– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – Cutting up potatoes, I found a wriggler…
A maggot, but used wriggler; it sounded funnier,
Just two cuts, to the same finger…
Using on each a waterproof plaster,
While the sauce got burnt to a cinder,
To give the potatoes a bit more flavour,
I added tandoori, lemon & coriander,
And the recommended garam masala,
Stood-up, how I didn’t fall’s a puzzler…
I went into a dissociative seizure,
Compared to the norm, this was longer,
Spuds were rock hard, my language vulgar,
Got potato waffles from the refrigerator,
I picked up long picker-upper, Peter,
To retrieve the spoon dropped earlier,
Knocking over a bottle of malted vinegar,
After mopping it up, the floor was cleaner,
Finally, I was ready to serve up dinner,
My waffles, burnt and withered,
Everything on the tray was assembled,
Carefully, into the front I hobbled… My ingrowing toenail was stubbed!
Spilt food, carpet to be scrubbed,
Meal binned, pots washed…
So, my food plans were altered,
To bags of crisps, ready-salted…
Salt & vinegar, and barbequed,
New Year views to be photo’d,
Things didn’t go as anticipated!
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – Afternoon Delight.
A little later…
Sunset, Gorgeous! Zoomed in a bit… And another… Then right out.
The third attempt produced this
edible meal. At last! Hehe!
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – I think this may be impossible,
Even, mayhap, unbelievable…
I was sleeping, all peaceably,
A dream began, and sillily… Although seemingly unlikely…
I knew I was having a seizure, really!
As I flew in the sky, inconceivable, A pterodactylus sent by the Devil, Attacked me, I was in trouble… Then an eagle too, what a kerfuffle, I’d lost an arm and a leg, pitiful! I yodelled for help, desperately, That was when the nurse woke me. I took your photo, she said laugingly, Pointing out that I looked pale & ghostly! The after-seizure reflux rose, all acidity, But I have two arms and legs, thankfully,
Hydrocephalus, or Peripheral Neuropathy? Doreen Dementia, or plain insanity?
Was it neurological? Or nonsensical? Maybe psychosis, anxiety or neurosal? What caused this wasn’t perceptible, That dream was certainly original, Was it symbolic, or metaphorical? The nurse indeed found it comical! – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
I hope to do a better job of tomorrow’s blog. – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
I’m worried about the Grim Reaper,
Not visited in August, now it’s September!
Has something changed his agender?
Last we met, he spoke of a nymph named Rusalka,
A female creature who seeks souls not after…
death, but before, & ferry them to Purgatory,
Each is an illegal immigrant soul-gatherer,
They come in dreams, offering virgins for a fiver,
The Virgin Goddess of the Hunt, Dziewona,
I’ve missed my designated soul-collector,
He was straight-talking, no verbal garniture,
For my last day, he promised me fresh golonkowa…
With sourdough bread & pickled cucumber,
I thought a moment ago that I could smell vinegar,
He said he’d get me in a cell with souls of kvetchers,
He guaranteed to keep me safe from Herr Starmer,
And his lies, bullying and moratoria…
I couldn’t have asked for better…
Me, a mentally-challenged failed rhymester,
When I die, decease, perish, & meet St Peter,
I leave this mortal coil, led by my Grim Reaper,
He will try to become my permanent Carer,
It’s love, I think, though it sounds macabre,
Gawd, I hope he wasn’t a leg-puller! – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
She was still shaking when I stirred at 06:15 hours. (Another late one). That might teach me not to shoulder-charge the wetroom door frame… at least, not so often. I had to laugh at myself when I reached down to retrieve the nocturnal catheter bag for emptying – it showed I was still on edge from yesterday’s mishaps. I used my left hand to hold the shoulder in case she had loosened the joint with her overnight rattling and shudderings. Haha! Now, a laugh upon waking may be a sign that things will go better today. Mind you, look what happened to Hitler when he attacked Russia.
Very few photos and news on the blog today. I must try to at least complete yesterday’s blog. If I have the time, I need to complete the 30 templates for September. I know, not a cat-in-hells chance. But I must at least try. Oh, no, just remembered I can use Jetpack, like I did last month. I did it in half the usual time. Now, if only I could remember how I did it. Never mind, there are still unknown challenges to come. Do I sound a smidgeon pessimistic? First kitchenette shot
Evacuation Conrad Constipation Controlled.
Carer Nimra. Body Check. Some new blood-filled swelling was spotted. They were not painful, but Nimta called the Community Nurses. They will send someone to inspect the area. Later decided Monday, not today. This will be no problem.
Amazingly, I completed the templates in record time, despite dealing with numbers.
Morning snap
Seizures are getting frequent. I spent ages in repeated recovery times, doing nothing.
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – <<<<<<<>>>>>>>> Humankind leaves a lot of residue, I’m not referring to their phoo, Warmongers, murderers we can’t subdue, The end of the world is well, overdo, Remembering Twiggy, in knickers, see-through? My mind and body can often go skew, As can life, but what can we do? Whatever happened to the segue? Honest politicians? Gone, but whereunto?
Why the shortage of the drumbledrane? Why do they free killers again and again, Why does the NHS not use enflurane? I waffle on, am I, or not inurbane? Tablets issued for physical pain… Codeine, Morphine and lidocaine, Neuropathy and mental problems remain… Making one live in the transmundane, If it’s not a new pustule, boil, or blain…
No doubt about it, I’m an apologist, Can’t remember, so I assumedly, Did I say or do it? Memory, no access, I stumble verbally, so awkwardly, The seizures know no boundaries, No wonder I act bizarrerie, Still have glaucoma and blepharitis, With whom do I argue and have a barney? Mostly twixt my own brain and me! I’m not the cleverest or blessedest, Christened as a Primitive Methodist, I have to go; I sense an incoming banshee! – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – In and out again today. No notes to use. I wrote the new Carer’s name and the Porcelain Throne performance and took photos of the food delivery. Gawd, I live an exciting life. I think I was out of it, more than with it today. Although fair does, around 17:00hrs, I got some visits from , and at last and then finally gave me a rest. Anne returned later on. I think I’ve taken too many painkillers today. But I was in more pain than for ages. Gawd, I live an exciting life. – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – . I woke up at about 0410 a.m. I changed the calendar clock and then turned on the kettle.
Took a morning view shot.
Then, I felt the innards rumbling. Hello, I thought this was going to be different. Convinced that Constipation-Conrad was preventing the wind from escaping. I poddled to the wet room. And a good job I did, too! Ruled the proceedings. The stinking, gooey evacuation was worse than ever today. Eurgh! Cleaning up took longer than passing the motion. I had a good wash and returned to the kitchen to make the brew of Glengettie. However, my attention strayed as I heard the sounds of fire engine klaxons. This is possibly one of the most extreme photos I’ve ever taken. So, different… Yes, I got something wrong there, methinks!
