Hitler. No, Mussolini. No, Tony Blair. No, Lord Haw-Haw. No, Margaret Thatcher. No, Harold Shipman. No, Xi Jinping, No, Benjamin Netanyahu, Erm…er… His Dad might have been a Toolmaker? – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – I’ve got neurotic problems by the boatload,
Insufficient money to make a billfold,
Glaucoma Gladys is becoming a blindfold,
I’ve got a body that should be in a centrefold,
I’ve a brain that can no longer behold…
The richness of asking or being told,
No longer retains, cannot withhold,
Dropping, walking into things, I could explode,
Hence, I’m writing this little threnode,
I’ve looked for but not found my Motherlode,
Depression, frustration, failure, all incommode…
Often, I feel I can’t cope, period!
It’s driving me back to the amber fluid! – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
So many Whoopsies, Accifauxpas & mistake-ridden, frustrations, failures, worries, Seizures, everyone with a terribly confusing state of mind when I returned to mock reality, neurological problems, and what a rotten day it was. I wrote three full pages of reminders on the notepad, and as I read them this morning, they proved to be of little use. I think if I read and understood the so-called text, I could probably decipher less than 10%! And some of them were partly guessed at. Therefore, some aspects will be mixed up, chronologically out of sync, incorrect, mistaken, or unbelievable. However, I’m so far behind that I’ll have to rush the job, and mistakes are inevitable. Sorry, but I do my best, but I must rush things to be ready for the Matron, JS food delivery, and a call from the Neurological Lady regarding the procedure details. Although that might be happening tomorrow.
I’d been working through last night to catch up on the blogs. Suddenly it was 05:00hrs! I turned off the computer (failing to save the CorelDRAW). And had to leave things and get into the hospital bed. 05:25hrs.
07:15hrs: The intercom rang, and I clawed my way out of bed to the panel and admitted Carer Ejaz.
I was back in bed by the time he arrived at the flat and felt so tired that I just stayed there.
I’m sure I must have been having a nocturnal seizure because of how confused I felt. Not with it at all.
11:00hrs: I shot awake in a bit of a panic. Thinking it was Tuesday, and the JS food delivery was due between 07:00 and 11:00 hours… and I’d missed it!
I got the email on the computer to see if any message had been left for me from JS. This is when I realised it was Monday, not Tuesday. That helped calm down my semi-panic mode. I took this snap through the balcony windows. Then, I started planning a wet room session to perform ablutions and self-medication. Beginning with a visit to the Porcelain Throne. Constipation Konrad single, painful, bloodied and the longest-winded session for many a month. A lengthy sitting this was. However, I did manage to find a couple of solutions to the crossword. Getting the muslin bag from the catheter contraption was painful, but that’s always the case. Shaving took a while, as I’d got Shaking Shaun and Dizzy Dennis visiting at the same time, so I took things as carefully as I could. The result was a terrible shave, but still, now to face the showering. Which went great! A bit rushed, but I still enjoyed it. I remembered to turn the power box off, as well! The next page of notes was redundant. Couldn’t read them at all. The next photo reminded me a little. I recall taking this photo of the legs after reattaching the contraption. I asked Ejaz later to fit the muslin bag support, which he did.
Stayed with me on and off all through the rest of the day. These short ones take so long to recover from.
The lost and unreadable hours of the short day, I just know I didn’t and wasn’t happy with. But details, as I say, are not gettable.
I recall Carer Josie arriving just as I was struggling with coming out of a seizure. I’m sure I tried to explain to her, but I have a feeling I waffled too much. At least, I think I did. I found that she had written on the notepad to remind me to ask the Carer to change the urine pouch on Tuesdays.
I’d decided not to bother with any fancy meal and left out two cheesy-topped cobs and the Matmite to go on them for later.
I do remember taking this shot of the kitchen window sky view. Oh, yes…
Because after taking it and bringing the Koad back from the window frame…
I knocked a bottle of sea salt from the counter. The glass did not break, but the cap flipped open, leaving a fresh aroma after I cleaned it up. Haha!
A nicely burnt vegetable pastie. Two Marmite-filled cheese-topped bread rolls. Sliced and salted a beef tomato. Some Frazzles and a mini ice-cream lolly to follow.
At 22:00hrs, there was a European Ladies football match. I tried tuning in to the Fries, Chief Executive Officer and Vice Chairman of Liberty Global, who owns Virgin Media. He took home $64m in FY2-L. Champion Global Oligarchs, grubstakers, securities brokers, stinking-rich, plutocratic, multi-core, con artists, artful deceivers, flimflam artists, TV.
At 23:05hrs, I gave up.
Today’s estimated share.
I’m hoping for an improvement tomorrow.
