– – – – – – – – PART ONE – – – – – – – – In 1950, I went on holiday to Wales. I lodged in Tintern village. It was steeped in history, with stone pubs and the evocative ruins of Tintern Abbey, dating back to the 12th century. With its Devil’s Pulpit legend, a local myth about the Devil tempting monks from a rocky outcrop above the abbey ruins, to sin, debauch & have a good time. This fable interested me, and on the first morning, instead of going fishing, I ventured up the rock-strewn precipice up to the Abbey Grounds and into a large wooded area. Where, the locals told me, many poachers had been found with their throats cut. With the Devil tempting monks from a rocky outcrop above the abbey ruins, to sin, debauch & have a good time… I wondered if he was still in there…
I came across a very old wishing well and casually threw in a penny, wishing I could see the Devil’s Pulpit. Well, you would have, wouldn’t you? As an afterthought, I lobbed in a threepenny bit, and asked to be given the power of time travel – I turned my head and all around me was devastation, no plants, animals or people. Then, right next to me, a sort of spaceship appeared from nowhere. Out of the ship came three men in uniforms with some kind of weapons, and they dragged me into their craft. No one spoke to me; they clouted me around the head and kicked me in the goolie occasionally, but no one spoke. I thought I must be dreaming. Then realised the blood coming from my newly acquired wounds was real. Within a couple of minutes, I was put in a large room and hung up on the wall. It looked very hygienic and clean, so I wouldn’t have been at the old Abbey. An hour passed, and I took a glance at the police officers of some sort, by looking at their uniforms. They cut me down. Then pointed to the open door, still not speaking to me. They had floating on air vehicles. I was put alone in one of the seats, and it took me through several walls, rooms, out over some turfing, and into what was obviously a court of some sort. Whatever they were in this massive room, they spoke to me in good English. I can’t recall the exact words, but it went along these lines: James Timothy Gerald Algernoon Chambers, also known as Inchie, is charged with operating a time machine in a careless, uncontrolled fashion, causing damage to the flora and fungi in Sector 114/TT in the Republic of Wales this day, Thursday, 324th of Junnock 4025. How do you plead? “I haven’t got a time machine!” “Liar! His Lordship, the Devil’s Pulpit, issued you with one in 1951, that’s how you go here!” “Well, I was the wishing well and…” “Hold it, more evidence coming in…” “It seems to have attempted to bribe the Wishing Well with extra funds to get time-travel, according to our records.” “You know full well that each time machine operates differently, I mean, you wouldn’t drive a Sinclair 5013688014956BEX the same as you would a TREX05, now would you? That’s obvious to anyone!”. The man with three eyes interrupted the four-eyed judge: “Are you saying you are operating a Time-Machine without a Licence?” “Well… yes!” There was an aghast sound from the gallery, with the odd, “Hang-Him! Cut-of-his-goolies! Give him life!. A spoke up in protest, “That’s not fair!”
“It’s the law, Inchie. You will be beheaded on the guillotine in…”
A bald man rose and pleaded for mercy for me.
“M’Lord, can we not show mercy? At least make an appeal to our barrister-minded Saviour, His Everythingness Head Wallah, for mercy – naturally throwing in a decent backhander for Starmer?
Hahaha! – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – There’s more to come on this!
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
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.
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – Where do I leave my words of perspicuity?
I’ll try to explain to you clearly,
Mayhap inside a time capsule,
Where do we bury it? In a school,
Perhaps a police station or hospital?
All three will be run by the Oligarchy,
Used by backhanergivers & the aristocracy,
If Herr Starmer gets his way,
What goes in our time capsule?
The lies of Herr Starmer, the fool?
His standards? Self-motivated & dual…
Kiers lies, barriserial & political?
I, like millions, look forward to his burial! – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
What a day! The agony started as soon as I woke up. I was in fact enjoying the peace of being in a seizure, unaware of that, of course, it seems the only way to get any sleep and stay in it nowadays, but the recovering after effects were pretty harmful, as per usual. The door chime rang, stirring me cruelly back to reality. But my confusion and balance were all over the place. Getting out of bed took that long; the chime stopped. I continued the battle to get on my feet and carried the nocturnal bag with me to save time, to reach the panel when they called back, and to unlock the door.
In the rush and confusion, I got the catheter bag caught on the corner shelf as I exited the room… Knocking off and breaking a small ornament I kept in memory of my wonderful Aunty Kath. Amidst all the panic, Depression Darius joined me, with Frustration Frank and a rare visitor, Fearful Fred. I was aware that the confusion and panic were coming from the seizure recovery, but that didn’t help.
When I unlocked the door, and, daft as it sounds, I had no idea what day or time it was, which panicked me further. I’d had no rest & recovery time, do you see? I’ve no idea what happened, just a few odd bits, of which I’m not certain anyway.
When Carer Nimra came in, I was back sitting on the bed with my head in my hands. (The head hadn’t fallen off, Hehe!) No recollection of much of what took place. Lots did, cause there was a full page of scribbled notes about it. Undecipherable, so I must have written them while still recovering after Carer Nimra had departed. The last bit I could read… I went into another seizure as Nimra left. I recall her telling me to sit down, I’m going now… There was nothing the gal could do anyway. Bless her. I got back on the bed. I think it was minutes later, I came back to reality, and all the after-effect symptoms had, as expected, returned. I was not going to risk getting up too quickly or soon after being forced to; that was not a pleasant experience.
I rose carefully about 15 minutes later. Grabbed Willie the Wooden Walking Stick. Off to the kitchen to steep a Detox bag in water. I visited the Porcelain Throne. Feeling more comfortable and with it as time passed. A 100% turnaround in the evacuation. Hard work, painful and bloody session. Yet a nice change from the last eight sloppy, wet, spattery Trotsky Terence cleaning up-after trips.
Later, I found this shot of the trees & bushes on the front of the flat’s walkway and carpark. I can’t recall when, or even if, I took it.
There were numerous issues with CorelDraw and the SD reader; in fact, it completely crashed. Boy, was I struggling with fitting the new one. Yes, I was! I got the new SD reader out of its box. The SD cards now have to be inserted upright, which my Cramp-ridden, arthritic, and Peripheral neuropathy-affected fingers were reluctant to let me do. The more I use it, the easier it might get. It features several additional benefits, including a turn-on/off button for each socket. Which will be no use to me if I can’t find out how to replug it in the back of the computer. I was leaning forward to plug in the one… and PN’s dying neurotransmitters, shot the wire from my grip… They often perform similar actions, such as preventing me from gripping something or not allowing me to release something.I’ve broken countless mugs and plates. You may have noticed I no longer use plates, only paper ones or metal ones. This can be a problem when removing a hot dish from the microwave or oven, and I’m unable to release the hot dish or tray. You may have noticed the number of burns I collect. Haha! I was nearing the point of accepting that forgetting the socket for us and losing the plug wire would cause a terminal issue here. Carer Nimra arrived at just the right moment. At my point of despair… She knew which socket to use and inserted it for me. WALLAH! And I then had a new SD reader that worked YeeHaa! No, double, even treble YeeHaa! Bless her cotton socks! But, more good news! I know, you are not used to getting good news from Inchie Today. I put the mousse and keyboard senders in the last two plugs, and the SD reader in the next one. There are on/off buttons for each connection! I then grilled Nimra, asking what had taken place this morning, saying I couldn’t recall. She calmly told me I was all over the place verbally and physically. But don’t worry, you coped well with it all. I realised she’d not put the diabetic socks on, but had given me the morning’s prescription medications. So I spent the day sockless, Herhehe! Undoubtedly, this saved the day for me and was what spurred a short, but pleasantly acceptable visit from ! Then… No chance to start yesterday’s blog update yet. Because the frustratingly unreliable CorelDraw started playing up, and after sorting out the failure to save the page was due to a lack of memory, I pondered what I could do about it.
