Deep Emphatic Coronavirus Thoughts
Created by Nottingham Pensioner, Inchcock, while doing his ablutions
Apologies from Inchcock’s Carer for allowing this rubbish to be published!
Created by Nottingham Pensioner, Inchcock, while doing his ablutions
Apologies from Inchcock’s Carer for allowing this rubbish to be published!
On the computer, picking at my cold sore,
I drew the curtains, above is what I saw,
For beauty, one couldn’t ask for more,
I was gobsmacked, as I looked in awe!
Life wasn’t so complicated or obscure,
There was hope yet, I was sure,
I forgot all about my credit score!
My zoochosis meant nothing, against this delight,
Magnificent colours and bending light,
Some pale, transparent, others being superbright,
I took in the gorgeousness, as well I might,
I forgot the hassle of Monday and yesternight.
I wanted to steal this inspiration, get the copyright!
How did the phenomenon occur, I lacked the insight,
It even beats the heavenly blue moonlight,
A plane flew by, lucky devils on that flight!
Not that I don’t love the days twilight,
What an incomparable, wonderful sight,
It’s even more desirable than toasted Marmite!
Rainbow, that’s an excellent euonym,
My self-control wandered, I felt grim,
Mind facts were substituted with skrim,
Dizzy Dennis was afoot, a thought-storm brewed!
For moments the brain froze, and logic stewed,
My head cleared, after a prayer and a hymn.
I no longer drink, or use tobacco,
Don’t play any instrument, no piano,
I do overeat and love a fresh tomato,
Eventually, semi logic I did re-bestow,
Thus ended this thought-storm fiasco!
No peace, no rest, from the unbalanced mind,
Sometimes from life’s hassle, I wish I could resign,
Oh, to find an existence that is gentle and kind,
Peacefulness, tranquillity, are so hard to find,
Even around here, with its lanes, tree-lined,
Why is life, so complicatedly designed?
Have I any right, to moan and whine?
The body and brain are both on the decline,
Red Dwarf’s on the box later, so never mind!
I arrived on Parliament Street, greeted by the smiling populace,
A cheery smile on every face,
Oh, how I love the place,
Mind you, I had my can of Mace!
I called in the Poundland shop,
Shoplifters were arguing, having a strop,
I didn’t want to eavesdrop,
So I didn’t stop!
I notice pedestrians crossing the road against the red lights,
But all was eerily quiet, no fights,
I bloke chucked out of Burger King, what a sight!
Another chap was as high-as-a-kite!
Then two gals started a cat-fight,
I ran away, and well, I might!
Clumber Street, I rested, the knees were stinging and tight,
Along came two men, one on crutches, the other on a bike,
I told the biker, it wasn’t right,
Driving so close to me on a bike,
He told me to take-a-hike!
Why do folks do this, I wonder why?
Two imitation policemen stood nearby,
They said and did nowt,
Cause they have no clout,
I moved on and gave a sigh!
Long Row, above the Yorkshire bank,
1833, bet these were built with pride and swank,
But such architecture goes unnoticed, to be frank,
By youngsters, with acne and a look that is blank,
To them, workmanship & beauty is not worth a Franc!
Long Row businesses, failing so so much now,
This shop used to be Burtons food store,
Where you could buy pork, bread or a cow,
I miss it more and more,
I can still smell the meat, somehow,
Though we couldn’t afford it, we were poor!
Ah, another pavement cyclist, for short, PC, I’ll call them,
One hand on his handlebar, texting on his phone in his hand,
He even spat out some horrible phlegm!
Some say they should be banned,
But not by the Greens or Lib-Dem!
A gathering of Nottinghamians resting,
Unemployed, students, and shoplifters?
The bored, the drunks, and Brexit debaters?
Look at their faces, it’s interesting,
They all glare at me, as if they hate us!
City Centre, Long Row, and, the Slab Square,
Architecture by Fothergill Watson, who was the absolute best!