I forgot about making the tea and started finishing yesterday’s blog. I was trying to get it done before the food delivery arrived. I was still doing it two hours later when the delivery arrived I spent a while sorting the fodder out. Blimey, how many carrier bags were here?. I soon realised why. I’d ordered two weeks’ worth of spring water bottles (eight x 2-litre) and some crisps while they were on offer. (4 packs of five bags)
Nurses & Carers treats. Bit of fresh kinds of stuff. Naturally, Kung Po sauces. Fridge Freezer
CorelDraw was used for an hour or three. I was making up blog date graphics. The new version will not let me save anything, so I’m on the last year. They usually use blackouts when a new one comes out to force us to buy the new one, and this happens every year.
Balnks for hours. Total mystery what was going on.
Regretfully, as I thought I was returning to faux awareness as Carer Farone was here, I started the meal. I went back to the computer to find that CorelDraw had frozen. I had to turn it off by turning off the electricity. It took me ages to do it, and CorelDraw saved some of the changes, not others. I assumed I did them after the last save I made. Of course, with all this, I had to smell the burning meat in the oven to remember it was cooking in the oven. I had a few mini roast potatoes, so I popped some in the oven, which was already hot! Please don’t think I was swearing, spitting, cursing, feeling sorry for myself, depressed, annoyed, self-loathing, sick of bothering, or frustrated.
Then Carer Ejaz arrived. I could not find the oven glove to turn the pots over, and he had little time to issue the medications for me. He had a mock look for the mysteriously missing oven glove. After the lad had gone, I had another every-room search for the missing glove of mystery.
Forgetting again about the food in the oven! The potatoes joined the beef slices in the waste bin! Please don’t think I was swearing, spitting, cursing, feeling sorry for myself, depressed, annoyed, self-loathing, sick of bothering, or frustrated.
I had a bag of crisps and some nuts, followed by an iced sucker… I broke another tooth, ¾ of it! Seven missing teeth now, and just to add to the misery, & my gums were bleeding! – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – Please don’t think I was swearing, spitting, cursing, feeling sorry for myself, depressed, annoyed, self-loathing, sick of bothering, or frustrated. Mind you, I was! – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – Why didn’t I get the nickname of ‘Lucky’? – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – SMUG-MODE ENGAGED
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – Thinking! Thinking back, I began to hallucinate, Here, giving me a cuddle, was Auntie Kate, I guess I beginning, starting to levitate… Floating back in time, young again, lanate, Grizelda began to maxilate… Fondle, hugging me, & to mussitate, We did things considered misappropriate, Guilt? I no longer felt, nor was I novitiate, Freedom, my thoughts no longer obdurate, Physical ailments began to obfuscate, Gawd, this illusion is super-great! Am I dead? A ghost, or maybe a wraith?
Am I being given a forecast or a prophecy? Am I dead or alive? I viewed this whimsically, May I be en route to see St. Peter? I’ve paid my debts! Rent or electricity, Why do I sense that I’m feeling guilty? Is this a dream, a seizure or a Whoopsie? Griselda is still toying pleasurably with me, I no longer feel elderly, tired or weary! Under my bed is now a guzzunder, I’ve not seen one of these since 1953, What year is it? I don’t feel at all distressingly? The sky and globe have turned all yellowy… Opaque, angels, pink clouds, worryingly… St. Peter has not yet greeted me!
Am I getting sillier? I feel more cheerier! Is this an end-of-life bamboozler? Wherever I am, it feels cosier, I suppose it should, being free of Starmer? Yes, I must have died; I’ve never been happier, Oh, here’s a transparent cheerleader… Glittering eyes, big bust, much curvature, Ah, she’s just been attacked by Grizelda, Maybe because she gave me a sly twire? Heaven or Hell, I feel much toeier… No bother from Gladys Glaucoma, Arthur Itis, Shaking Shoulder or Anne Gyna, Grizelda’s back, with handcuffs and a tether… Prompting movement in the tallywhacker!
Well, I’m interested and acquiescing, A billion-long queue of souls is forming, Grizelda & me at the end, that’s galling, It’s for St. Peter’s gate, I’m assuming, For questioning and allocating… Heaven or Hell’s door selecting? Grizzly said, there’s a third door we might be using! I asked for what? This is so confusing, That’s for souls picked to be returning… The answer was more than terrifying, Sent back to earth, that’ll be intimidating! For those chosen, Starmer will be waiting, Still be cheating, lying, stealing & killing… I suddenly came out of my daydreaming, Starmer is still in power; it’s heartbreaking! – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – This morning, I kept waking up at 04:00hrs. Repeated this action endless times before nodding off again into a deep sleep. I was woken up at about 07:30hrs. By Carer Ejaz. Who told me it had taken him about ten minutes to wake me up! I swiftly fell asleep again. Ejaz was concerned when I sat up and grabbed my lower belly in response to aches and pains. None were awful, but they remained for a few hours after Ejaz had gone. As Ejaz was issuing the medications, apparently, I nodded off again! I did not move from the bed during Ejaz’s visit. He removed the nocturnal catheter bag and applied Barrier cream to the leg-strapping wounds. They were much less bothersome and painful this morning. Being in bed for such a long time made the base of my sternum far more sore than it was yesterday, but the wounds looked better. Ejaz took this photo of the catheter contraption for me. I got the diabetic socks put on for me. Ejaz lost some time with having to rouse me. And I had to shoot off; I’d not moved during his visit.
When Ejaz left, I fell asleep yet again! Hence, there was little time to catch up or much photographicalisation today.
When I finally gingerly got up on my feet, my stomach ache steadily improved. But my concentration was not good at all.
I got on the computer, and the catheter pouch filled shortly after. When I went to empty it, the tube on the release valve was not there, making many messy emptyings throughout the day. I searched the flat, thinking it must have come off when Ejaz emptied it. He usually does not take it off. Sometimes, he’ll put it on. After failing to find the tube, I thought he might have pulled it off when he removed the nocturnal bag. He then put it in the kitchen rubbish bag, which has since been put down the waste chute. So, I’ll struggle on. Let’s face it, I’m good at struggling. Hehehe!
I was prepping to get today’s Ode started. But feeling better in myself now. Then… I found I’d left the damned hot water tap running again. How many times in two days? Three, I think!
A massive vagueness overcame me. It stayed visiting me until about 16:00hrs. It was in full flow when Carer Joe called around 13:15hrs. I’m unsure what we spoke about other than Joe’s plans to start sorting the clothes in the junk room tomorrow. So, maybe there will not be a blog for tomorrow, for the first time since I was in hospital in 2007. I think, but thinking is no longer a strong point for me. Hehe!