Going into a seizure, the length of reading War & Peace, compared to the usual 2 to 15 minutes, did me no good at all. I cannot judge how long it lasted, but it must have been a long one, because the after-effects and recovery time are always easier after a lengthy seizure. Also, the mug of Glengettie tea that I’d made was now stone cold! And, getting the brain to concentrate was a lot easier than after one or a series of .
I summoned as much intellectualisation as Premorbid Cognitive Impairment Mavis could muster, to try and find a solution to my problem with CorelDraw. Graphic artists worldwide have to do this regularly, I’m sure. So, having pondered, the best I could come up with was to use CCleaner and hope it creates enough space in the process. So, I did.
I had closed Excel and Word, then Google, and after saving the work, I ran CCleaner. It allowed me to keep CorelDraw open. (Sadists! Haha!) CCleaner claimed it had removed 2500 KB from the hard drive and 967 KB from the drive. This looks good, I thought.
Back to CorelDraw to try to save the work again. I opened Google, was going to go back to CorelDraw…
That went well… I waited, and waited for the windows to update. Not sure if I fell asleep or not. What day is it? What was I doing?
I had confidence once back on CorelDraw that CCleaner must have removed enough to save the artwork. I tried – it didn’t work. I screamed, wailed, spat & cried. My language was a bit crude. I lost all the photographs when CorelDraw froze again! I did cry this time!
Then, yet another cock-up was made! I seem to be becoming an expert on these.
Amazon sent me an email stating that the £149 wheelchair, which had received adverse reports, had been cancelled. I promptly placed an order for one of the £184 models with handbrakes on the handles for the Carer or pusher, but with self-propelling wheels. I was thrilled that I might be able to get out and about on my own.
I realised that I had not checked the comments on this model, so I did. They were a replica of the comments on the £149 model???
But it had been a terrible day for me, and I was getting more and more tired and sleepy now, after suffering enough problems, Whoopsiedangleplops and frustrations to last me over the last few days for the rest of my life. Well, maybe. I’m still far behind with blogging than I’ve ever been. I frustratedly gave up on the computer and got my overdue Ablutions done. The seat marks under my arm had worsened significantly overnight. I’ll ask the Carer to use the barrier cream and remind them to remove all traces of the old cream, then clean the area with baby wipes. This is only if I remember to ask whoever comes. As ‘Forgetters go!’, I think I deserve an award for my sheer dogged persistence, regularity, & stupidity.
I almost had myself over when I washed my feet in disinfectant in the bowl while shaving, getting only one cut! It did bleed a bit, mind you. I foolishly decided to get a short-sleeved black kagoule hand-washed and rinsed, then hung it up in the wet room to dry on the shower curtain rail. As I turned to leave the room… I shoulder-charged the door edge. Which set off on one of her vicious attempts to dislodge the ball from the socket! Not that this actually surprised or upset me, it was just another cog, pain and annoyance on my way to total insanity. I’m not ready for considering suicide yet, cause I still have dreams of someone assassinating Starmer; I’d hate to miss that, and it would give a little lift, and laugh. I’ve paid for my funeral. I told the Carer where the details are. Not that I’m in any rush. Oh no, but if things carry on as they are… well!
I’m assuming that I had a seizure. I came back and was mopping the kitchen floor with the speed mop. The storage trolley was out of position, I’d moved food from a cupboard onto the floor near the radiator, and opened both windows. I’d been busy during my ictus? No one has explained to me how this can be so. Impossible to happen, surely?
Now this had happened before. If I recall rightly, it was the same as last time. The recovery and confusion were far less than having had an ‘ordinary’ seizure when all I apparently did was say, according to the Carers who were with me at the time: Sometimes with open eyes, others with them closed, but always with jerks, shaking and a mumbling of incoherent short words. Joeonce wrote down what I was babbling about in short outbursts; Urghum, Worramum, ehereherehu and No, no. With different expressions for each so-called word?
But how can I do things like moving things, and mop a floor? Mind you, I made a mess of that and had to clean it again this time.
And what happened to my feeling of being so drained?
Why should I do it at this time of night, let alone during a seizure? How? Why? Thankfully, these don’t occur very often… Ah! Perhaps there is a connection to my feeling of being so tired? Nae!
I keep getting myself off track tonight. But the need of food arose. I looked in the fridge to see what was available for dining on. The photo above reveals two outdated food items that I had to discard. The pastie on the right was use-by 19th Aug. Whatever it was inside that had gone mouldy and showing through the pastry and bag was mysterious enough. But then, why did I buy them in the first place? My tiredness returned.
I decided, after seeing what was not available to eat, to opt for frozen chip shop chips, tomatoes, and two defrosted cheesy-topped no-butter buttered bread rolls, along with some cheap £1-a-packet ham slices, which were well within their use-by date, 8th September. Worryingly, the highest ingredient listed was water.
However, they were a success (Not the meat, but the tomatoes, bread and chips were lovely).
There’s a chance of a miracle having taken place here. I cannot remember seeing the moon while I was in bed. Sometimes I see the hue coming through the tatty, thin curtains. I’ve been known to scramble out of bed to take a shot of it. I’m sure I didn’t tonight… well, as sure of anything I can ever be sure of. But that’s not saying much, is it? This snap was so beautiful, I’d have thought I’d remember taking it. It’s Sunday evening as I write this. I’m now over two blogs behind. I think. I’m waffling on, and still have Sundays to start, and 30 templates to make up.
I’ll do a quickie for Sunday. Just the top graphics, CorelDraw permitting.
An Ode, hopefully.
And a photo or two…
I should get it done by Christmasish. Haha!.
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
Random things that can yet, or did, make me happy…
From memory, diaries, and some even theoretically,
At 14, a Lady of forty took my cherry,
Which I loved, but why? It confused me,
Which life has done, ever since, diurnally,
Later, developing a natural negativity,
Cynicism, defeatism, and despondency,
This helped me cope with life’s adversity,
At birth, Mother said, ‘Throw it away’,
Life would have been a little shorter…
but have gone less problematically,
Am I losing the plot of the faux-poetry?
No, it’s just my affected memory…
In old age, my teeth are rotting away…
Diabetes Don, Anne Gyna, Cartalige Chloe,
Duodenal Donald, Toothache Tiffany,
Premorbid Cognitive Impairment Peggy,
Myoclonic-Seizures-Sid, Peripheral Neuropathy,
Inchy’s Fungal Lesion, & Lymphorrhea Leslie,
Méniere’s disease, Episodic-Ataxia-Ellie,
Harold’s Haemorrhoids, Eric’s Eczema,
Premorbid Cognitive Impairment, mentally,
Earache Eric, Whoopsiedangleploppery,
Herings aids, both needing a battery,
Ingrowing toenails; Unguis Incarnate Nelly,
Mechanic Ticker Trevor and Reflux Valve Rene,
Newly-diagnosed Hydrocephalus-Harry,
They don’t overbother me, individually,
For they are all a part of me, intrinsically…
Even when affecting me painfully or cripplingly,
Coping with a warped brain & disabled body,
Getting through each day makes me happy,
Another secret, to help you feel less crappy,
Concentrate on hexing Starmer (the Iffy),
His soundbites on isonomy prove his inanity,
He rules crappily, but has got inexpugnability,
Taking backhaners from the Oligarchy,
No one can deny his lies & criminality,
I pray for a political solution, philosophically,
We can do nothing legally curatively,
I’m only thinking this whimsically…
I’m hoping he dies painfully…
very slowly and in utter agony,
Tomorrow perhaps? Hopefully,
That’d make me overjoyedly happy!