The man was a genius, with skill and flair!
Better than all the rest,
And, I’m only being fair!
Queen Street, I nearly got hit by yet another PC,
Delivering food, perhaps pizza, burgers, or a fricassee?
Maybe once again, one will run into me?
But I carry my taser, just in case you see!
This rubbish was wrote during an evil spell of the dizzies and shakes,
By Inchcock, while he ate his supper, of cheesy cakes.
I fank you!
I went in the QMC for a Hernia operation,
Summat else came to the surgeons attention,
He said he’s found cancer in the bladder,
But not to worry, he said as we had a natter,
He’d lasered both problems with antimatter!
But I suffered later, Harry returned, it’s mind over matter!
The problem was soon outright,
Although it was a bit of a fight,
The surgeons said it’d be risky and tight,
But things should come out alright,
But couldn’t stop the bleeding, that was a fright!
They did stop it finally, to my delight!
I have to say, this left me feeling sore,
But surely it will mean, Haemorrhoid cream no more?
No suppositories, prodding, probing, Cor!
But they returned, worse than before!
A bit of a shock, when I saw the Doc,
She said you’re a chip off the old block,
Your Dad had such an op, a bit of a shock,
Makes a change from operating on your buttock,
But you’ll pull through me old cock!
Twitching eyes, jump and jerk,
But when steady, they still work,
Though not a regular querk,
It can drive you berserk!
Diagnosed two weeks before the stroke,
By Dr Rahannmuta, a wonderful bloke,
Not averse to a laugh and joke,
Although I don’t, he said you must not smoke!
And gave me a year, before the nerve-ends die, get broke.
Worra shock, I was in a terrible mess,
Couldn’t wash, shave or even dress,
Two months hospitalisation, no less,
Why I ask, but it remains answerless,
The After-Stroke Physio leaves me breathless,
But certainly not painless!
There are periods when I feel brainless,
But some helpers have been invaluable, God Bless!
Caught this in the Stroke hospital ward, one can’t forget,
Blood-papsules, weals, scars, lumps, bulges, a guaranteed bet,
Welts, contusions, blemishes, dapples, maculations, invariably on the legs set,
Thrombophlebitis and assorted Clopidogrel grooves and ridges show,
The legs appearance change every day, a new vein or burrow,
A reaction to a changed medication, they say to me,
Vasculitis and venous thromboembolism or VTE,
What next, can I charge folks to look, Hehehe!
Right-hand side sensory nerves are almost kaput,
The neurotransmitters, nearly as dead as a mutt,
I’m even getting boils and growths on my butt!
Myasthenia Gravis (MG) – The latest ailment.
This was written, to cheer missen up, and it did!
In bad, nae, terrible rhyme!
It’s the day of the criminal, there is no more law,
Empathy, understanding have become just folklore,
I don’t see Police officers in Nottingham, anymore,
Pavement Cyclists, beggars and shoplifters galore,
Street sleepers, who survive with skills of a detrivore,
Druggies, alcoholics, muggers, both old and mature,
While families dine, smoke cigars and drink their liquor,
All the time, making the poor, feel even sicker!
Disabled with Fit for Work Assessments, have to fight and bicker,
A blind chap got told he can work on a cherry-picker!
Jobseekers told to do psychometric tests, Glory Be!
But if you’re lucky, you’ll live to retire just like me,
But it isn’t what you thought, no rest and freedom, see,
Heart attack, Duodenal Ulcer, and I live on the twelfth-floor,
Peripheral Neuralgia, then a stroke and Arthritis, core!
What next I thought, and the lock broke on the door,
It was mended within three weeks, no need to be sore,
My hot water system went down, so I called help once more,
After nine days of being lied to, ‘We are coming today for sure,
Staying in and awake eight-until-ten, no chance of a bedsore!
But they mended it! It leaked, my clothes wet, the water did pour!