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – TO HIS SERIES OF DREAMS LAST NIGHT I hiked there in my warped realisation.
The result of a moment’s aberration,
Off for an afternoon spent riparian,
I enjoyed this on Bristol’s River Avon,
Ah, the peace, no altercation…
I saw my first coprophagan…
Missing the cow turds, with attention,
No visits from Agathodaemon…
I felt totally free of depression,
A gentle breeze, the sun my guerdon,
On the river, flotsam & hymenopteran,
So peaceful, no thoughts bacchanalian,
My mind wandered off on its own volition…
Viewing the world without condemnation,
I fell asleep, & found perfection…
Suddenly, no hatred, wars, crimes or derision!
Harmony, with Angels, each a protecting guardian,
All around me, people dressed Edwardian,
Azaleas, looking up at me, showing their apotropaism,
No scent of fear, or need of apogeotropism,
Then, I feared for this imaginary kingdom,
Knowing what lies ahead, I had the wisdom…
A man filling his pipe, his girlfriend paying attention,
Would she lose him in a war, perhaps the Crimean? Senghenydd explosion, 439 men died while mining,
I woke up to find I had a problem,
A water-filled, leaking Wellington! Maybe a seizure, I thought, after an interregnum,
This was all beyond my comprehension,
Yet the day felt real, in fact, so idyllian,
I even managed a little self-irrision,
I felt joyful, blithe, with exhilaration…
But riddled with suspicion…
Was today all but an illusion?
I’ll have to give this some consideration!
I certainly felt a strange abnormalisation…
I got there & back without transportation?
I searched but found no medication,
Ah… I’m at a different location!
Brookfield Place, under Arkwright St station,
All gone now, not in my memory & imagination,
It smells the same, soot & smoke from the train station,
The rag & bone man, horse & cart creating a ruction,
We try to get an increase in price, but get a reduction,
I saw myself poor & undesirable, a bezonian…
This dream is like a circumbilivagination,
The stable, the wood yard, folks in contradiction, What I see may well be a conceptualisation… But to me, it was a reassuring actualisation, The smell of boiling bones for the gruel,
Not that I ever thought this was cruel,
Survival meant we had to be adaptable,
Cow heel, rabbit; if one were catchable,
Mother found cigarettes to be ascertainable,
Usually scrounged, stolen or pocketable,
As a small lad, others found me punchable,
Despite this, I remained compliable,
Although the neighbourhood was a little tribal,
Everyone had a go at me, it seemed logical,
I thought this was to be expected and normal,
I’ve always been easy to clobber & bumfuzzle,
Never knew why, but Mother called me her barnacle,
They pulled the old Meadows down… terrible!
It’d be a treasure to anyone archaeological! – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – 0535hrs: I think I woke just after having a seizure of some kind or other. Because I was so confused and wobbly on my feet when I dismounted the bed to sort out the nocturnal catheter. I felt the need for the Porcelain Throne brewing up in my innards.
Dizzy Dennis joined in the sensations as I slowly hobbled, with a degree of balancing difficulty, to the Porcelain Throne. It proved to be a messy and extremely long affair. The time spent cleaning up the limbs, bottom, and porcelain was worse because I kept getting dizzy each time I bent down. Another mystery from Woodthorpe Court, with the hobgoblins, spectres, gnomai, phantasms, ghosts, grotesque succubae, extraterrestrials, ectoplasms, & spirits. Receptive Aphasia Phyllis, Paroxysmal dyskinesia, Episodic ataxia, Ménière’s disease, Dark, Deep, Dank Depressing Darius, Peripheral Neuropathy Pete, Nicodemus Neurotransmitters Dying, Glaucoma Gladys, Stuttering Stephany, Lymphorrhoea Leslie, Premordid Cognitive Impairment Inchie, or the Fata Morgana, hobgoblins, spectres, gnomai, phantasms, grotesque succubae, Whoopsiedangleplops that have been sent to taunt, irritate and terminate my already limited saneness of mind. My faith, sanity, and logicality were already on the wane.
But as I hobbled back to the kitchen, I realised it was as if someone had corrected my balance, and the Dizzy Dennis had gone off into the ether?
As I thought about this gift, with her stabbing pains started in the neck this time. And spent three hours touring around my torso. Under the left arm, right chest, centre chest, back to the neck, almost up to the chin, right chest… etc. When she suddenly stopped, I wasn’t surprised; she must have worn herself out. Hehehe!
I poddled out onto the balcony to take a couple of shots of the view in the rain, through the windows, of course. I had to take a shot from the end of the balcony as the innards were gurgling and rumbling again. Once again, was in control. At least it wasn’t as messy as the first. But it was extremely gooey! Smelly-Phoo, too!