I took this snap on the left from the kitchenette window. I remembered to cause I knocked a jar of mushroom ketchup off the window ledge, and it landed on my . Not that it bothered me at all. I merely laughed it off and started singing to myself.
Then, I took another memory, prompting a snap of my beloved tree copse. I may have used the wrong photo here, or the computer posted the wrong one? Anyway, taking this snap hurt me more than the toe incident.
Then I realised that the sun covering Khagoule had fallen into the water jug on the floor.
So, I had to hang it on the shower curtain in the wet room to help it dry out. I also turned on the heater to encourage it to dry.
I visited the Porcelain Throne as well. Trotsky Terence was in control.
It was a messy job that took a long time because there was no hot water. Did I mention I’d left the hot tap running earlier?
The sun died temporarily while I was fetching water from the kettle, and walking with the walking stick was a bit risky.
I got some potatoes into the slow cooker that I forgot to tell you about earlier. 08:00hrs approximately) There are no secrets on this WordPress blog, Inchy Today!
I’m back on this blog after checking, updating and posting yesterday’s post to WordPress. Then, I started on this post.
I’ll check the potatoes. This is going to be a long job. Turn them (if ready), put them in the basin, bash them up, add no-butter butter, sea salt, Worcestershire, and Soy sauce, and then the tricky bit: grate and mix in Leicester cheese. Put the mixture in the oven and cook until the top has crispened. Prep[ping took me 35 minutes, and the washing things up after took me over half an hour.
I pray I don’t let them burn… Please!
It took me hours to get the potatoes sorted and mashed with the shredded Leicester cheese and red onions. I found evidence in the morning, blood on the fridge door that indicated a cut thumb or fingernail) I washed the pots and put the dish into the oven to crisp it up nicely. This usually takes a good half-hour. Here it is before cooking. Carer Joe arrived as I was putting it in.
Medications issued. Joe said we would start sorting out tomorrow in the junk room. He’ll take the laundry down to the washer, come back, and we can sort the clothes out. This will free up many coat hangers. Because there are so many trousers, jumpers, shirts, and coats that no longer fit me. They don’t call me Mr Blobby for no reason, you know. Haha! He should have time to nip down, get the laundry in the dryer, and dry it for once. Joe’s got it all organised beforehand, which is a great help.
The potatoes were removed from the oven and put on a tray with some bread. I added some cut tomatoes, and I settled into the £300 second-hand shop-bought, c1966, moth-eaten, bedraggled, grotty, cringingly beige-coloured, much-dilapidated, crumb-containing from my nocturnal nibblings, bug-ridden, itch-inspiring, not-working recliner to watch an episode of my favourite, ‘Heartbeat’, on the TV to eat the meal. It took me a while to eat it all, but I did! Then, heaven… Zzz!
Carer Ejaz woke me up two hours later.
He removed my diabetic socks and mended the nocturnal catheter-damaged day bag. He also added a tube from another point to the current one. I checked the kitchen and bathroom and got my head down, but I forgot to put the nocturnal catheter pouch on. It’s hard to believe, I know.
So, when I was woken up by the pain from poor Little Inchie being tugged on with the weight as the pouch filled up, I had to get up to empty the pouch post-haste. Could I get back to sleep? No!
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – What did we do when info was ungoogleable?
A history homework exam, no answer. Inexcusable!
The library was closed, and Father was unhelpful!
What date was the battle for Constantinople?
Must I guess? No, the answer must be veridical,
If I fail another exam, I’m in for some ridicule,
How can I avoid risking the vituperable?
Pray to a God or something Mystical?
Miss school? Go the doctor with summat mythical?
No, that would be naughty and cynical,
Maybe give someone a phone call?
We don’t have one; how do I sort out this puzzle?
Visit my doctor, give teacher some tarradiddle,
I’m not a good liar, I’d not be believable,
Use a phone box. Yes, I’ve got a testrill…
Don’t know anyone with a phone… Testicles!
Yes, I do. I could call Auntie Carol,
Off to the GPO box, rained poured down terrible!
Ah, no phone book was available!
I resigned myself to my fate; I was threnetical,
Walked home. The rain died down to a trickle,
Dad’s gone out and locked me out. I’m in a pickle!
My thinking was in three-dimensional!
To me, the problem was not trivial,
The rain poured again, now torrential,
Knocked neighbours door, for shelter and a natter,
No answer, so I went for a soaking wet toddle…
Got in the outside toilet, passed a traditional,
Dad came back; he got a bit physical…
But dry at last, I almost felt triumphal,
Dad said, 1453. Then hit me with his belt buckle! – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
05:10hrs: After a night spent more waking than sleeping. I felt surprisingly alert and relatively active, lasting approximately one minute. This was a first for me: I fell out of the hospital bed because I overreached to get at the nocturnal night bag, which, for some unknown reason (well, it was Glaucoma Gladys, really), I thought was leaking. I rushed to get it upright after it fell off the safety bar holder. I landed face down on my slippers and the waste basket, in a semicrumpled painful heap! Then, as I recovered and grasped the bed to haul my gigantic body up, the quilts lost their grip, and there I was on the floor again, covered by the outer quilt and face down this time. I stayed there for a while to get my bearings and breath back. Then, after doing some deep breathing, I set about mountaineering my way up onto the bed. Either I had a seizure or else, inconceivably, I’d got up onto the bed and was sitting there safely, in two minutes! This couldn’t be right. How did I do that so quickly, and I may add, almost painlessly to boot? Had I just dreamt these events? No, the bent waste basket was in sight. Now, put it in the waste chute. Tsk! Then the aches from the bruised arm, and I went into a clearly identified seizure, which I think lasted for five minutes or so. I needed a little longer doing nothing, which I did. Incredulously, I did not feel depressed or angry with myself. I decided to get the ablutions done ASAP and apply some Phorpain gel to the cartilages, back, and neck afterwards. It sounded logical to me. .
I got sidetracked from my plans as soon as I went to check the kitchen for running taps, open doors, or left-on stoves. They were all as they should be.
This morning, the moon was much smaller and had lost its red/orange tinge. Kodak Tim 2 was used to take these snaps of the planet. They are not as good as yesterday’s, which were not as good as the day before.
Well, these went well overall! There were just two nicks shaving. The bowl of water I used to stand in to clean the feet was not tipped over. There were no tumbles in the wet room. And I seemed to get them done quickly—but did I? I was not rushing. The medicalisationing was not so successful. Because I could not reach my back to put the ointment on the bruises, Acne or eczema on my back. I’ll ask the carer, to help when he comes. As usual, the worst medicating bit was applying and rubbing in the stinging ointment . Not that it bothered me, of course. Ahem! I got the pain gel cream on and .