I slipped on the liquid, ending up injured on the floor,
Luckily, the stroke nurse called, so help came to the fore,
Depression and self-hating I began to explore,
I complained at the lack of help, this just caused a furore!
Now the haemorrhoids have returned, bloody and sore!
I fank You!
Finnish: Maanantai 1 Heinäkuuta 2019
05:00hrs. I sort of sprang awake this morning, originally somewhat antipathetic at the idea of getting out of the £300. c1968, gungy-beige, rickety recliner. I soon realised that a few surprises were in store for me! Firstly, I saw how light and what the time was. Worked out that I’d just had seven hours kip. A rarity nowadays! Recognised the signs from the innards that I needed a wee-wee and to use the Porcelain Throne.
I rose gingerly, but no longer reluctantly from the quaintly antiquated recliner, got the stick and utilised the hardly used EGPWWB (Emergency Grey Plastic Wee-Wee bucket). The RWPSWW (Reluctant-Weak-Painful-Spraying-Wee-Wee) that followed took some stopping of the flow, well, trickle!
Then off to the wet room, and settled on the Porcelain Throne. The evacuation was about as painful as the wee-wee, was, but less so, than of late. Some bleeding took place.
The black spots or papsules under the left little toenail were increasing in size?
The brain slowly began to operate in an imitation, semi-logical mode. (You’ll find this belated thought process activity as you get older, so be prepared, folks!)
Some new bruises had appeared. One on the left arm and one on the lower right arm. Trying to recall what caused them, defeated me. It’s unfathomable; No tumbles or fall had, no bags or knocks as far as I know or can remember.
I rinsed the hand washing and hung it to dry.
When I got the medications out, it dawned on me, how few there are to take nowadays.
I’m slowly getting used to this but still have the feeling occasionally, that something is missing. Hehe! I did take another Senna, to soften things up a bit, and try to avoid the bleeding from the rear end evacuations.
The sun seemed reluctant to put in an appearance this morning. But it did later on in the day/.
The INR nurse, the beautiful Polish gal, is calling today between 09:00 > 11:00hrs to take my blood sample. A sweet-natured helpful gal. I must remember to give her the Brunswick ham I got for her from Aldi yesterday, and the lemon wafers, to thank her for the assistance she has given me.
I got the computer on and made a start on this blog. Then began to update the Sunday Diary. I must remember to stop at 07:30hrs, to get the ablutions done and ready things for the nurses visit. I remembered too! Shame cause the hands etc. were being very good to me, and I had to stop typing. Oy Vey!
The ablutions went very well this morning. I took my time and was careful. All I got was a little cut shaving. No bleeding from Litte Inchy, the teeth/gums or Haemorrhoid Harold. A slightly puffed-up ‘Vainglory-Mode’ Adopted
Some more papsules, or whatever they are, had come up on the leg and feet. Another Flat 72 Mystery! Haha!
Oh, and yet another mystery, not so rare by any means, but I can only find one of the pair of long Balsa Socks. No, I got that wrong as well, Bamboo Socks! So I donned the shorter pair that I’d bought from Amazon.
Another Porcelain Throne evacuation was needed after I had just got dressed and was walking out of the wet room. Tsk! Back in the shower room again, and found that the Senna was still not being very productive! Humph! Still, the stink left behind was not as putrid as it has been. Haha!
I made a brew of tea and got back on updating this post. And the damned peripheral neuropathy inspired shaking and dancing began in earnest! The shoulder seemed much more affected than usual, the others, fingers, hands, legs and feet were in the normal: Knock-And-Annoy-Inchcock-Mode! The ‘Vainglory-Mode’ of earlier, changed to a sort of ‘Soddit-I’m-pissed-off-Mode! Hehe!
09:25hrs: While waiting for the nurse to arrive, I went on to update the TFZer Facebook photos.
The lady arrived, and we mad a quick chinwag as she took the blood for me. I saw her off and carried on with the TFZing for an hour or two. A long job catching up, but the fingers were easing off.