Back to the balcony to take a window end shot. Although I am not very often pleased or confident about anything I do nowadays, this one I was happy with. . Hehe!
Carer Ejaz rang the intercom. I fumbled my way to the box, pressed ‘receive,’ and the panel showed Ejaz on his phone. I then pressed the release button on the door. The intercom chimes started again, and the inner lobby door had not opened! I tried again, but no success. (No success? Could that go on my plaque at the crematorium? – Or, as someone suggested last year, would this be better: “He came, He failed, He Went?” Got carried away again there. Sorry. So, I’d got my dressing gown on from when I went out onto the balcony to take the fantastic, wonderful, magnificent photo above left. Haha! So I went down to admit Ejaz. How long will this visit last? I’m absolutely loving this mood! 👍🏾
Ejaz was wet from the rain, poor lad. He got the prescription medications sorted for me and reminded me to take the B12 supplement. No Peptac or Cetraben is needed. As Anne Gyna was on a break, the legs, ankles, and feet that had been fed to bursting point over the last three weeks are looking great, super-duper! Yee-Haa!
I made a determined effort to complete yesterday’s blog. Although, was, for some reason going blurring my sight, almost as bad as she does when I look at the sunshine.
A couple of hours later, the intercom rang again. It was the Iceland order arriving. I tried to tell him the door might not work and that I’d be down to open the lobby door manually for him. I’m not sure if he heard me, as the screen dies within a few seconds. So, I got dressed again, and as I was leaving to go down, the driver arrived. He put them in the kitchenette for me.
The first thing I noticed was the big bag of toilet paper. They were a bit more expensive than my usual ones, but it was the sale price, and it stated they were triple-ply. So, with getting frisky with me, I thought it best. What a Mistaka to Maker! 👎🏼Just look at the size of this sheet that I photographed! Pathetic!
I swear that it will take a third of a roll to wipe my bottie after a evacuation! As I photographed a selection to go into the fridge, I noticed that Iceland Foods had done it again. 👎🏼The steak slice had a must-be-used-by date of Today!
👎🏼And, disappointment number three from Iceland Foods, the baby potatoes. I had to throw away six of them. (see the photo on the right). They were either split or had black spots near the surface; some had both! 👎🏼When I opened a pack of the shortcake biscuits, they had been ready-pre-crushed for me. The company’s new slogan is Google tells me:
👎🏼“That’s why we go to Iceland” Huh!👎🏼 Free delivery, though, as long as you spend £40.
No mention of the fee for picking, packing and carrier bags. But one has to be fair. Asda often pre-crushes your bread to make it easier to digest; their dates are dodgy, too.
Even J Sainsbury sent Royal Farms Grown Anya potatoes last week with black spots, and they were to be used by the same day as the delivery. And cheesy cobs. But with Trump, Putin, Xi Jinping, and Sparkling Toolmaker’s Son Starmer doing their best to prompt World War Three, does this really matter enough to bother about? Maybe not!
A Little Quiz: There was an item in one of the photos that Carer Mizra pointed out had ingredients. Here they are; see if you can find out which product it was from them. Ingredients: Beef (1800P08 per 1g) of beef xxxxxxx. Seasoning: dextrose, caster sugar, salt, onion powder, yeast extract, tomato powder, garlic powder, smoked paprika, caramelised sugar. Natural flavouring: Citric acid, smoked maltodextrin, oregano, liquorice powder, paprika extract, salt, vinegar, potassium sorbate. The seven X’s replace the name of the product. The first comment winner will receive a Certificate Of Merit on the blog.
Carer Mizra arrived, also rather damp-looking.
He took a minute or two to examine the new mobile, trying to figure out how to change the ringtone and make it louder. No luck, but he tried. Thanks, Mizra. Ejaz tried without any luck the other day. I don’t think the option is on the phone at all. They both comprehend the workings of new phones. I think this one has no choice.
I persevered with this blog. And I got some of the photos uploaded and into the WordPress gallery… this is when, to the best of my knowledge, the first seizure occurred. This was a decent, lengthy one, nothing like the five-hour one I had earlier in the week, but again, I was all over the place mentally and physically when I emerged from it. It was replaced by confusion .
I found that while in the seizure, I’d been working on the blog. I made a right mess of it, which took me ages to get right again.
It took me half an hour of just sitting here feeling sorry for myself, especially after the longest-ever unbroken visit from .
All the effects were lessening when Carer Mizra returned. During the time he was here, clarity returned, along with something that amazed me, but it was back in my head again. No rhyme or reason. Nothing had changed, apart from Carer Mizra calling and the head and dizzying clearing. Yet, I’m in a Sod-Them all mode again. Unbothered, unworried? How I wish I could summon Horis up when I need him! 🤸🏻♀️
Back on the balcony.
