in the morning. And a multi-coloured evacuation, from black to beige in varying colours. With mighty super-sticky splashes to clean up, too! I washed the dishes and took another shot from the kitchen window, this time of a different but gorgeous view. Seconds later, the whole sky went dark.
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – Note my mistake in this? Humph! – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – 04:00hrs: I rose from the depths of the bed and discovered I was being accompanied by a wind orchestra. The instruments playing the tunes were Reflux Rogers, a belching section, Rumpy-Rumpo from the rear end, and rasping-gasping accompaniment from the breathing department. I don’t know why, but this lasted over an hour. It’s a darned good job that I live on my own! The rear wind sounded bubbling as I got up – and hastily hobbled to the wet room to utilise the . The resulting evacuation was surprising for two reasons. One that, despite its exiting as dark green lumps, had no pain, and it disintegrated immediately after hitting the water. A quick counterattack from . No wonder I have so few readers. Hahaha! My were tackled next. Being so early in the day, I dare not use the noisy shower for fear of waking the neighbours. I started with doing the teggies; what few I have left is becoming a delicate job. As I prepped the shaving tackle and collated it to allow me to shave without my spectacles, I decided to stop saving the top lip because I’ve always been cutting that area since I shaved off the tache. I’ll let it grow again; I bet it’ll be white this time. Of course, being me, my mind wandered onto another subject; ‘Will the computer work this morning’ arose in my mind. I was yanked from my thoughts as I cut above my top lip in three places with one stroke of the razor… Yes, I’d automatically started shaving around the mouth! It’s too late to worry. I’ll stop shaving it tomorrow, then.Hehe! I was particularly harassed with myself because I only wanted to turn on the computer and check out CorelDraw, MW Word, and Excel. A good body scrub was enjoyed all the same. Then, I freshened up with aftershave to stop the bleeding and Brut Man Spray! Then, the medicationings. They went as usual, applying the betamethasone cream to Little Inchies Fungal Lesion. Whor, & Argh! I Phorpain Gelled both of the cartilages, Carole and Chloe. Arthur Itis was as good as gold this morning, and I didn’t medicate him. I did the bulging bouncy under the stomach flab area, forehead, underarms, and where I could reach to do it, on the ankles, and I put on the Acne and Ezxcema areas. Then I Germolened the new patch of pimples and spots on the outside of the right arm. Then, the pleasantest medication task was Germoloiding Harold’s Haemorrhoids. Then I faced the task of getting the fresh PPs on. Which can be a bit tricky, depending on how bad or good the Cartilage girls, leg ulcers, and Arthur Itis are on the day. Today, the only harrowing one was Cartilage Chloe… Getting my left leg lined up, the picker-upper in hand slid my rear-end into the corner so there was less chance of a tumble if I lost my balance; I was all readied. Getting the leg high enough to fit in the pants took about five tries. Getting the washed-day catheter pouch on was also relatively easy today. Much more of this, and I’ll be in danger of getting close to being contented—worrying that is, I’m not used to it. But, of course, I have yet to see how the computer goes, haven’t I? That’s another worry. But overall, the session went much better than usual. And this performance is needed every day! Worra life! No wonder I’m depressed!
I titivated the kitchen surfaces that I could reach. I didn’t do anything silly or exerting, like move things about to clean any hidden areas. I blamed the computer and my wanting to get on it for this, Hehehe!
Then Carer, erm… damn it, forgot her name. Anyway, she remembered to put my socks on for me.
ON THE COMPUTER
A mixed bag of a performance today.
Things let me get some photos on the blog, but it refused to save others like it did two days ago. Potluck! But when I put the first ones on, did the top graphics load and save them all? I didn’t go into any Smug Modes, not with this computer. This earlier shot was belatedly permitted to go on after refusing me on the first try?
Excel and Word opened, and I got the Health Checks on. Later, I went to the balcony and took this shot to the left, catching the other balconies as I snapped it. Next, I took a Kodak shot—a close-up of the nearby dwellings, catching the suspected loft drug houses.
Great balls of fire… look at the time already! What happened to the day… I seem to have blinked and lost four hours at the same time. Unreal! Ah, it was probably sneaking in again. Or, I suppose I could have drifted off while waiting for CorelDraw to save a graphic. It has been so slow today. It’s not that I want to push my luck; at least she has not crashed yet. She’s still cocking up the font manipulation, though.
It’s too late to start my meal because the carer may call anytime from now until 06:30 hrs—no, no, I mean 18:30 hrs. It depends on who it is, I think. Some have to come from other sites, so it’s understandable. I wish life was! I’ll wait until they have been, then get it cooked.
I hobbled out onto the balcony to take this shot of not the mudslide but the mud trickle. Hehe!
I’ll go on the WP Reader now.
Some great blogs and odes on today.
Hello… back to the Porcelain Throne I go. Not a Sausage! But I did have a lamb meal later: Shepherd’s pie with spuds and a Lamb hotpot. I cooked them together in the oven and added extra peas after tipping them in the large bowl. Afterwards, I had a lemon dessert. Lovely it was, too.
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – I do feel a fool! – –
I took these two photographs of the falling rain sometime last night or, more likely, earlier this morning. I can’t recall taking them, though. I found them on the SD card when I loaded the food photo but missed putting them on yesterday’s blog. Obviously, they were snapped from the balcony through the glass windows. Yes, it was raining again in Sherwood. But we needed it.
After staying in one position for so long overnight, as I stood up to remove the catheter night bag, Cartilage Chloe pained me like never before! She gave way, and I collapsed to the floor. No harm done; I grabbed the back of the recliner on my way down, and my knees barely touched the floor. Unfortunately, I twisted the torso and kicked off. She’s still hurting now, but mainly only when I get up to walk. Well, it’s more like a delicate walking-stick-aided hobble. Hehe!
I meandered into the balcony, to take to take a view of the end car park mudslide. An oddly blue tinge to this one, a little like Saturday morning?
Another poor-quality, shaky photograph of the front car park on Chestnut Way in front of the Woodthorpe Court flats was taken.
For the first time in months, my evacuation was in the same mode as the morning dump the day before. But this one was even bigger and more painful than Monday’s job. After three flushes, the end of the gigantic torpedo was still sticking out of the water! I had to get a bamboo stick and break up the submarine in the water to get it to the sewer! An application of Germoloid ointment eased things.
My . The Acne & Eczema cream was applied. A blob of Germolene dabbed on the, s papules and both knees. I left the most painful one until last. The Dakacorting of poor Little Inchie Fungal Lesion. Next, I olive-oiled the ears. Then, spray the tooth pain-easier on the teeth. Then I got the Blepha Gel and were applied, I used the last of this, I must get more. Then, the Acne and Eczema cream was used. It’s a busy business with all this medicationalisationing! Hehe!
Then, I tackled getting a shave. One mishap, I dropped the can of shaving foam, and it landed right on my ingrowing toenail on the right foot! Just four little nicks shaving.
The next four hours were spent in a seizure, haze, or I’d fallen asleep, or some combination, patches of memory, but these can’t be validated as correct. Carers are unidentified; the last two calls were done by Carer Israel. I can recall Israel taking off the diabetic socks. That’s all.
The meal was sorted out very late… in the A.M. I’d scribbled a rating on the notepad, but I can’t recall doing it. So it must have been a feast to give it 9.3?