I should have got some graphics tops done, but the energy faded quickly for some reason. I don’t understand why, after all, I’d got up late for me, and had a decent sleep last night for a change?
I checked that I had put the Stroke appointment on the Google Calendar. I’ve to go to:
C-SKR2C Stroke Medicine, and see Dr S K Ragunathan, Outpatient Department, North Corridor. N5. Nottingham City Hospital. On Tuesday, 20th August 2019 at 11:15hrs. They need me to take with me: This letter. All glasses (Spectacles), and hearing aids. A list of all medications and dosages. And an up to date Mobile phone number. And, gave me an email address I must visit: WWW.nuh.nhs.uk/8-steps-to-safety/ Well, I had a look at it. And I got this:
Ah-well! It’s not unusual, as Tom Jones sang.
I set about getting some fodder sorted. A haddock in batter then added the fish cakes fifteen-minutes later, and another quarter an hour after I put in the sourdough baguette. Hope it turns out alright. I’m fading fast here, so tired and weary. Also puzzled as to why?
Getting the tray and meal served up, I was pleased with how it looked and took a photographicalisation of it.
Picking up the tray to put on the server-trolley, I managed to drop a fish finger and a fish cake, along with the cutlery, when the shakes came on. Saving a lot of it from falling as I caught the tray, I got food all over myself and the floor in the process. Some of it was hot! Tsk! It had got coldish by the time I dished the dropped fodder, and cleaned things and myself up and was ready to eat the meal. A disappointment, I’m sure it would have been close to a record Flavour Rating if it had still hot when I consumed it.
Still, it saved me eating so much. Giggle! A rating of 7.4/10 was given for it. I think I missed a treat here; damned peripheral neurosis! No, I meant neuropathy. Although looking up neurosis in the morning: (abnormality, hang-up, mental derangement, mental instability), I might have been right in the first place! Hehehe!
I started to watch some TV and was amazed when I lasted over an hour before nodding off. As I woke up, I was not sure if the door chimes had woken me up, that would be something. Or if I had just woken up while the chimes were ringing. Getting up I stubbed the little toe on the left foot, got the stick and hobble to open the door.
Realising too late, that I only had on a pair of socks! It was Josie, bless her.
She can’t grasp the idea of my going to bed early, and getting up early routine, yet. (As indeed, I can’t get used to Josies staying up late and sleeping in late either!) I hid behind the door and opened it just a few inches. Bless her, she had bought some potatoes and a pack of tomatoes for me. I red-facedly thanked her, profusley. Oh dearie me!
As I got back, I got the socks off and dived into the old recliner, but no sleep came. The humiliation of my opening the door almost in the raw bothered me. Then I noticed the legs had gone all warped and looked like they do sometimes when Arthur Itis or Colin Cramps are rampant. But, neither were giving me any bother at the time?
I found this photo on the card in the morning. And it was a mystery to me. What is was of though? Well, the arm, yes. I don’t think I intended to take this one! After a little studying of the picture, I think the left side is the leg, and right the arm?
If nothing else, the Axonotmesis, and Wee-weeing are giving me some variety in life! Haha! For the next wee-wee was of a far different mode again. It was an SSPWW (Short-Sharp-Painful-Wee-wee).
The sweet Morphius inspired sleep still refused to come. Another disturbed sleep and lack of ability to nod-off! I tried the TV, but the brain doggedly resisted sleeping, as it usually would have done? So, I got the book to read. But again, no drooping eyelids, despite my feeling so drained. Peeing me-off this was! I had a go at the crossword book, but a total lack of concentration soon made me give that up. Now getting ridiculously late, I went back to viewing the TV… at last, I drifted off into blessed, heaven-sent sleep! No idea what time it was, but it was well into the morning… However, I managed three hours restful slumber, before waking in urgent need for the Porcelain Throne! Humph!