The rain had stopped. I got a decent shot of the famous end of the car park’s mudflow.
Then, the amazingly dull but still gorgeous sky. Then I’m afraid that things have changed slightly for the worse!
A dual attack coordinated by and hit me; this was not good.
The last Carer call was with Mizra. When he was here, joined in. Mizra had never seen (or heard) Roger in action before.
He seemed genuinely worried, asking if he should call an ambulance. No sooner had he gone than the rain came again. I took a snapshot of it from the closed kitchen window.
Back to the blogging. Thinking and praying for the return of . No luck!
I continued with this lengthy blog. Suddenly, I realised it was 05:00hrs! No wonder I was feeling done in. I had no energy for food preparation, so I saved the things and closed the computer.
It took all the energy I had left just to climb into bed. For the first time ever, I ignored the panic-thoughts of Did I lock the door. Are the taps turned off, etc? I was not feeling too well and was too tired to be bothered. Well, that was a first! Luckily, nothing was found amiss in the morning.
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – I was told to prepare for all contingencies,
I looked this word up in local libraries,
I accidentally looked up continencies,
Was it summat about taking a piss?
Why would Dad want to tell me this? He also said I can recall the basics…
On yer paper round, don’t talk to strangers,
And don’t put on any airs & graces…
If anyone tries to rob yer, kick him in the knackers,
If you tear a paper in the letterboxes,
Put a note through with your apologies,
If a dog bites yer or attacks with its claws,
Don’t scream or make any noises…
Waking people up will bring annoyance & grudges!
In the rain, don’t get the paper wet with smudges,
Alright if it gets damp, but not if it oozes,
And use blinds or drapes, but never portières. I’m not too keen on raviolis,
Not up to doing any exercises,
I wake before the day rises,
That’s due to my nocturnal seizures,
Strong chill, too hot, but I like milder spices,
Used love fondling, groping in various guises,
I’m too old to have any sexual fetishes,
Now, a mug of tea & listen to the Archers,
In pain from the fallen arches,
Stuck indoors, no need for coats & parkas,
Some people are nosey-parkers, not the nurses,
The last woman I fancied was into parrillas,
It was shocking, and she charged us!
Still, I’m ready for reembraces! – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
Hectic day again. I’m miles behind again; at this moment, it’s 16:55hrs tomorrow (Friday)! Just got this far with the blog! A few notes of the day, No doubt some lost and not o the notepad with me getting more and more uptight & frustrated. Then, the few photos I’ve taken. I’ll have to stop to make a meal sometime, so I will have to finish this Saturday morning… I’m getting Anne Gyna back again now, and she is not in a good mood with me. Well, she can… Soddit! Duodenal Donald has joined in now! Grumph!
Anne Gyna woke me up at 0520hrs, so I rose and sorted out the night bag. Went to make a mug of tea and make an early start on my Wednesday blog finishing. Thinking I could catch up, I’m losing this. Hahaha! Carer Ejaz arrived. Medications were administered, and ankles, feet, and legs were checked. Much better all round, great! I spent hours on Odeing, searching for new words to use and getting carried away.
Then, I decided to search for a place that sells footspray and Co-codamol.
Lost hours with the time needed to come out of the many mini-seizures. So many blanks.
Erm… Afternoon Clouds Delight
Well, things indeed became more concentrated after I made the meal: A baguette cut into three, no-butter butter, many slices of salted green tomatoes lashed into them. A Silesian sausage and crisps. I found the pot of jelly on Friday night; I’d dropped it when I fell asleep.
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – FOR TODAY When they come to fit my unwanted smart-meter…
They’ll have to cut off the power,
I’ll need to reset the shower & hot water?
Most worryingly, my computer,
Reset the TV, playbox, & router,
The panic/assistance alarm speaker,
Two landline telephones connected to the ether,
Showing my electrical ignorance & Naïveté,
Time for panic, worry & and thinking waywardly,
Fear, depression, frustration, concern, & misery,
Trying to find & adapt to feel hopefully,
Will I cope with Whoopsiedangleploppery?
Now, as I type, I’ve got amblyopy,
Caused by bewilderment, fear & perplexity.
District Nurses tended to the Lymphorrhoea Leslie,
Thought the leg was doing well, ideally,
But the right foot was still in agony,
Thanked them, sadly, they went away.
They were up to their necks in it, and very busy! 💟
Still awaiting the call from Neurology,
And the mystery parcel from UPS, hopefully, for me,
The kind Kaftan washing lady, 🌺
The nurse, to take blood, Warfarin for the DVT,
Awaiting the Smart Meter, fretfully…
I wound myself up dyspeptically,
Forded into having one, I disagree,
British Gas is acting so oligarchically,
But there’s no option, it’s not discretionary,
This bugs an already pissed-on Inchie!