Duties.
Trotsky Terence had an even greater bearing on this morning’s evacuation. Phoo! The stink almost overpowered me. Soft yet sticky and smelly. Karki coloured. Eurgh!
Another of the mysteries of Woodthorpe Court, with the hobgoblins, spectres, gnomai, phantasms, ailments, seizures, Glaucoma Gladys, Peripheral Neropathy, dying neurotransmitters, grotesque succubae, Whoopsiedangleplops, ailments, extraterrestrials, ectoplasms, spirits, Accifauxpas, rent increases, food price hikes, and the Fata Morganas, that have been sent to taunt, is how I recovered so well after the two tumbles? Feeling alright again now. The bruises and back pain are bothering me, but nothing is serious.
I made myself my first mug of Glengettie tea since last Thursday. I’ve never gone three days without a brew of tea since I’ve been here! I noticed it was only 07:20 on the clock calendar, which matched the computer’s. However, how did I get everything sorted out, abluted and on the computer so quickly?
Carer Arhem arrived as I was about to hoover the hallway. (It never got done!) The lad put on my diabetic socks, issued the prescription medications, and reminded me of the vitamin B12 tablet. We chatted for a minute or two, as best we could, and then he did an Alert Alarm Battery Check with the NCC Control. We said our “Taras,” literally. I explained what it meant a week ago, and he uses it every call now. Bless him. He’s a lovely lad.
Keeps visiting for shorter periods but more often today, uo to now anyway. , and were regular, and the were more active than ever
I took this shot through the balcony doors. Then, the fatigue hit me earlier in the day than ever. It might be connected to the tumbles. I still can’t understand how I’m not in worse condition. I’m not complaining, mind you. Oh, no! I am more tired than ever. I have to just stop.
Never got back on the computer again today. I’ll try to catch up tomorrow. Not good this. – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – <<<<<>>>>> – – – – – – – Be aware that in indiscretion, You may get a mental collision, Which can cause self-derision, Messing up your neurotransmission, And, without your permission! Ailments have no obluctation, You feel that they get oblectation, You visit your neurosurgeon… Is life a pseudo-hallucination? All of our lives are in regression, You’ve lost your retrocognition, PN, DVT, no prognostication, Pharmageddon via your medication? First Diarrhorea, & next constipation, Confidence dies, feeling a pigwidgeon, You think your brain’s an odditorium, And life has got to be ordalian, Do you feel different? Quotidian? Is your social life in desolation? Struggling with conceptualisation? Are you livelier, antemeridian? At noon, do you feel weather-beaten? Do you get afternoon exhaustion? Is tea-time your kipping season? In bed, you can’t sleep for some reason? Is mental fatigue the causation? Or is it your body’s erosion? Does the world seem dystopian? Suffer from sanitary & sanity deterioration? This is often just an old-age condition, Do you think an interruption, a disruption? Have you yet visited a psychometrician? Does Earth need a reconceptualisation? Do you believe in reincarnation? Don’t expect a new life to be utopian! Holidaying in the toilet or the Caribbean? Has life been riddled with Damnification? Was it spent in the lower echelon? Do you suffer self-expostulation? Do you know Earth’s nearing extinction? This is not a joke or effutiation… On this, I stake my reputation, Do you feel an antiquarian?… Well, don’t; it might cause acerbation! It’s now time for an epiphenomenon, Use your brain & nervous system… Admit your guilt, write a eulogium, Shout from Earth’s highest fastigium, Humankind’s end is undoubtedly not an illusion, We’ll all be free of intimidation… Wars, murders, Oligarchs, every politician, The greed, hatred and the odium, Dead, we’ll all be egalitarian! No way get a world-peace installation, Well, this is my prediction… It won’t bear too much contradiction… Life’s events timewise, socialisation… Birth, drugs, sex, physician, mortician, Even if this gives you the impression… That I’m suffering from depression! It’s good to see the back of discrimination! I believe this is mostly speculation… Of course, it’s all theorisation, Moulded to bring frivolity & jollification! – – – – – – – <<<<<>>>>> – – – – – – –
05:20hrs: I rose fumblingly from the hospital bed, trapping the nocturnal catheter bag on the remote bed adjuster, and gave Little Inchie a hell of a tug. This started Inchies’s fungal lesion bleeding; it bled on the quilt, down my leg, and onto the carpet. After I sorted out the mess, I went to the wet room to empty and wrap the catheter pouch that had been removed.
After months without a stubbed toe, I gave myself a second one in two days, on the same ingrowing toenail, as yesterday.
Then, I took a regulation photo of the morning view from the kitchenette window. Well, I got two. This is one of a man and his dog walking into the tree copse over the road, the dog’s tail wagging furiously. A double dose of jealousy affected me. Haha! First, I wished I had a cat or dog for company; second, I missed my beloved, unable to do a daily walk through the copse. (Feeling a smidgeon sorry for myself now.)
Luckily, next, I had just nipped into the wet room to check I’d not left any taps running and found again. I’d run out of the cortisone cream. So I cleaned it and used some of the Germolene instead. Then, I returned to the kitchen and took another photograph of the broad view on offer. Red sky in the morning, Shepherd’s warning!
A bit of a marathon this morning. Bled a little more, I tipped over the bowl I was putting on the floor to stand in while shaving. Bending down to clear up the mess, and flowed again! I finished shaving and got the PPs on. I also touched up the Fungal Lesion, using the acne & eczema cream this time. I’d searched the medication drawers and found a partly filled tube of a different name. But it had a use-by date on it of… Hard to believe, I know, that it’s November 2019!
Carer Joe did the first call. I forgot to mention that Friday was the change-the-catheter bag day.
I booted the computer, an spent the nexy three hours farting about trying to get the photos to save to file. I did the first four, and there was no problem. Then it stopped saving. The usual cCleaner routine; I had to do it six times today! That didn’t help. So, I turned everything off and back on again. That proved an idiotic thing to do, well, not that actually, but forgetting to save the ode I was partway through writing was stupid!
At least it wasn’t so bad—up until now, anyway. Things took a dip after the young girl Carer called on her visit. I was still trying to sort out CorelDRAW and the photos, and a series of kicked off that stayed on and off for a good three hours. This threw me out altogether. With my concentration gone, I managed to get some photos backed up later, but I had to delete the ones used and replace them with the new ones, so to put it. Now, the only copies left are on WordPress, and they can’t be copied or saved for use on the blog or email. I’m not sure if I was heartbroken, frustrated, or I was momentarily leaning towards suicidal.When the Iceland order arrived, I only took one photo of the whole fridge. I didn’t bother taking more because I knew the chances of using them lay within the corrupt power of my old, in-need-of-help, ailing, terminally ill computer. I got some stuff I can’t remember ordering. And somehow I believed I’d ordered some tinned baked beans and tomatoes, none came. It will be better when Carer Joe starts helping with the food ordering. I can’t be relied on, know it, and am incapable of anything that involves numbers, dates, concentration or logic.