TODAY’S COCK-UPS
I tell you now of my discontent, Why is my life so abhorrent?
Whoopsiedangleplops Accifauxpa torrent,
Unsolvable Problems & ailments,
The computer, now an inconvenience!
No help from anywhere,
Its memory is now bare,
Tonight, CorelDraw died,
My depression cannot be denied,
I managed to save some graphics & photos,
Got old ones, I’ll have to use those,
Struggling with this Odes prose,
Made an order by mistake on Amazon.
Tried to cancel it, reply waited on,
Already got my lowest ever bank balance,
Find a Solution? I haven’t had a chance!
Will it let me update this blog? I’m not yet sure,
All my problems, not one cure!
I feared being forced into an old folks’ home,
At this moment, I realise that I’d not be alone,
Financially, physically, and mentally sick!
In the morning, I woke up in a seizure,
And then came the morning Carer,
Of which there is little I can remember,
It may be the end of my blogging,
I don’t know yet if this blog will be saved,
But after all my work in creating…
If not, it’s going to be so gauling,
I’m hoping that CorelDraw will be loading,
Not confident, just hoping,
The wheelchair ordered is self-propelling,
The standard one, I got it four weeks ago,
But no Carer has taken out, though,
When I get paid for the self-propeller,
And get it inspected by a Carer,
I can get out and feel freer,
But what I do now fear,
By the time it’s checked & inspected,
I might be too old to use it, well dated!
Still no appointment made for the Audio Clinic,
No delivery of the Diabetic osenitic,
I’m feeling so depressed and sick! – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – Up 05:55hrs. Urine was a 5 on the Richter scale.
Views taken from the balcony End car park. Towards Mansfield Road Towards the park Left, front car park & flat balconies
Had a bit of a mini seizure that lasted seconds, I thought. That’s a guesstimate. After the seizure, a little out of it, I made a mug of Detox tea and tended to my ablutions. Then shelled some garden peas to nibble cold and add to the planned stew tonight.
To the intercom to let in Carer Ejaz. Who did a fair job for me this morning? Diabetic socks were put on. Medications were given.
I started to do the blog. I noticed I’d not changed the date on the clock. Got a mug of proper tea, and the peas to nibble. Seeing that I had still not changed the date on the clock. So, I did!
Started to update yesterday’s blog. I got into it and felt the catheter bag drop; the urine pouch was full to the brim, and the weight of the bag tugged the tube in little Inchy. I believe I may just have used some naughty language. Just look at the amount of urine that came out. The bag is a 200ml one, but the jug indicates it is 400ml. No wonder it felt down.
I got a call to say that an ambulance was on its way to see me. No idea why?
Sister Jane rang me. It was hard work without the hearing aids. I’d been trying to book an appointment for 4 weeks with the Carers. But no joy. I moaned a little about things to her. And she moaned back about her problems. Hehehe! And told me off, of course.
The intercom chimed. The chap came in with an electric scooter. I thought at first it was a Red Cross man bribing it for me – what a clot! It was a Carer, Ahbul. I showed him the wheelchair on the balcony and moaned that no Carer had taken me out on it yet; in fact, it hadn’t been fully erected and checked for safety yet. The lad departed, and I’d been talking (I talk a lot nowadays, mainly to myself and my alter ego, Inchie) about the wheelchair. I went on the balcony and checked out the disabled machines. The four-whelled walker. The new wheelchair, unused to date. Fitted a cushion on it. Searched around with the aid of the impractical, worthless manual, which had such tiny printing that it was really of no value. At least the cushion fitted. I found where the passenger brakes were and tried them. Crude tinny metal, but they worked. Then had an in-depth, almost pointless perusal of the mwinenace/instruction manual. I think it might have been for the wrong model. As you can see in the photo I took, this is for a self-propelled model with large wheels. This model has tiny wheels.
However, the thought of having a self-propelled one and the advantage of not needing an expensive Carer to push me means I perhaps could get to the Social Room in the other block of flats, Winwood Court, and have a chat with others. Maybe, perhaps, possibly. Or not. There’s bound ot be a difficulty in getting one on the NHS, but I felt one would benefit me.
So, I went to the Amazon site to investigate.
The prices ranged from £69 for a child. Up to £3,999 for a Sports Model. The ones that caught my eye were those with pad-cusions for the back of the legs, which was the first criterion I adopted. Many of them had a strap across the front of the frame. These pads claim to be better for people with diabetes. So, I went through all 44 pages of what I searched for: self-propelled wheelchairs with brakes at the front and back. (Leg pads in brackets)
Five at £184, one at £148. The £184 ones all looked the same model. The £148 did not have handbrakes for the pusher. This was the only difference that I could find. Then, I checked the comments about the £148. Not good. 2.5 rating overall. I was going to check the comments for the £184 one, but Carer Nizra arrived and I forgot all about checking.
Then the mobile rang. The £35-a-bash toenail cutter was on its way up to me.
When I got back on the computer, I found that I’d ordered the £148 wheelchair. Nobody told me… except Amazon, in an email. I went to Amazon to cancel the order. The message said, ‘We will try to cancel it, let you know, and advise you.
The gal got my nails cut, and we managed a little chat and a laugh. Look at the time already! A fantastic site, no, sight!
Off to the Porcelain Throne. Trotsky Terence led the session, but not as dominantly this time.
When I got back in the front room, I was pretty ashamed of the mess in there.
I made up the meal for later on, one of my off-the-cuff stews, or whatever they should be called. Masses of garden peas, other vegetables, chopped some water chestnuts into it, and added Bovril. I had some bread left over that wasn’t too hard for dipping.
Turned off the computer and had only put on today’s cartoon. So far behind again.
CALAMIY, FEAR, MORE DEPRESSION DARIUS! I couldn’t save the work I’d done in CorelDraw.
Not enough memory available!
I went to make a brew to help me think through my options available to rescue things.
Despite my morseness, I still took these snaps of the view from the kitchen window. Not even knowing if I can use them or not. Proof that I need help!
As if I didn’t know beforehand already!
The meal came out well.
I went to wash the pots, and yet again, possibly wasted my time taking this last snap. Still, it’s worth it, a bit of nature.
Another day of Depression & Frustration,
Seizures, errors just never lessen,
This should teach me a lesson…
To get mental rest, do I need absolution?
Mistakes, lost words, or an anachronism…
Forgetfulness, confusion, an aphorism,
It’s months since my last cachinnation, Life once livable is now a damnation, Today I felt as if I was forsaken… Of course, I could have been mistaken,
No help, hope, or satisfaction… High Mood Horis was missing in action, So many things, to curse or gurn in reaction, I’m depressed, more than a fraction…
I find life & living, all a guesstimation!
Sorry, I’ve had so little time to get on the WP Reader & Comments. It’s been even busier than usual lately. And I’ve not started writing Saturday’s blog yet.