Concern & fear of their cutting the electricity,
Put Duodenal Donald into declivity,
Anne Gyna’s started showing new activity,
Do I consider British Gas derogatory? Absobloodylutely!
I opened the balcony doors and windows last night before I settled into the hospital bed; it was flipping well hot in the flat. A bad night, as per usual, disturbed repeatedly for the usual reasons. The need of the Porcelain Throne, each time I nodded off, I’d jump awake within minutes. Then, a couple of my famous “Worry-Bug” episodes. I’d made up a bottle of water for overnight from the fridge, so it was cold for a while anyway. But WBW (Worry-Bug-William) wondered if I’d turned off the taps and closed the fridge door, so I just had to struggle out of bed and into the kitchen to check. All was okay. I got back into bed, determined to get and stay asleep! Minutes later, WBW was concerned again. Had I turned off the taps in the Porcelain Throne room? I think it took away my depression & worries of what would happen this morning with all the callers due, at least temporarily. I’d not left the taps running, but I had left the light on. This brought to mind the unnecessary, unwanted, and unneeded electricity meter that the Oligarchs are putting in anyway. That set me off worrying about reconnecting the computer, phone, alarm, router, and so on. Yet another crappy night with a pathetic amount of sleep. I plumped into the c1966, £300 Oxfam charity shop-bought, wincingly grotty, beige-coloured, crumb-covered from my nocturnal nibbling, itch-making, uncomfortable, positively unhealthy, and dangerous, no longer operational, virus-breeding, easy-to-fall-out-of, catheter-tube-trapping recliner. But it does come in damned handy to use to drag myself up after a tumble, trip or fall. Around 04:30hrs, still no sleep and with kicking off, I gave up and got up. At least, although not on top form concentration-wise, and dog tired with the attentions of , starting to grumble, still, it gave me time before the callers come calling to do A good start, as I got into the wet room… Somehow, suddenly wobbled, and down I went, hitting my chin on the WC raising bar! But, I only went down on one knee, and . I was able to claw my way back up on my legs using the sink and basin. Heroically, I pressed on with utilising the . A messier affair than yesterday’s! Clean thing up, and boldly ventured to start shaving… yes, even after all the blood loss from my previous shave, I showed no fear. Okay, ! I thought I was being so careful; However, by the time I’d finished shaving, I’d got three cuts, and I spotted I’d got crimped red marks on my chin. A real mystery how that appeared. Unless it was from the contact made with the sink during my initial tumble? Medicated reachable area in need of it. No rushing, because I knew I wouldn’t have time to post on the blog, and it was still early. (I didn’t realise that I was going to get on this blog, then)
Carer Ejaz arrived, spotted the markings and cuts on my face. And told me to buy an electric razor. Ejaz performed a body check and massaged Cetraben cream on the areas I couldn’t reach. The back and feet, for me. The swelling in the legs had decreased, as had the swelling in the feet, but not by as much. I still couldn’t get the slippers on. Ejaz forced them onto my feet for me. Hehe!
Still awaiting the installation of the oligarch’s electricity meter.
Received some treatment from two district nurses.
By 15:00hrs, the oligarchs, neurologist, INR nurse, and the Catheter Nurse had not arrived. So, I set about starting this blog.
Expecting an arrival from any one of them at any time. Silly me!
Oh, I did take a few photos. I’ll see if I can get them to load into CorelDRAW.
Late morning view.
Today’s arranged visits. Hahaha!
Put the TV on when I started this blog.
Still awaiting the arrival of the people installing the oligarch’s electricity meter.
No seizures at all, as far as I could tell?
Still awaiting the installation of the oligarch’s electricity meter.
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – Off to the wet room for a wash and an ablution, The Porcelain Throne movement was liquidy… I went to get my anti-diuretic medication, Opening the drawer, it was a little sticky… Which held medicines non-prescription, Taking the box, I went a little dizzy, Got myself in some confusion, Trapped my hand, getting a contusion, A scratch, a bruise, a tiny abrasion, Carer Manpreet put on some cream, And I began to think and dream… Of the world’s upcoming desolation, Will Hell or Heaven be awaiting…
Which will lambast us for self-annihilating?
Will we see Heaven or Hell’s disintegration?
117 billion people have lived on this Earth,
That’s a lot of dead souls. Which were worthy?
How did they get through the gates so pearly?
Adam & Eve, they must have arrived early?
Are their souls with mammoths & anacondas?
Will the Grim Reaper take souls from Pure Cremation?
Are the Reapers from the unknown Hell or Heaven?
Hell’s interviewers assess your suitability for entry?