The Social Services lady rang to ask how the new Carers were doing. Last week, I wondered if there was any chance of help getting me out shopping rather than the mistake-ridden online routine. The Carer said his boss said no chance. But the Social Lady told me they are giving me an extra hour (Still got to pay for, of course) for domestic and/or shopping assistance. Going slowly senile is a horrible thing, cause you know it, don’t want it, and can do nothing about it. I suppose it’s a little bit like my sex life, nonexistent. Hehehe!
Carer Ahram made the last two calls. He was in a good mood, bless him. The communication was complex, but I like the lad. When she rang, I told the Social lady that he’s likeable and willing. Without Carer Joe, I might have cracked up last week. His help was invaluable to me.
I did notice that when someone came and I put in the repaired hearing aids, I could hear the wall clock ticking and other sounds I could not recognise. Haha!
By the time I finished the meal, it was past midnight. Three oven-baked bacon cobs. This is a terrible photo. I wish I had not bothered with taking it now! Getting this onto the blog took me over two hours in the morning! Saturday’s blog will be a smidge bland. I just can’t keep spending all this time getting the photos saved to file. As usual, the first two went on without a bother. The rest must have taken me hours and hours of repeated failed tries. This can’t go on. I openly beg someone to help me with the computer, please? The trouble is that I can no longer understand written instructions and don’t know any computer jargon, and I get more confused. – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – TTFN – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – For me, a gal must ooze pulchritudinous, It matters not if she is or isn’t punctilious… Precarious, precautious, or even predaceous! As long as she’s not pompous or pretentious, She can show practicalness or be pecunious, Be prosperous, silly, or pugnacious, Be pretentious, previous, or procacious, For one to attract me, she must be plumptious, No need for her to be clever or perspicacious I’m not after bodily prettiness, As long as she likes a laugh and is pervious, I pray she’ll not be disloyal or perfidious, A septuagenarian, & a smidge mischievous! I could buy us a couple of paragliders, Sorry if that sounded a smidge perverse,
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – I had a bad fall when I reached this stage, so I called it Part One and posted it off. An hour or so later, the nurse called, tending to the burst bag and bleeding from the tumble. Bless Her♥. I’ve made a brew of Glengettie and am starting again from here. I doubt if I’ll get this finished before midnight… well, I won’t. I wanted to stay awake to take the celebration fireworks at midnight, but I fear it may be too much. I’m praying that the seizures leave me alone. Depression creeping in again! – – – I’ll press on – Seizures and if the catheter allows it. – – – I’ve had a couple of bad days. Tsk!
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – 06:30hrs: I grumblingly 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, c1968 recliner. Knowing that after yesterday’s farcicalness, I had a busy day ahead of me. The morning’s Carer, then the domestic Carer, the food delivery, the INR Warfarin Nurse Hristina, and the midday Carer, and I was so far behind with the blogging I didn’t think I’d get yesterday done, let alone start on today. (Just the usual bleak morning moan to myself, nowadays) Little did I know what I had in store, or I may not have bothered getting up! I wish I hadn’t got up now, but not then. I think I got that right?
I removed the nocturnal catheter pouch. This is one of them I had to buy cause of the mess up and lack of help with my ordering. Some do have a drainage clip that has no drainage tube. Took it to the WC and used scissors to cut and drain the pouch. Still, it was no bother and went okay. As I got to the kitchen to get the kettle on, the innards grumbled and rumbled; in response, I returned hastily to the Porcelain Throne. Trotsky Terence was now back in full control! The evacuated product funked awful. It took me ages to clean up the splatters from my clothes and the china.
I got the ablutions, a stand-up shave, teggies, body scrub, oiled the earholes, and drops in the eyes. Germoloided Harold’s Haemorrhoids, Barrier Creamed the Acne & Eczema. Then Porpain Gelled Arthur Itis’s and Cartilage Carol & Chloe’s knees, the underbelly lesions & underarms. I couldn’t reach Phorpain Gel Back Pain Brenda; I was going to ask someone, a Carer, when they came next. But of course, I forgot all about it, even when she was playing me up! I’m forgetting more each day! Into the kitchen. I tried to get some decent shots of the views on offer through the window. But the photos didn’t come out very well. Not up to even my low standards. The last one I took of the houses on Cavendish Avenue was one of my biggest photograph failers ever. No idea what I did wrong, but Surely I must have done something wrong to get this terrible result on the right?
I returned to the wet room to ensure I hadn’t left the taps running. As I came out, the intercom chirped at me. I could not see who it was, so I thought it might be the deliveryman with the oh-so-expensive night catheters I’d had to order. But no! It turned out that it was Friday’s (as I thought) JS order. Fancy me getting things wrong like that! The driver kindly put the food in carriers and my boxes and then carried them to the kitchen for me. Kind of him. Spent a lot of cash this time! Mushrooms for pickling later on. Jamaica patties, a lamb and a beef one. Pork Pie, no-butter butter, Cornish Pasties, tomatoes, cream cake treats, and some horrendously pricey garden peas from Nigeria. I love these! Marmite Rice cakes, cheesy-topped rolls, a bag of sea salt & cider crisps and Marmite crisps. A bottle of mulled wine. Reduced to clear after Christmas. A large bottle, cans of Sainsbury’s cider, and a bottle of washing-up liquid.
I took this snap of myself inside the main junk room, looking through the balcony doors and blowing my nose. Then took the photo below as the day slowly dawned, and turned brighter. I sorted the waste bags to make room near the doorway; no carer had taken them. So, I took them to the chute and found an empty box there, just like Christopher had taken away from the flat yesterday. I put the three bags down the chute and broke the box up, which also went in. I hobbled back to the flat foyer, and as I did, it gave way to me, and I walked into the foyer door frame. I believe I said, “Well, fancy that!”
Carer Chloe arrived as I was about to put the food away after the photography session. She gave me medications, and I was lucky—yes! Although I didn’t realise it, and Chloe didn’t notice it, I’d dropped a tablet while taking them. Chloe said she was doing the Domestic visit and would be back later. I walked her to the door. When I got back in, and at long last on the computer, I espied a tablet I’d dropped on the carpet. And a good job, too; it was a beta-blocker! Not one to miss.