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – I believe the Labour Party were blindsided,
Being out of power for so long, they became beclouded…
When Fibber Starmer was elected their leader,
They won, mainly because of the Tories’ failure,
Now the position of Prime Minister…
Has been bedarkened, cheapened and lessened,
By Starmer, the liar, the Tory, the Pensioner robber,
Each voter is becoming a revenge seeker,
Giving out sound bites about his plans from the ether,
He’s fibbed, turncoated, and been well back-handed,
In such a short time, the UK, Keir’s buggered,
He reckons he’s done no wrong as Prime Minister,
Reeves courted WASPI women, pretending to be a supporter,
After 14 ruinous years of austerity ruination… Keir, imposing more austerity and cutbacks, with the confidence of a madman,
Starmer’s dodgy donors bought him footy tickets & freebies,
Pretty dresses for his wife, Keir accepting free spectacles,
Lobbing cash at his cabinet of Labour-right ghouls,
Churn out legislation that’s favourable to his dodgy donors’,
It’s a quid pro quo, and he got caught red-handed,
No prosecution, his lying was not disrupted…
His bravado was not disrupted or interrupted,
Labour got in by default, as the Tories imploded,
Jeremy Corbyn now as a frothing Nazi shithead,
Doom-mongering, at the start of a five-year Labour mega-majority, was yet another whopping blunder,
He dented confidence; said things would get worser,
Was he a deceiver, hoodwinker? He was a Barrister!
A kind description would be a moral short-changer,
Or a deluder, deceiver, a fraud, cheater,
Letting right-wing Streeting run the NHS is a disaster,
Starmer’s seen both the Labour government’s, as his own personal approval ratings collapse through the floor, into the sewer,
He insists all he’s done is right, not wrong. What a plonker!
Keir is smug, complacent, and incapable of self-reflection,
Somehow, he avoids being assassinated, even prosecution?
So, why not lock away this illywacker?
In an asylum, to guarantee his own safekeeping?
There’s no Pensioners indoors for robbing…
Family farmers or parents for bankrupting,
It would, of course, be ideal for suiciding,
Taking that route, he’ll not be deciding…, Give him a twice-daily cold shower,
In between, a daily testicle-tasering?
Hehehe! I bet that got you smiling?
A guillotine, hanging? But, maybe poisoning…
But killing anyone, I’m not recommending…
I’m just living in hope, suppositioning,
Finally, my last words on Keir in this Odeing…
I find him dishonest, smug, Tory-like & disconcerting…
Thinking of him while I’m Odeing is excruciating! – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – 04:00hrs: I stirred from my broken piecemeal slumber. The second I moved, Cartilage Chloe had my number, first pain, then it went numb, repeating this action until 4 hours later, when I finally got my pain killers, Codeine from Carer Ejaz. That saw off Catrtilage Chloe’s pain problem. Shame it didn’t stop her from threatening throughout the day and then collapsing. She had wobbled a few times, but I stayed on my feet despite her birthday ruining efforts.
Once I dismounted from the bed, I started a few hours of unexpected industriousness. I whipped off the nocturnal catheter bag, leaving it on the £300 second-hand shop-bought, c1966 moth-eaten, bedraggled, grotty, cringingly-beige-coloured, dirty, blood-stains-covered, much dilapidated, crumb-containing from early evening nibblings, bug-ridden, itch-inspiring, Harold Haemorrhoid annoying, not working recliner. For The Carer to colour-grade for me. There was no stopping me then… I was up for it, with occasions, for no reason made the odd, but short, early morning visit! I put the kettle on to make my morning mug of Detox tea, and wobbled off to the wet room, nearly falling over my own walking stick as I entered the room. Without the usual self-lambasting and calling myself names. I believe I did not swear either. Yes! The evacuated product was a deep red, slushy substance. I think it may have been through me eating some vegetable pickle and a lot of beetroot yesterday.
I think I did well with the shaving and the scrubbing up this morning. Fair enough, there were three shaving cuts, but they were no bother. The Brut aftershave soon stemmed the bleeding. Obviously, the usual gums and teeth bled, but this new toothpaste does seem to be less painful to use overall. Olive oiled the earholes, eyedrops put in the eyes… well, some of it, about 50% of it ran down my cheek and into my mouth, to join the blood and Duraphat in there. Haha! The lower regions’ medicalisationings was, as usual, painful. The removal of the barrier cream from last night, from my man breasts and hanging belly blob, was of little or no bother. However, I have now been instructed to use baby wipes to clean the area around the previous medications, as well as the before applying the barrier cream, and/or when trying to apply the hydrochloride cream to Little Inchies’ fungal lesion. So, you can see why I have to get up so early every day, with all the tasks that need to be done daily. Worra-Life!
All done, struggled a tad with getting the PPs (protection pants) on. Dressing gown on, and I went back to the front room. Taking this shot from the balcony of the end car park. The dog walker’s two dogs couldn’t resist having a pee on the wheels of the little red car parked on the chevrons. (Police dogs? Haha!)
I then sorted the bags into a large one and drank the Detox tea, sipping it as instructed. Then I was summoned back to the Porcelain Throne again. Just the same, watery and deep red. When it started to flow, I could hear it hitting the water below, even without my hearing aids. It honestly flowed for at least two minutes before turning into a dribble, followed by a slow, megafart. I laughed out loud!
I washed my hands and went to the kitchenette to get the kettle on for the first ‘proper’ brew of Typhoo Extra Strong tea, and nice it was, too. Then I took these two shots, through the glass, one to the left and the other to the right. Rain!
Carer Nimra did the next call. Then, at long last, I got started on catching up on the blog. Hahaha! And I have to say that never happened!
FED-UP? ME? YES! CorelDraw, Memory problems, and I’ve just found out that the instruction/maintenance booklet for the wheelchair is for another model with self-propelling large wheels. FED-UP? ME? YES!
It’s already 15:00 hrs on Friday. I’ll have to skip the rest of the blog; I’ll add the photos if the computer allows me. Here goes…
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – I read this with a certain ambivalence,
For my brain’s gained degree of avirulence,
My brain shows truculence in defiance…
My brain returns only ululants,
I believe he’s after aggrandisements,
Praise, thanks; hence his truculence?
But he can’t be blamed for being impercipient,
For his world is baron of jouissance,
Yet, he copes with my verbal-absonance! – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – Straight into it, I’m so far behind with this blog: It is Thursday morning now, 08:054hrs, only just kicking off from here. Forgive any cock-ups chronologically or grammatically. I was so busy again. I may miss bits off to try and get caught up. Because Thursday (today) I’ve a nurse calling. Social Worker, Window cleaner, four Carer Visits, four deliveries, Vyne with catheter equipment, HRG with medicational aids, and I anticipate that hundreds of callers will wish me a Happy Birthday. Nurse Hristina has sent me a birthday card! It’s so precious… I hope to beat last year’s grand total of three cards. Hahaha! I didn’t. Which makes this one even more beloved. – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – Up at 05:50hrs. Urine a 5. Three trips to the Porcelain Throne in the first hour. All Trotsky Terence affairs. I blame my eating that vegetable pickle, you know. Chanfed the calendar and made a brew of Extra Strong Typhoo tea.
Ablutions sorted, waste bins sorted, and I moved the Catheter Contraption onto the right leg. Painful! New top strap needed.
Took a snap from the kitchenette window of the doom-looking sky. I found the cloud variations appealing. Great!
The JS food order arrived… The deliveryman took the bags through to the kitchen for me. That was kind of him. Thanks!