Oligarchs, Hitler, Stalin, Putin, Trump, & Göring get there?
Along with Starmer & Blair, the backhander taking pair,
Oligarchs, they’ll take over Hell’s agenda,
But we who are currently breathing air…
Will never know if anyone is out there!
I know it was pointless being a Brexiteer,
But the end commeth, but no need to fear!
Although at first, things will seem a little queer…
No body, brain, cataracts, no mouth to drink beer,
No sight, hearing, or need for ablutional passing,
No murdering, wars, revolutions or farting,
Nothing to need fearing, authorising or appraising,
You may not even know, after passing…
No more eating, washing, or inequality,
Rent, electricity, or food prices are rising!
No appealling bodies, for wanting or screwing,
No hours lost constipating,
No corrupting, counterfeiting, courting, or coveting, Canyoneering, chauffeuring, or cheering,
Women, no childbearing, catering, or censoring,
No cleaning, coiffuring, nail polishing,
Or anyone to give a bollocking tongue-lashing!
Aristotle said we may still be dreaming.
I think life may have been spent part-time musing,
While waiting for the inevitable ending?
Still, this is not a sad message that I’m sending,
I’d love to know if this thought is trending,
Hopefully, peace will flow, even if we don’t know…
And nothing worth commemorating!
One final thing that I would like to mention…
Ask a friend, neighbour or relation… To check you’re dead before your cremation! – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – Not up to much today. Although having said that, as much as I struggled to get the Ode done, and it took me hours, I still managed to glean some pleasure out of it. I’ve got to cope without Carer Joe now. Well, I say that, he has got a call on Monday, sadly, it will be his last one. I’m scared and worried about how I’ll cope without him. He’s saved the day so many times for me, often several times a week! My fear is getting at me. I can’t help it.
The nocturnal pouch is still attached and shows the red foot, not the white one. Hehe! At least the oedema swelling on top[ of both feet had died down a little while I’d got my feet up. I fell asleep early, but woke up and got up in a semi-confused state, suspecting I’d just had a seizure. Judging by my concentration and balance, they are all over the place.
Took this view from the kitchenette. I then decided to sit down, as my balance was not good, and spent hours updating yesterday’s blog.
Carer Mampreet arrived. She administered the medications and applied some cream to the hand wound and the tops of the feet, which were filling up with liquid again. Then she Germolened the shaving scar on the back of my neck. Bless her! Manpreet took this photo of a hand-wound for me. She used the barrier cream. The photo used in the Ode, the very poor, out-of-balance one, I took earlier. When Shaking Shaun was visiting me.
Back onto the computer and made a dubious start on this blog. Creating the graphics, despite CorelDRAW warning me that it would need to be updated to save any work to the new version. Somehow, I managed to get it to work. I cannot recall what I did, I just pray I can do it again in the morning session. A call from Carer Joe would have been invaluable!
I went to make a mug of tea, my first one of the day. And, I’d been up for nearly five hours already. I’ll pay for this later on, big time.
The Iceland stores order arrived. The driver kindly put them in a line, blocking the doorway, so I could move one at a time. I took some pictures of the food bits, but without the SD card in the camera. Humph! Obtaining the photo of the carriers is another aspect of the mysteries of Woodthorpe Court, which also includes hobgoblins, spectres, gnomes, phantoms, grotesque succubi, extraterrestrials, ectoplasm, and spirits. Receptive Aphasia Phyllis, Paroxysmal dyskinesia, Episodic ataxia, Ménière’s disease, Dark, Deep, Depressing Duncan, Peripheral Neuropathy Pete, Nicodemus Neurotransmitters Dying, Glaucoma Gladys, Stuttering Stephany, Lymphorrhea Leslie, Premordid Cognitive Impairment Inchie, or the Fata Morganas that have been sent to taunt, irritate and terminate my already limited saneness of mind. My faith, sanity, concentration, and logicality were already well on the wane.
The tea had gone cold, so I hobbled to the kitchen to make another brew of Co-Op 99 tea. Taking the above snap of my feet & legs, I noticed that they were even more pronouncedly white on the left and red on the right. The oedema fluid had filled the top and bottom of the right foot, making walking more difficult again. Oh, and painful too!
Made a brew and back to the blogging.
Started making Templates for July.
I assume it was, anyway, that kept blurring my eyesight so much that I had to give up on blogging. These ‘Blur’ periods have been lasting for a few minutes at most, then the vision clears again. Not this time; I was still struggling when making the meal, after switching to reading glasses.