It was a mental battle trying to sort out what was what and what needed doing with having yesterday’s to do yet.
Chloe returned to do the domestic run. I started to place an order for next week from Asda, but again, it would not let me get on the site. Grrr!
I struggled to communicate with Chloe, yet I always seemed to be waffling and losing track. Then, my beloved Nurse Hristina arrived while Chloe was hoovering the hallway for me. What a triple blessing it was that she came! When I told her about the farce of running out of night catheters and buying them, she found the number to ring, then called them for me on her mobile, too! ♥ I’d mentioned to her earlier that the cotton wool-looking material came through the tube from the bladder and got stuck, causing the uncomfortable flow back sensation. Hristina told whoever she was talking to, and they told her that it would be a bladder infection and that they would send a nurse to see me when they got back from the New Year Break and ordered the catheters straight away, wanting to know why the Carers had not contacted her. Hristina then showed me how to open the night bag to drain it! Worth her weight in gold she is! The most patient and understanding nurse I’ve ever known. 💛 She helped me today more than anyone else has in weeks. Hristina left, leaving a respectful and appreciative Inchy.
Carer Sam did the middle call. We laughed about things I was going through, which helped me cope.
Carer Joanne 💛, on her way home, called to see me. She collected the not machine-washable laundry. I insisted she pick up a bottle of her choice as a New Year’s treat. (I did the same with each Carer today) She said that her elderly neighbour had gone to the hospital, so she was late in collecting the washing. I can tell you that a woman who takes, hand washes, and returns my nightwear and brings it back for me is yet another angel I’ve acquired. My sort of gal, too.
I managed about five minutes on the blog, and the landline chimed up. The call was from Sister Jane. Not heard from her for a while. All the best for the new year sort of thing. But had a good chat. Jane & Pete are going to the pantomime shortly. She was sorting the food, and Pete the booze. Hehehe! The natter brought up memories to share between us, all good or neutral ones, though. Nowt unnice!
I tried to get some more done on the blog. The landline chirruped again. It was from the Doctor’s surgery receptionist. She advised me of this morning’s blood test result (Gawd, that was quick). Apparently, the INR level plummeted from 3.2 to 2.6, which is not good. The medication doses were also increased. I wrote the details on Google Calendar.
Then, back to have another go at this blog. Life seems like an awful slog! I waited for my brain to defog, Then I had an in-the-bog! I emptied the pouch, cleaned and flushed the WC, and turned to leave. As I went through the door, I accidentally shoulder-charged the door frame. Apart from triggering Shaking-Shoulder-Shirley, I let slip a few vulgar words that I shall not repeat here.
I returned to the computer again and finished about 15 minutes of work. The door chime chimed out! En route to the door, this time, Cartilage Carole gave way. I opened the door, and to my delight, the postman was working late and delivering my eBay-bought nocturnal catheters! We had a chinwag, as we both have catheters, but he has the latest ones, which look so painless to wear; I was jealous when he told me the other week about it. He is being sent supplies that have built up, and he has too many! Another twitch of jealousy crept in; Hahaha! He kindly told me that if I was ever running so low again, I was to put a note on the door, ‘Barry, I’m short on night catheters’. He even checked on my catheter to ensure the tubing was the same size. What a kind, thoughtful gentleman he is! I gathered the items needed to make the pickled mushrooms. got the mushroom in the slow cooker, on a high heat,
Hope it works okay.
Going to take a photo of the evening sky, this time it was who went on me. Most unfortunately, I clunked down onto the left knee with a sickening thud, and once again, I gave a clouting . The Catheter Day pouch took a good hit but surprisingly did not split open. Even more amazingly, as I was about to get back into the main junk room and the recliner to get back up again, I grabbed the sink side and got up; painfully, but I got up! Within a minute of getting 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, to recover from the fall and Phorpain gell certain areas, knees, back and where I could reach of the shoulder.
And the doorbell sounded its version of ‘Oh, Susana’. It was a Community Nurse. She’s come in response to Nurse Hristina’s telephone call to look at my wedding tackle area regarding the cause of the bladder infections. I went into a deep seizure while we were talking. I thought she had Phorpain gelled my back and for me. I’m unsure what else occurred, but I was deeply out of it. But she seemed happy enough when she left, as I was returning to near normality. Well, that may be pushing it! Ah, she did give me a painkiller, I think… waylay that, now I’m writing this, I’m not so sure… something in my warped mind tells me she did. But, in the malaise of my muddled mind.
I sat still and quiet for a while. Then got back on the computer… Carer Chris arrived. No socks were taken off, and I was going to stay up to try to take some fireworks photos. He was given medications. I treated him to his bottle and cream cakes early, as he said he was not doing the late call. But no one made the late call. Well, it is nearly New Year’s Day.
It is now 5 minutes to midnight. I will hobble into the kitchen, camera around my neck, and await the hour.
It is now 0015hrs and the New Year! Photographs have been taken of the fireworks. Now, to see if I can get them on the computer. When I opened the window, the gusty winds blew in the just-starting rain! I’ve had to disrobe myself of the now wet bobcap and dressing gown! Humph! Hope the camera is okay!
Here Are NYD Firework Photos Taken
Art Decko?
Electric Art?
A bit of both?
Well, what can I say?
. I was getting wetter!
Ah, well, I did my best!
Ah, better get the mushrooms into the pickle jar. I would have a pastie, peas and chips for my morning meal. But I’m too worn out to bother now.
What a busy day again. I thought I retired 15 years ago?
0330hrs: Drained beyond belief. But hunger took a grip. Cooking is not easy when one is mentally and physically drained. Sometimes, one burns one’s vegetable pate, as seen below. Hehe! But I ate it all!
I went to get the pots and dishes washed. My eyes were almost closing as I did this. Then, as I had the light on and looked out of the window, I thought a final photo was called for to try and get a reflection shot of the kitchen, still seeing the relentless rain and me. But of course, you can’t photo wind. Hehe! I dragged myself into the junk room and deposited my tired, weary body and brain in the £300 second-hand shop purchased in 1966, which was a welt-causing, uncomfortable, not working, itch-inspirational, and crumb-containing recliner.