Seeks that I must have ordered a Chinese chicken and red rice ready microwave meal. Or did I? I’m not even keen on it?
I also must have ordered Vibe batter-coated potato slices. Fresh pod peas and shelled peas. Chessy-topped bread rolls, tomatoes, and beer-battered, thrice-fried chips?
Finally got onto the computer. Not that I got much done, so busy, as you will read below.
Carer Ejaz arrived. Body checks, barrier creaming, Phor[ain gelled Cartilage Chloe, & medications were given. We searched and eventually found a Catheter-Top band. Ejaz ordered some more for me.
Matron Jackie arrived. Check up my rear-end. The goulies area was the only concern. The fungal lesion looked dodgy. She said The ankles and legs. Suggested I ask the Carers to clean the lower regions. This didn’t go down well. The female carers would probably make me laugh too much!
11:00hrs: I made a belated mug of Detox tea. Steep in boiling water for 30 minutes. Two hours later… I remembered it.
Balcony shot taken through the glass of the end car park. No red car on the chevrons.
Then a community nurse called on me. Many things were discussed, but I can’t recall what. No! I was puzzled, cause I’d not had a seizure as I knew of.
Carer Ejaz arrived for the longer visit. He took down the laundry to put it in the machine first.
Bit of fun here. When the sun came out, I took this shot from the computer chair. Later, when I got it from the SD card, I rotated it the wrong way, and this was photo A. The fun to me was that I didn’t realise until I came to put it in. Looking at them, both could have the one. Hehe!
Ejaz returned, and we discussed the problem that I had been trying to resolve for four weeks at the Audio Centre, but nothing had changed or happened. After he called the Carer’s office, he said they may ring for us, and he will let them know when it is.
We’ll see what happens on this one.
Ejaz went down to move the clothes into the dryer. He had to wait for one to be free. While he was out, I used CorelDraw to create the top graphics.
A Social Lady called on the Landline. I couldn’t hear everything she was saying, and I explained the problem with the hearing aids getting repaired.
Ejaz came back up and mopped the kitchen for me.
I got back to CorelDraw… Oh, dearie me. More problems to make me even further behind than ever!
I waited for the control device to complete its task, whether checking or changing.
Ejaz checked the dates on the fresh foods. Two out-of-date. Then he went down to collect the washing from the dryer.
I was already shattered physically, and now mentally. The mental problems come when difficulties are recognised as not solvable with the amount of help I’m getting. Then the mind torments itself with thoughts of insurmountable worries.
Since Carer Joe left, no one has taken any action with the correspondence; letters are scattered all over the place. They open the odd one now and then, but the two big file boxes under the Carer’s table have not been added to since Joe left the job
The DVT Warfarin Lobotomy nurse arrived. She handed me a birthday card from Nurse Hristina, which was for the next day. 🤎 (Today). Lovely lady. Then took two samples of blood. Bless her! 🤎
Ten minutes later…
Carer Nimra gave me the evening medications, and then came right back up again. I managed to get to the waste bin in time.
I was so weary again, I made a meal with a lot of beetroots. I thought I’d taken a photo of it, but there were photos of it on the internal or SD card.
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
Parts of this Ode may reveal emotion,
Inchie wrote it as a sort of antidepression,
It didn’t work, but it gave him indigestion,
I expect he’ll lose concentration & attention,
He apologises for bits that underwent abscission,
And those that he missed from inclusion,
And his concentrations lack of addression,
Nowadays, he struggles to master delineation,
He searches for a cure-all, a diacatholicon…
Hoping he may retrieve his moyo, that’s long gone,
His nousse used to be like a mental dzong-jong,
Defending against disagreement and dissension,
He seeks not gold, fame, fortune or Zircon…
But fears his medications may bring zombification,
Scared that his dementia will create vilification,
No confidence left, he touches would for unberufen,
He recalls that his life has never been utopian…
Aware his thoughts, body, & brain don’t work in verbatim,
Lost his desires, he’s become an anythingarian,
Prays, hopes, pleads, begs; as a futilitarian,
His ageing body and brain have no synchronisation,
His understanding shows significant misinterpretation,
What he gleans usually includes jealousy & effluvium,
His own thoughts need elucidation or interpretation,
Yet, taking in all the considerations…
Along with his countless medications…
He knows this world is totally free of perfectibilians,
Oligarchs claim to be, and there are millions,
Inchie finds it easier to mix with the minions,
He gives his ailments a twice-daily examination,
A daily battle, vs confusing seizures & depression…
I think he’s hoping that life is just an illusion. – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – I woke up later than I have done this year. It was 06:55hrs! No time to get my ablutions done before a Carer was likely to arrive. Still, I lay there and nodded off again. Waking at 07:15hrs, cursing, and forcing myself out of bed, most reluctantly and disinterestedly than I have ever been on any morning before. I bent down to take off the nocturnal bag and found it wasn’t on. But the much smaller day pouch was bloated, and once I moved, it was painful. Some foul language was emitted.
I plodded into the kitchen and got the Detox bag in a mug, awaiting the water in the kettle to boil. Then I steeped the bag. This type needed a 30-minute steep. So, I took the chance and visited the Porcelain Throne. Another Trotsky Terence torrent followed. Messily!
I took some morning shots: Three red cars this morning. Sky shot to the north. Then to the South East. I took them within a minute of each other, and I could see how the colouring had changed so quickly.
Carer Ejaz arrived. Did a good job for me. Medications. He antispeticated the eankles for me, then fitted my diabetic socks. A quick body check and some barrier creaming. And the lad was ready to go, but not before I took a photo of him for this blog. He posed like a professional model! Handsome bute! Oh, and Ejaz took a snap of the much better-looking healing ankles.
Within half an hour of turning on the computer, an immediate problem with CorelDraw arose, followed by the arrival of the Iceland order. The driver took the bags through to the kitchenette for me. Two items for the freezer. Chip Shop Chips and a ready meal. Can you guess what the frozen meal was by looking at this snap? Some food for the fridge. Then the tea cupboard. I won’t have time to do it right now, but I hope to separate all the different tea bags and put them in containers. A big job now. I’ve got Ty-Phoo extra strong tea bags, Ty-Phoo ordinary, and Tetley Extra Strong, late in the week. I have some cheap tea bags coming. It’s going to be a big job; I might not have enough room in the cupboard. I got rather carried away yet again. I made a mug of proper tea and got back to the CorelDraw programme.
MYSTERY I was resetting some default settings, and it was as if I’d blinked. I’d obviously been making error after error with CoralDraw, but don’t think it was seizure after effect, cause I might have been suffering with a loss of balance, but was clear-headed enough to realise vaguely that I may have had an order from Iceland. Yet the only thing I recall was struggling to get the tea into the cupboard; nothing else about the delivery. Yet I’d written it on the notepad?
THEN ANOTHER LONG SEIZURE During which, as far as I could tell, I did absolutely nothing. After this, it was a guesstimate – about an hour. I came back into reality, sat on the four-wheeled walker on the balcony, with the sun shining in my eyes and making me virtually blind. Glady Glaucoma does not like sunshine. It took me a long time to get my vision back to near normal. But this time, no severe loss of balance. A Carer thinks there must be different things causing different seizures. It could, I suppose, be FND, Peripheral Neuropathy, Dementia Doreen, or something new?
Better get a meal started. Frozen meal, beef in black sauce, with added Lung Po and Mixed Vegetable pickle, and Marmite stirred in before cooking. Then some Chip Shop Chips were done in the oven and added. I may not try this again. Wednesday saw five trips to the Porcelain Throne, with me being late on the third visit.