Making and prepping the meal was spoiled and harassed by the arrival of . I dropped the knife three times. Slicing the tomatoes resulted in a cut on a fingernail. Burnt my hand, right on the wound from trapping it in the drawer. Finally, I got it made up, photographed it, and settled down to eat it. Which was another farce. Showed up, and the tray plopped onto the floor, distributing various parts of the meal on the carpet! I discovered a partially eaten piece of sausage on the ottoman in the morning.
I salvaged some of it and still enjoyed it.
The cleaning up of the mess after dining was not appreciated at all. , , , , and were amongst the ailments that were displeased with all the bending down I had to do. Only the innards that had just had their hunger satisfied didn’t complain. I was in such agony in so many areas of my body.
As I climbed into the hospital bed, there were so many aches and twinges, then (Hah!), joined in the onslaught!
It took me hours to fall asleep. The primary reason is the pain, obviously. But these were exacerbated by and that I had to get out of bed so often. As I recall, to check that the taps were not left running? Had I locked the flat door? Then I realised that I’d forgot to ask the Carer to fit the nocturnal catheter bag. The fight to get out of bed and the bending down again to find and fit the night bag prompted her to increase the level and potency of her attacks. I had to get up about five times from the hospital bed. Each one was painful, especially under the feet, as I had to walk on the Oedema fluid-filled feet. I gave up, and got into the c1968, tatty, scruffy, unkempt, uncomfortable, virus, microorganism, bug, bacterium, bacillus, germ, parasite producing, eyesore-horrendously grungy, disease-fermenting second-hand, beige-coloured, £300, second-hand charity shop bought, crumb-retaining, moth-eaten, non-working, itch-encouraging, incommodious, Haemorrhoid Harold testing, catheter tube yanking, recliner. Thankfully, I had taken a rest, but I was replaced with worrying about how I’m going to manage without Carer Joe.
Sleep turned into a fantasy. I sat there and stewed in my pathetic self-pity, until my leg fell off the chair my feet were resting on, to ease the Oedema problem. That extra bit of pain was enough for to come overhead, and sink into my psyche. So, virtually no sleep. 05:30hrs: Somehow, I forced myself up to start the day with a gloom that had never been with me before. And the Whoopsies began again…
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – I CAN DO WITHOUT DAYS LIKE THIS!
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
MORE A REMINDER THAN CARTOON – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – STOP… Stop, but don’t do nothing… Think: Is humankind worth saving? Who will do the adjudicating? Whom can we trust for officiating? Who will reveal the declaring? Will we decide by voting? The leaders we’ve been electing… Oligarchs, criminals, always lying… I find them greedy & mind-boggling, He seems to enjoy pensioners dying? <<<<>>>>> When we bravely request a financial bequest, We get a failed promise, a behest at best, Do we vote for the least bloodthirstiest, We settle for the best of the baddest, We get Starmer, virtually, Labour’s baddest, A right-winger, not a Socialist! A taking backhanders specialist, Who looks after his own spondulicks, As lying PMs go, he’s the stealthiest, Maybe he appeals to schizophrenics. <<<<>>>>> Compassion? He hasn’t got the remotest, Wars, hostages? He’s not worth a sausage, He’s got his nuclear shelter radiologist, Is earth worth saving in retrospect, To be honest, I’ve not got the remotest, Did you hear of the upcoming protest? Calls for a national strike from communists, If it’s all peaceful, I won’t object, I liked Boris, although the slaphappiest, Starmer? The Unsincerest! <<<<>>>>> Can you believe Keir’s not even prosecutable? He’s even not at all arrestable! No chance of him being imprisonable, He’s sacrosanct; after lying to get electable, Takes backhanders; what a spectacle… Clothes, cinema, tickets for Arsenal, He’s made himself impregnable… Other MPs’ crimes make them blackmailable, Yet his crimes are irrefutable! His greed & dishonesty are kenspeckle! <<<<>>>>> – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – A minimal in the extreme blog today
LAST NIGHT….
Early yesterday evening, to add to the crazy seizure and Ann Gyna popping into the equation, I got the same as I did last Saturday night. A deep tiredness, depression and, most annoyingly at the time, kicked off for the first time since last Saturday. I nodded off to sleep in the c1966, £300 charity shop bought second-hand, wincingly grotty, beige coloured, not working, crumb-covered from the nocturnal nibblings, itch-making, uncomfortable, virus-breeding, easy-to-fall-out-of, recliner, even with and both giving me attention and waking me up every so often, I soon got back into bliss. Carer Joe woke me up. I was so wee’d-off. I couldn’t help it. Within minutes of his departure, I nodded off again. Mysteriously, but it suited me; never twitched again. And eased off tremendously. And I fell into a deep sleep, dreaming of the old days. Two hours later, Carer Ejaz woke me. I WAILED WITH FRUSTRATION. Poor Ejaz thought I was getting at him. It’s hard to explain how things can be with my conditions, and I felt guilty about the misunderstanding. Once Ejaz departed, I felt tired and could not get back to sleep. I tried the usual: I put the TV on. Even that failed. After another fruitless hour of trying my best, I finished yesterday’s blog and started this one. Around 04:30hrs, I felt I could get some sleep. But needed to utilise the . As I got up, the pain from the catheter tube in Little Inchy, now leaning to the left, was agony!