Willmott Dixon started to upgrade my minuscule flat,
New windows were installed, that started the waring combat,
EIBWBBBs (Evil Ironclad Boll-Weevil black biting beetles) and a bat,
All came in and immigrated, hibernated, and that was that!
T’was eighteen months ago; and a long time is that,
They ate the food, and I was often bitten at!
It cost me hundreds of pounds,
Bug killers and traps did abound,
My coughing was the loudest sound,
But the poisoning of my lungs was allowed,
No help came, although I protested very loud,
I got the blame, NCH responsibility they disavowed!
I found the battle, very fascinating,
But no signs for months of their abating,
They found my apartment very accommodating,
And with the little Weevils, I started acquainting,
Although mixed in with some aberrating,
At least their bites had no sting!
Spraying Rentokill three times a day became a realisation,
Their cunning skills at survival caught my appreciation,
The Rentokil put me more than them, into aestheticisation,
The numbers grew rapidly of their aggrupation,
If I was ever to win this war, this losing altercation,
I needed more help, stronger ammunition!
My health suffered from this losing situation,
My battle plans were in need of analysation,
I planned to use bleach, and soda as acidification,
But they just swam in it, I was losing with ambiguation.
Of victory, I had no hopes nor anticipation, furthermore…
The effects of the spray left me with a cough and snore!
My further pleas for help, others did ignore,
Until another flat got the Weevils, they got help from me for sure!
Slowly the Weevil numbers faded, not so many anymore…
But occasionally, they’d return, these nasty, Weevil detrivore,
Last week, they came onto the keyboard while I used CorelDraw!
But yesterday was the first day when I saw them no more!
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
Oh, sod-it! I just went to make a mug of tea and spotted this. Tsk!
Unfortunately, old Inchcock had one of his self-pitying moods this morning.
When he found he had new boils, acne and the Furosimide induced Wee-Wees were mega-active, with the tsnunami-like splashbacks being unavoidable!
Then he checked his fluid-filled containers he calls legs…
Ah, that’s new boils on his back, bum and now new growths on his knees, as well as some more blood papsules showing on the pins!
These could be just a few reasons for his sad Thoughts Ode today? Hehehe!
Created spontaniously from the mind of Nottingham City Homes Pensioner; in a moment of insanity and a blood of Furosemide induced Wee-weeing!
I woke up this Christmas Day Morning:
To find that the only parts of my horrendously Billy Bunter like body, that didn’t Ache or Hurt, there the left index finger and the right side of my right elbow!
I found myself singing, Johnny Kidd & The Pirates song, as Aching All Over in place of their, Shaking all over. The idea came to get some humour out of feeling so poorly, and I set about making this graphic, putting my version of the song in the yellow letters.
Christmas morning, and all I could do was create this bit of fun.
Hope you have a laugh, and a jolly good holiday!
(Evil Ironclad Boll-Weevil black biting beetles)
Having got acquainted with my beloved EIBWBBBs, who arrived when the new windows were being fitted in the apartment, I think I would miss them now if they were to move on to another flat. We’ve had many happy times together:
Oh, how they loved the new Spare Room Window, with its holes in the filler and plaster and the cracks to hide and play in!
Of course, the new balcony being built brought them out in their hundreds, only to be slaughtered as their Guardian, Inchcock, spent hundreds of pounds of the last eight months of their sojourn in flat 72!
Above and below, the EIBWBBBs favourite hideout, the Wet Room. With its holes in the wall where could escape into the kitchen to the walk-in cupboard, climb in the wash basin for a swim, on the curtains so they could play at dive-bombing Inchcock when he has a shower… best of all, they had the escape route down the drain on the floor!
When the balcony door was installed, they had a wonderful time coming in through the cracks in the plaster and holes in the sealant.
The Kitchen was popular with the little mites.
Not Classified but interesting!
Before arriving here, as inmate 72 at Woodthorpe Court, I’d never seen a Weevil before in real life.
I have now!