Lovely evening shot from the kitchen window. The sun had just vanished from the horizon.
I consulted Google AI earlier.
About the mystery blank I had.
This was AI’s reply.
Transient Global Amnesia (TGA): A temporary condition involving sudden memory loss and confusion, or another serious issue like a head injury, stroke, or seizure. It is crucial to consult a healthcare professional to determine the cause and receive appropriate treatment. So, I did. I got an appointment at the Doctor’s in five weeks. Crucial? Did Google AI fib?
Or, the Doctor ignore me?
No treatment was offered.
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – A new invention, a creation of Inchies’ first ever attempt at launching his mind-boggling ‘Off-Track-Semi-Ode-Ode’.
A Pioneering, but rudimentary, bound-to-fail jobbie. The idiot came out from a nocturnal seizure last night, with the idea of mixing an Ode, with his usual losing track of the theme, putting a load of waffle in between his lines of terrible rhyming and plot.
He anticipates this will turn out as a labyrinth of unsophisticated, hard-to-interpret, hogwash and buncome. Added legitimised, characterise notorisations & apologises between verses, in an effort to further syllogise and maybe psychologise the end product. He realises this is doomed to failure; he knew it in the early hours of this morning, even when he was recovering from the seizure at 02:10hrs, as he came back to mock life. Decided the whole concept was rubbish. Then, at 15:30hrs, Premorbid Cognitive Impairment Iris rebirthed the idea in his cerebrum. Now the silly old sausage (not hostage) is going to give it a go. I warned him, but he never listens to me. Another tooth was broken today; it’s his own fault for eating nuts! – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – The flat in which I live reminds me of San Quentin, The bare balcony, partly hidden by a thin, tattered curtain,
The windows are filthy, the window cleaners have absconded,
My cleaning them had to be abandoned…
My fitness and alertness, that once abounded…
Mental & physical problems are constantly added. It’s being contained within the flat that gets to me. Not able to meander over to the tree cops for a chat with the animals and trees. No visiting the ponds to feed and natter with the ducks and pigeons. These pleasures have gone, along with the abilities to get to them. I had to go down to the ground floor lobby three times this week – What a pleasure! Although the ailments didn’t agree, namely, Arthur Itis, Cartilage Chloe, and Anne Gyna, during the Wednesday farce with the laundry not getting dried, you can add Duodenal Donald. It took me five hours to get the laundry done, and that was after the Carer had gone. From the moment I got in the lift. Having already paid for the laundry to be done. Donald played me up for two more days. Of course, had this happened a few years ago, when the NHS prescribed Aludrox SA medication, it would not have been a problem. This ulcer medication was A1, great, so effective. But HMG is cutting costs, and the result? I get prescribed an over-the-counter Peptac medication, which adds to the long list and line of reasons for Dark, Dank, Depression Darius having such a heyday nowadays.
Bohemianism, with its unconformity, unorthodoxy…
Which bodes unfamiliarity, out & out novelty,
Dictatorship, Communist, or Starmers Oligarchy?
None of these is working as far as I can see,
Not one of them is interested in antipoverty…
Herr Starmer’s HMG acting openly asininely,
Plainly ruling corruptly, unethically, & fraudulently,
Achieving nothing but Keir’s soundbites aplenty,
I’d be content if the git died next Wednesday, I wasn’t too keen on Blair’s lies, but they weren’t openly recognisable at first. Starmer burst on the scene, freebie & backhander seeking. Grumpy Brown, the do-nothing leader. I didn’t like that bleeder. Starmer led Labour to a landslide victory at the 2024 general election, ending fourteen years of Conservative government with the SMALLEST vote share of any majority government since record-keeping began in 1830. But does this sink into the over-confident, smug, incapable, lying, two-faced Labour Party Principles ignoring Starmer? No, of course it doesn’t. I can’t understand why he has not been assassinated yet. I can dream… then again, who is going to get in power; if I’m lucky and he resigns, gets thrown out by his own cabinet, commits suicide or gets his head blown off; the last option would be best. Cause he’s so conceited, and a bloody good barrister, his lying style proved this; He’d probably sue them.
Well, Ajaz has just finished his teatime call,
I need more help, and that’s apodictical,
Apprehensible, perceptible, clearly palpable,
But will I get any? Will I be able?
Sod it, I’ve just banged Cartilage Chloe on the table!
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – I spent so long on the Ode, I’ll have to cut this short.
Up at 05:00hrs. Urine pouch is a decent 4 on the scale card. Made a mug of Detox tea, the cheap kind that requires cold water, so it can only taste better if it’s over-steeped.And I left for 35 minutes. Then off to the wet room to get the tended to. Got myself seated on the plastic WC, and instantly Trotsky Terence released not any torpedoes like Constipation Konrad would, but his usual sticky but soft spatterings all over the porcelain. I didn’t have any deposits on my body this time.
Rushed through doing the teeth, shaving (3 cuts), body washing, and all the usual medications went reasonably well. Just Cartilage Chloe was any bother.
I pondered whether the bed needed tidying up. It didn’t. I collected my dressing gown and went to get the Detox tea to sip. I spent about ten minutes tidying up in the kitchen.
Then I limped through the doors and onto the balcony to take some morning shots. Starting with directly below and to my left. I took these through the glass, the dirty glass, which wasn’t a good idea on reflection. Then, I had to pop back to the . Same mode as the first one. But this was half expected, given all the pickles and vegetables in last night’s stew. However, there was just one more visit to come today, about 18:00hrs, same again.
I then finished the tea that I’d forgotten about. I think I may be a bit of a twit in believing this might help me lose weight. But you never know! Well…
I belatedly changed the battery clock and calendar, and made a mug of proper tea. I used two of the Tetley Extra Strong one-cup ones.
I got the Health Checks started. The BP was slightly elevated on both checks today. But the blood & urine were fine.
Carer Ejaz arrived and did a good job this morning. I explained to him the importance of the new socks not getting screwed up when put in the washing machine, and showed him the L & R to identify which foot each should go on. Also, could he please check after drying, so that the L & R will be visible? The nurse said that after she called, it is crucial to get them right, as they are weighted in the correct places. If I get them on the wrong foot, the rough skin will get pulled in the wrong direction and can come off, causing worse leakages.
I had some problems with CorelDraw again.
The nurse called. I do like her. She explains things so well to me, as with the socks earlier. She checked my rear end and advised me to continue applying the barrier cream, even if it doesn’t feel sore. So. I will. I try to grasp all she tells me. Bless her. 🤎 I mentioned the diaper pants costing more now, and she was amazed that they didn’t supply them for free! She will look into it to see if she can get them on prescription for me. 🤎
When she asked if I had a sugar level tester, I mistakenly thought she meant the machine I have that takes readings from the finger. She is going to ask if she can order some of the needles and the kit for me. 🤎 She took a look at the legs and removed the plasters, telling me they are clear now. 🤎 She said she will ask about the diabetic socks and will come later in the week to measure my legs, so they know which size to order for me.🤎 What a treasure!
Carer Nimra did the noon call. Well, it seems to be 17:30hrs now. Not that it matters. We had a laugh over my new glass frames, and she was off. (Short call this one). I’ll ask a Carer to take a snap of them for me, then you can have a laugh as well. Hehehe!
I had a series of three in half an hour. Each one seemed to have shorter recovery times. I can’t weigh this up. Why?