As no late Carer had arrived, I attached the nocturnal catheter pouch to the day pouch. Then, I ate a pot of jelly, put the TV on to catch the news, and planned to move into the hospital bed. Unfortunately, this didn’t happen. I’d nodded off into bliss within seconds of the TV adverts starting. Woke up with a jump later, turned off the TV, cleaned up raspberry jelly from my bulbous mountainous belly, and rejoined Sweet Morpheus. Where I stayed until 06:15hrs. Not a long kip, but it was much needed. – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – Despite the continuing Whoopsiedangleplops, Mishaps and Accifauxas of the last four days, today had some lovely touching moments that were well appreciated. The amazing Nurse Hristinas helping above and beyond. The kind postman’s offer over the night catheter bags. The community nurse called to check on me. Again, I won’t mention the many failings, irritations, and annoyances I suffered. I’m sick of hearing myself moan! – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – An ode to Keir, praise not being included…
In power because he’s been adfected,
He had earlier got himself benighted,
HMG he has soon affected, loyalty rejected…
He is a robot, not compassioned,
As Labour leader, then the PM, he was elected,
Beating the sad Tories and getting adulated,
As PM, his self-greed exploded,
But the electors were soon acerbated,
His speeches were bland, circumlocuted,
He lies by omission; his talks are bloviated…
Pensioners Fuel allowance he discarded,
Tax on farmers up, as Keir fanfaronaded,
Did anyone notice when he lied, he mussitated?
I thought Christmas might be cancelled!
I half-expected it would be nuncupated,
Blair’s fiddling used to get me irritated,
Brown’s clangers were unprecedented,
But Starmer, he gets me nauseated,
He also gets me over-wherrited,
His cruelty & lies will never be obtunded,
Guilty but got off scot-free, vindicated!
I’m sorry that I just pasquinaded…
But it’d be nice to see him assassinated!
Of to the Porcelain Throne, I just ventilated! – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – THE THINGS I COME OUT WITH! Hehehe!
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – Another partly full-of-beans awakening this morning! And why not? I’d been blessed with 8hrs in bed and only waking up with a jump three times. Yes!
When I realised that the nocturnal catheter pouch valve had not been opened, I felt a little flow-back pain the moment from the bladder when I moved. But nae bother or frustration this time. I put the nocturnal pouch on and forgot to release the valve. I was remarkably calm over this cock-up. Despite the discomfort, I was singing to myself as I emptied the rather over-full day pouch, and even when I had to hasten to the Porcelain Throne, I accompanied myself with a few toneless Elvis songs. And the urine I’d just emptied from the jug was a 6 on the NHS scale. I wasn’t overly worried. Then I changed to an Acker Bilk Song, ‘Bona Sera, Seniorita’, following up with Adam Faith’s ‘My Last Wish’. Yes! I was aware of my upbeatness and enjoyed it! I was bounced back to reality when I went into the kitchen from the wet room.
I soon found myself in an instant depression . Self-hating, spitting, self-lambasting, and swearing began! Then , she kicked off yet again, but far worse than she was yesterday. Although I thought that was bad yesterday, now I know it wasn’t.
It was as if they had a compunction to join minutes later and played up.
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
I got the kettle on to brew a mug of Co-op 99 tea. Then I opened the window to take some snaps of the morning views on offer. A genuinely blue sky looked impressive from where I stood, holding my chest, trying to ignore Anne Gyna’s stabbing, moving around the torso’s chest pains.
I’ll try to see if it’s the same shade tonight. I’d also like to take some zoomed-in shots of the Christmas-decorated houses and trees tonight.
Anne Gyna is still having fun with me. I took an extra naughty Codeine 30g painkiller. A mug of tea and I planned to make a start on the blogging.
Carer Promise arrived. He was in a good mood. Carer Joanne put the diabetic sock on for me late last night, I think. Medications were issued. And I inquired into his plans for Christmas. He said he had none. Is he working! The holiday foods arrived with a few more treats. I had a heck of a job getting the stuff into the freezer & fridge, more the freezer.
The fridge was stocked up enough. Compared to the freezer, which had to be emptied of some foods to make way for the new stuff. Tsk!
You can see when I showed Carer Carole later how full it was; I had to open the two fish boxes in batter and put them in loose. Otherwise, I’d never have got them in! Talk about cram-packed. Hehe! It lessened later when I took out some treats to hand out. I’ll not starve, despite SS Unterofficer Herr Starmer doing his level-crooked best to starve pensioners this year.
Then, things were taken over by it and persistent . I nearly took another extra Codeine, but I stopped myself.
I’d two deliveries coming today from Amazon. I hope they get it right this time. Do you remember a few weeks ago, the microwave wear was left outside on the flat’s porch? And the toothache painkiller was delivered to the wrong flat, and the gentleman who was expecting a delivery for himself thought it was his. Until he opened it and saw it was for number 72, not his flat, and he kindly brought it up for me. ARGH! AGAIN! .The site said it was delivered and handed to the customer. Well, it wasn’t! I had to get some clothes on. And to empty the catheter. Getting the trousers on with the catheter is time-consuming, risky, and painful! Then get down in the lift to see if they had left it in the foyer again. I couldn’t see it. So, I returned and got proper-flummoxed with Amazon’s deliberately awkward and hard-to-understand complaint system.
I somehow found a butt n that got me to a department that I could only input details from the list they supplied. I thought I was getting somewhere when, on the second try, I got through to a Q&A list, which offered a button to press for the Customer Service Department, and I pushed it – Nothing happened, but the screen disappeared. I tried it again. Whoever it was, AI, I think, said I needed to contact another department. But didn’t say how to do so. A third try got me as far as that again.
I was getting uptight with the frustration and pains from Anne Gyna to boot. Once more, I started from scratch but gave up. As I was sat here swearing out loud, the door chime chimed.
A resident was bringing me the disinfectant that had been left with him in error. He was not very happy. I thanked him and got back on the computer.
Lousy timing, kicked of again.
No idea what I was doing, but when things cleared, I’d closed the multitude of open Amazon windows. And started to worry about the disinfectant & cleaners being delivered
I opened Amazon’s page to track the parcel.
I gave in and took another Codeine 30m. Ann Gyna was getting worse, not any better or easier! Checked the tracker for the delivery.
I realised that walking down and back up had started the bleeding of the ankle ulcer. Boy, was I fed up! Well, Yes!
This driver was as good as gold. Brought up the freshener and Zoflora lemon Sherbert disinfectant to the door for me.
I’m going to get something to eat now.
I can finish this in the morning if I get up.
TTFN.
Goodeth Morning!
Woke up at 06:45hrs, Rather Later than planned
Update Battered fish balls, terrible potatoes, two none-butter-buttered cheesy cobs, pickled water chestnuts, pickled mushrooms, garden peas, and a Lemon Fool dessert.
Carer Chris made his last call at 0925hrs. Diabetic socks off & medications sorted.
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – Discussing death is not at all morbid, I do it sometimes with my mate Sid,
Sid: ‘Are your valuables well hidden’ I didn’t mind there was no altercation, Well, I can’t take it with me to heaven! Sid: I bet you are worth a few quid? Sid: Funeral paid for? I’m not being sordid… Sid: But this mornin’, you look very pallid! It’s so nice of him to care; he’s a kind person, Sid: You deserve to be placed in a pyramid!