Got the potatoes in the oven. Baked cheesy potatoes, with Marmite.
Copericus sausage and red, orange and brown Isle of Man-grown tomatoes. Lovely!
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – Who was it that said, hopes immortal?
A mortal? A Saint or someone asteroidal?
Starmer? Read 1 Timothy 6:16 in the bible?
As we’re all mortal, it sounds antagonistical,
But things in the world are now so unalterable,
We may yet invent a time machine, or portal,
One that can travel forward & be reversible?
Oligarchs would sell it to the coercible,
Do you think the possibility is apprehensible?
Anyone using one must be cautious and sensible…
Changing the past – the future changes, it’s inevitable
Does it work going forward? Yes, in things medicable,
Diseases: no longer repairable or rectifiable,
But will the end of the world be avoidable?
Will Starmer becoming PM be preventable?
If so, UK citizens will find that astronomical! – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
MORNING THOUGHTS IN ODE
After last night’s sleeping faux pas & farces, I need a dentist, neurologist or Adventist? More Carers for longer, whatever this costs. I’ll do without food, electricity, or sex, Each day I wonder what calamity will come next, Did I sin in a past life? Or have I been hexed? Mental parasites, my cerebrum they infest, Yet still I feel that I’ve been blessed… Nurse Wilhemena came with her massive chest! o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o
I didn’t get out of bed this morning; I did that last night. Stubbed my toe, got to the Porcelain Throne too late, again. All in all, as it happened, weighing it all up, the day was well up there at the very close to the top of the league of Whoopsiedangleplops. But the night outshone, and shamed Saturday day. I can’t think of anything that went right. Something must have…
At least I managed to get the Ablutionalisationing and Medicationing done before the Carer arrived. That was because he was a little late, given it was Sunday and there were so few buses running. I realised there was little time to get a good job done, so I skipped washing my feet. And in my haste, I forgot to clean my teeth; I did them later when I realised. The shaving produced several minuscule nicks around the back of the neck and a corker on my cheek. I’d better add that it was the cheek on my face. Just to avoid any confusion. Hehehe!
Later, a few minutes later, Carer Ejaz arrived. Graded the pouch as a 4 on the NHS scale. Issued the medications and antisepticated the rough skin on my lymph nodes on my legs. Got the diabetic socks on. Thanked him & wished him well, and off he shot. Whooosh! No problem with that, he had to dash to catch a rare Sunday bus, bless him.
I paid Porcelain Throne another visit. Still controlled my Trotsky Terence, but I didn’t get caught out this time.
I made a mug of Detox tea. The expensive one that uses boiling water to steep it in. Fifteen minutes later, I removed the bag, and as it says on the bag, “Do not gulp this tea, sip it.” So, I did.
I then got yesterday’s Khagoule hand-washed in the kitchen sink. Midway through the rinsing of the shirt, I knew that a seizure was coming on; I felt it, but I cannot say precisely how, but I was aware of it on its way. I got into the front room before it came and got seated. I wasn’t aware of entering a never-never land, but that’s precisely what happened as soon as I returned and became semi-aware that reality was back. Dizziness and lack of balance kept me sitting down for a few minutes, and I attempted to have a poddle around. Greattt! Not too bad at all. Usually, the short seizure after effects are more substantial than the long ones, but this one was a good recovery. I went into the kitchen, cause I remembered what I was doing, and the water in the bowl was stone cold. Then, it dawned on me that I must have been out of it for a long time, without realising it.
I got the khagoul rung out and hung it up on the shower rail in the wet room.
I got a text message from Amazon. I couldn’t press the ‘Press to Reply or talk’ button on the screen because my phone didn’t have internet. I thought maybe they had arrived with the Diabetic socks and left them in the foyer. I went down to investigate. Nothing in the lobby.
I pottered in the laundry room. While I was there, I put my hand in the dryer that caused all the Thursday pandemonium; it felt warm, so I assume it’s been mended again. Fifteen minutes later, a driver arrived at the front lobby door. He had the socls along with a few items for other flats. He came up in the lift with me, and I returned to my call. No, flat! I opened the box of socks. Realising they have an L & R sewn into each pair.
How much do you bet that a Carer will leave on in the washer on his first visit with the new worn socks?
OH, DEAR!
More time is lost while using CorelDRAW. Then the door chime chimed out, and in came Carer Mizra. I realised then that the seizure had to have lasted for at least three hours. I haven’t had one that long in weeks, if not months. But the after effects were minimal and short-lived. I’m waffling, sorry.
Well, part of another day lost, following my losing most of the night before! Isn’t life exciting? I told Mizra of the prolonged seizure and the Detox tea. He said he’d look into my problem with my JS Nectar Card later on. Kind of him.
What a concoction I had tonight! Truly a Multinational Meal. Nandos Peri-Pei lemon & herb extra Mild sauce:(Vinegar, Onion Purée (6%), Lemon Purée (4%), Sunflower Seed Oil, Garlic Purée (2.5%), Salt, Spice and Herb Mix (Cayenne Pepper, Paprika, Parsley, African Bird’s Eye Chilli), Stabilisers (Xanthan Gum, Propylene Glycol Alginate), Antioxidants (Ascorbic Acid, Rosemary Extract), Colour (Paprika Extract), Dextrose), Made in the UK. Extra mild Peri-Peri Sauce.
‘Mother’s Recipe’ Pakistani Vegetable pickle: Mixed vegetable pieces, mango, carrot, lime, green chilli, amba, haldar, karonda, kerda, or other seasonal vegetables, brine, edible common salt, acidity regulator (ins260), edible vegetable oil, spices, condiments, asafetida.. Polish Fresh Garden Peas Local-grown potatoes:
Roasted in the oven, sliced and then added to the mix, with a little Marmite added. Isle of Wight Brown tomatoes
Quartered and added. Bulgarian diced pickled beetroots. Mushrooms & Mushroom Ketchup Can of Romanian Pea Stew Asian Water Chestnuts added. Kung Po Chinese sauce
The whole lot was mixed up and put into the microwave, on high for 8 minutes.
Two Italian cheese-topped bread rolls.
I’m anticipating breaking the record for Porcelain Throne Trotsky Terence visits in any one day, tomorrow. Currently standing at six. I used far too much of the Pakistani vegetable pickle on that meal.
I used half of that quantity this time.
Carer Mizra helped me wash my feet, before he medicated the leg wounds cracka and fissures.
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – ……….., erm, how can I explain? If I am able…
Some of my thoughts don’t seem to be translatable,
I can’t guarantee, or be sure, they are veridical,
Or even my own; does this sound plausible?
Dementia, Cognitive impairment, not only horrible…
But nervous-making, not controllable,
I tried grasping reality; it was not entirely feasible,
Does water on the brain make me mentally drownable?
Some people can be unintentionally smart-aleckal,
Not knowing why yourself can be tenuous, even mythical,
Mental gweilos in the head, that’s not theoretically,
I’d have laughed my head off at the thought, in 1963,
That was another me, no brain-dwellers then, I was free,
Now, I talk to myself, for it must be me, logically…
Begging myself for mental peace or an amnesty,
I find my brain often communicates antagonistically,
Seizures, ailments, just won’t back away…
Sometimes I ask myself, why have the neurosurgery?
I’ve awaited the Glaucoma lasering since 2023,
My rare self-sympathy is so cringeworthy!
1972, the last year I felt anything like Christmassy,
What happened then? Someone shot me in my knee,
Nothing changes, I’ve no Christmas tree,
But shame and guilt, I have aplenty!
If I were a Catholic, I could do a confessionary,
Tell them at thirteen I lost my cherry,
To a 46-year-old neighbour, her name was Sally,
Why, how did I manage it? That’s not a mystery,
The first time viewing of what she showed me!
I was excited, satiated, she laughed at poor little Inchy!
We met weekly, collaboratively,
Something else that bugged me incessantly…
Well, more so now, Earth’s warlike history,
It’s going to happen again, more seriously,
Again, World leaders are showing complacency,
But little clemency, compassion or coherency,
So many more this time are acting bodaciously,
They’ve created a worldwide mamihlapinatapai!
Assuring that if not all, billions will die!
Because politicians are part of the WW narcokleptocracy,
Any input from minions like me is nugatory,
With their parsimonious greed and profligacy…
Oh, I lost the plot of this cacography,
Not unexpectedly, but again, I’m sorry! – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
A quickie today. I got carried away with the day’s Ode.
I rose and did a double back flip off of the bed and over the c1966, £300 Oxfam charity shop-bought, wincingly grotty, beige-coloured, crumb-covered from my nocturnal nibblings, itch-making, uncomfortable, positively unhealthy, and dangerous, no longer operational, virus-breeding, easy-to-fall-out-of, Catheter-tube-trapping recliner, landing perfectly, and yodelled for a few minutes on the balcony. Ahem!
Better colour today.
Carer Ejaz arrived. Medications issued, sock put on. But later found they were not diabetic ones and the leg wounds flared up… or should that be flared up? Carer Mizra changed them on the lunchtime visit for me, back to diabetic ones. Ordered some more later on in the day.
The mini seizures came on earlier today. I got confused after each one, and there were so many again. At times, one after another.
Popped out on the balcony later. Took these snaps.
I took the first of my Detox tea bags this morning. The cheaper ones. They had to be made using cold water. And left for 30 minutes. So I did. Aorted the waste bags out, and paid a messy, slimy, runny Trotsky Terence visit to the Porcelain Throne. Back to get the brew, and squeezed the bag, and it burst open. Bits of seed and grass all over the cooker, me and the floor. I cleaned the mess and investigated the details on the other Detox teabag box. This one is made with boiling water, I needed to steep it for 15-20minutes. It said I could add honey or lemon juice to flavour the drink. So, I did. Lemon The top cheaper ones that exploded were two a day. This one was once a day. Tasted okay with the lemon added to it. Oh, it must be sipped, not drunk.
A later-than-ever start on the blog today. And with the seizures being so furiously rampant, not that they bothered me too much; it was the after effects that put me in a right confused state. However, I pressed on, ever correcting errors, but I think I enjoyed doing it. The Ode took me so long, I thought I might need another shave and shampoo. Hahaha!
I was baffled. Then I realised I might have hit the wrong key combination, which possibly caused this dilemma. The self-hating turned itself on. I waited and waited, but after half an hour, the completion rate had only gone up to 76%. Was I bothered? Of course I was! I sat here at the computer for another ten minutes, and it was still showing as 76%.
I couldn’t, didn’t have the means to turn it off via Windows. Then I think the screen flashed, inverted or wobbled threateningly.
My mechanical heart missed a beat!
I thought I was on the verge of losing my computer. Although something happens every day that makes me think this, this time I was sure it would snuff it – when the % went back down to 55% in an instant. Deepened. Terrible thoughts floated around my head. In there, from somewhere, I got a memory prompt telling me I had not made a will yet?
It was the horriblest feeling of the week. And that’s taking into consideration Tuesday and Wednesday’s soul-destroying events. I didn’t think or expect to have such nightmares again, as soon as this. I was wrong, of course. I made a mug of tea and drank it, brooding over my failures, my own limitations, uselessness and so on.
And the scene went blank, then off. Very slowly and with a jumpy restart, the computer restarted – but only as far as the blue crash screen; with a new system laid out to get the computer restarted.
After losing more hours, I had no choice but to risk turning it off at the plug. I was more scared of making a wrong selection amongst the strange options that were on the screen. So, I did! And with an unexpected lack of fear. I angrily accepted that this is the end of the world-famous blog. My fans from over the globe will be distraught. Both of them.
I left the computer turned off for about 15 minutes and then rebooted it. The old blue start-up screen returned with the known options to select! And Wallah!
The main page came up, and I opened Google. Then, my impending joy was cut short when I opened CorelDraw—it froze!
Carer Mizra called and took the socks off, gave me Peptc and got the nocturnal catheter bag out for me to use later. After the lad had gone (up to now), I have not had another seizure. Great!
I pondered whether or not to bother making a meal. I was tired and more drained than usual. Cooking might be a risk. I decided not to make a meal. Just had a yoghourt and a bag (or two) of Frazzle crisps. I don’t feel terribly hungry anyway.
But so weary, unbelievably so. I made a brew of tea and sat to watch some TV. Nearly 21:00hrs already.
Back in the morning with an update on the event in case anything interesting happens. (As if? Hehehe!)
Two editions of Red Dwarf were just starting on TV. I was so pleased, and got myself into a comfortable position as is possible in the incommodious, uncomfortable, cumbrous, toe-curling, cringe-making, second or third-hand bought from the Oxfam Charity shop, Cathleen-Catheter-Tube-Crushing, hurtful for Harold’s Haemorrhoids, germ-ridden, Horrendously grungy, uncomfortable, not-working recliner… and fell into a deep yet dream-filled sleep. When I stirred, the light from the TV enhanced the shock of doing so, I believed it must be getting up time already… But, No! Red Dwarf began at 21:00hrs, and the credits were rolling for the end of the second episode. So all that dreaming, albeit seemingly restful as well, had lasted for 1 hour and 40 minutes. As I was trying to get back into the land of Morphius, who came calling on me? ! I got the Toothache tincture spray and used it. Tiffany was getting naughty with it, and I took a Codeine 30g as well..
.
I decided to mount the oooospital bed. Climbing into it, while crossing my fingers that nobody telephoned me, took a concerted effort. Why? Cartilage Chloe! The moment I got up to get the tincture to counter Toothache Tiffany, Chloe kicked off distributing her aches and pains, and she’s still at it now – I likely twisted her into action, climbing into the bed. Sunday morning 08:50hrs! Then, by the time I actually got into bed, the task of getting that into a comfortable position was somewhat challenging. Why? Well, it’s complicated, slightly similar to the Labour Government, but not as bad or crooked. I cannot reach the light switch from the bed, so I use a wind-up torch to see the controls on the bed movement panel. But I dropped it and it fell down the gap between the bed and the wall.
Trying to manipulate the controls using the torch was bad enough, but things got worse. I dropped the wired bed control box, and it bounced into the dark depths of under the bed.
I made do with the indulated rippled state of the bed. But could I get to sleep? No! The three main reasons? Toothache Tiffany, Cartilage Chloe and Thought Storming Steve – then, as if to put the cream on the cake, Anne Gyna joined in.
I’d been planning on getting some sleep for about four hours. Two hours in the recliner and two in bed. It was almost a blessing when I had to get up to utilise the . I gave myself a en route. All but tripped over treading on the dropped control panel wire, and arrived at the wet room, only to trip over my walking stick! .
I didn’t get sat down in time!
Had Constipation Conrad been in charge, I’d have missed this pleasure. But, Trotsky Terence returned instead. Splatt! Spray! Soggy mess to clean up.