Sid: Done your will? Considering an alteration? Sid: Did you invest in gold bullion? Sid: You must eat well before you’re befallen! I live on beer, chip butties & bacon,
Life is just an introgression, an intermission…
An incomprehension, until cometh the conclusion, Sid: You’re causing me some confusion! Maybe that’s cause life is an illusion? Full of greed, hatred, & Oligarchism, Like Starmer as PM; pure idiotism! My faith in humankind’s incomprehension… Has shrivelled, shrunk and withern! At the politicians’ uncaring & indecorum, Sid: Death’s not yet in my jurisdiction, Sid: But I’ll make this prediction… Sid: When you get to the gates of heaven… Sid: St. Peter will think you’re on some cannabinoid, Sid: You’ll talk his head off, spouting turgid flid, Sid: He’ll not send you to hell; that’s hot and foetid! Sid: He’ll send back to earth, and trepid old Sid! What’s the damned code to open your safebox lid! – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – The day began with Inchie unaccountably in slightly less of a depression. He could see no reason, rhyme, or logic in this predicament of Near-Contentment that he found himself in. And, this Sod-‘Em-Allness remained with him until noon. All the regular problems remained unsolved; Anne Gyna was appreciably worse than yesterday. And Mini-Seizures from Sandra were coming at pretty regular intervals all day long. They were short ones until teatime, then she threw some longer ones at him. Which meant that he got very little done in the afternoon and evening. The blogging he did was so time-consuming. There were a few thoughts in the PM about photographing, but he struggled to get the basics right. But a determination of sorts was in his little brain, and he pressed on regardless. Unbelievably, he kept correcting things wrongly. Several times, he thought Grammarly was in the wrong, and he used it so much that he thought it might blow up. Hehehe! Knowing full well it was the blame of Seizure Sandra, Anne Gyna & Doreen Dementia. Cartilages Chloe and Carol gave him very little trouble. I wrote this earlier until Cartilage Chloe gave way, and a headfirst tumble was taken in the kitchen. He tried to take a photo of where he hit his chest, just under his left man-breast. The dolt took two or three shots hoping to get one that would be clear enough to use. It’s almost needless for me to say this, but he’s left the SD card on the computer. His being close to chirpiness this morning had become a feast for the ruler of emotions . He’s still moping about sulking and self-lambasting. Sickenly sad, innit? – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – A decent enough night’s sleep, by my standards. Broken as usual, but I think I grabbed about five hours out of it.
The nocturnal catheter pouch didn’t have much in it. Later on. Carer Sam gave this one a 6 on the NHS colour grading scale card. A bit deep?
I made some waste bags into one and placed it near the front door to take to the chute a little later on when the noise shouldn’t disturb the late-sleeping tenants. I think it was early enough for me to tackle the ablutions, as even if the prescriptions arrive today, they will not deliver this early. & It was too early to take a shower. So I had a strip body wash after getting naked & chilly. I put the wall heater on and started the mammoth job of cleaning my torso & privates. Then, onto the shaving. Two teeny-weeny cuts. I later discovered it was four. I found a new dark brown bruise-like patch of about 1 x 1½ inches under the man-breast had grown a bit. I cleaned my elephantine body and the tender areas that needed medicationing. I started with the lotions, ointments and creams. Only Little Inchies Fungal Lesion was painful enough to mention. In fact… Argh!
After doing the waste bag, I could see, very high in the sky, the moon, and maybe Venus as well. Nice!
I boiled some mushrooms for pickling. They were not very good ones. They were too big and well bruised. So this time, I quartered them. I got them in the slow cooker with water & malt vinegar and forgot all about them.
I began updating the blog, and although the blanks were brief, they kept piling up. After about four hours of effort without significant progress, I abandoned the blog.
I’m sorry, but this visit deserves a good true tale-telling! When I stood up from the chair. Masses of wind blasted out from my rear end! Sensibley for once, I hobbled hastily to the wet room. But wind like that and no escapages had me expecting that would be in charge this session. I was right, too!
Gawd knows how long I sat there trying to encourage the motion to begin; each push was getting more painful. I think this job was more hurtful than when I ointmentated . This was a first for me; agony is not a strong enough word! Each hardly moving, millimetre at a time, shuddering as I inched things along. It was harrowingly excruciating. I must have taken a dozen or more pushes before the torpedo emerged, let alone came out! I could feel the warm blood running down my legs as it moved oh so slowly, needing even more effort to get it moving again; as it hurt that much, I had to take a breather and then start again. There was no plop or splash when it did get free… that was because it was that long and fat; it must have been in the water long ago. It took me a while before I dared to inspect the aftermath! There was an unbelievable eureka moment! It was ginormous! From under the water to almost level with the plastic seat! Then the miracle… I twisted the handle; it took a while, but everything disappeared down to the sewer, with no breaking things up and just the on the turn! All that needed cleaning up was bleeding! Of course, the back passage was a little sore. Hehe! A half a tube of Germoloid Ointment eased things. I was not sorry that the visit was over and done with. I did wonder what might have happened if I’d had a seizure, leg dance, or electric leg shock while in the wet room performing? I clearly recall shuddering at the thought. Haha!
The seizures continued when I eventually got back to the blogging. However, it seems I made a bit of a , as I struggled with repeated mini bouts from . Not realising this for hours. I’d started on this blog, forgetting I’d not finished yesterday’s yet!
Carer Sam arrived. Bless her; she applied the Barrier cream to the sides of my torso so that I could not reach myself. She spotted the bruise-like growth as well. And she put my diabetic sock on my legs for me. ♥
I decided to have a mug of Co-op 99 tea. As I entered the kitchen, I noticed the mushrooms and water chestnuts were still bubbling away in the slow cooker! However, they had become even darker, shrivelled, and much smaller, so I started a salvage operation. Haha! I got them in a basin from the stockpot basin… Yes, I burnt a finger or two doing so! Ran cold water through the sieve that I’d put the mushroom and chestnuts in to make sure they would be cold enough to put in the used pickle jar and go into the fridge for three days to properly pickle them. I put the food into the jar and filled it with pickling vinegar and pickling spices. I added some basil & garden & peas to the jar. Popped it into the fridge and realised I’d got the previous two jars in there, with no date on them to check when they would be ready to eat. Then I noticed the fresh raw garden peas packet in the fridge door. I took them with my mug of tea to the computer and ate them all! And very nice they were too! Even with the mug of tea!
Carer Chris arrived. I can’t recall owt about it.
But I can remember making and eating the nosh! Naturally, the Marmite and Yeast were added. Yummy! – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – TTFN, Everyone!
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