I hobbled to the wet room and got myself seated. The nasal juices flowed, and it took me ages to painfully encourage the controlled evacuation to begin. A little bleeding from . I emptied the pouch into a jug for the Carer to evaluate. Then, I tackled moving the tubing and straps on the catheter in the vain hope of easing the pain. I decided to get the done, being as I was up. Shaved first. It is not usually recommended when I feel so tired. But, foolishly, I carried on. I amassed four nicks and foolishly . Wish I’d taken Kodak Tim 2 with me now. The sink reminded me of, erm… Psycho, I think. Haha!
Orifices scrubbed up and dried.
All the usual. Eye drops & sprays Little Inchies Lesion, Another failed go at getting the catheter contraption tube & straps less painful. Barrier creamed where I could reach.
I was back on the computer, fell asleep, and crumpled to the floor, landing on my left knee—now the tube and straps are even more painful. Clamboured up using the aged, grotty-looking c1966 made, charity-shop-bought, horribly beige-coloured, £300, Harold’s Haemorrhoid-testing, non-operational, acne-giving, virus-breeding, rickety, easy-to-fall-out-of recliner. And thought I’d stay there and get some sleep at long, long last.
That lasted a minute or so, and the landline telephone chirped up. All I could hear was some music? No idea who it was.
Carer Ejaz came in. Well, after I’d unlocked the door, I forgot to do it with the ablutions and Meds performance. A good-looking lad, he was getting some medications out of the prescription drawer in the kitchen.
I’m so tired out. Continues her milder attackd. She’s getting around a bit today. I’m unsure what happened in detail, but the worn-outness and fatigue returned just like last weekend? Why only at weekends? Fell asleep, Carer woke me up. Put TV on to watch the highlight of the day. Fantastic Result! A WARM SMUGNESS FELT! My hatred of Manchester City is only beaten by my Hatred of Chelsea. Naturally, my loathing of Herr Keir ‘Pensioner-Killer’ Starmer outdoes them both. – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – I then proceeded to fall asleep again. Woken by the Carer. Mizra. Who, I recall, barrier-creamed both ankles. Painkillers were given to counter the almost persistent and graded the urine for me.
I then did some work catching up on this blog. Before getting the meal, I prepared it earlier and put it in the fridge. Delicious! – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – Cheers! – –
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
Cooked pot of pork knuckle, beetroots, pickled black beans and water chestnuts, a giant potato pancake, two doorstep sized slices of bread, and a spot of BBQ sauce added. A cheap icecream cone to follow.
Ate it all up, like a good little boy. Hehehe!
22:20hrs: I got bedded down, and was soon off into the land of slumber, where I had a dream.
I was in the Tardis, with Herr Starmer. I recognised it from the TV series, but there were also members of Parliament, all arguing. Starmer seemed oblivious to this, and carried on over-talking them. I wish I could recall more. But that’s all folks! As some old Walt Disney cartoons used to end. Not that I can recall it at the moment, but I reckon I must have got up during the morning, and took these photographs from the kitchen window. Putting them on, I remembered the green sky, and wondering what I’d done wrong? To the right I think. To the left I think. Ahead, I guess. Closer shot, ahead. (Brown now?)
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – Well, he’s back another reactivation,
Imbedding in me, thoughts of a madman,
Or perhaps, to be closer, a badman…
Silly thoughts, developed, began…
Will I ever get to use a bedpan again?
A chance to dance, the twist or can-can?
If I’m reborn, I’d like to be a Casanovan,
I’m passing wind with power of a turbofan,
I can hear words, they’re stentorian…
However, I refuse to pay attention,
They are full of hatred & vilification…
Loathing, defamation, castigation…
Giving me collywobbles & trepidation,
They laughed at my coming trephination,
Is the voice mine? Am I in regression?
My alto-ego is a much better rhetorician,
I leave no progeny, offspring, scion,
What will I leave in residualisation?
With age, comes a painful realisation,
Unwarranted dismal and depression,
I’d use a little prognostication…
Involving perception, conceptualisation,
But it would only be assumption, supposition,
I’d love to know before my conclusion,
Can life really be just an illusion? – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – Best Week All Year!
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
I had to use the Porcelain Throne twice overnight.
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
At 06:40hrs, I bounded out of bed, and I did a backwards flip. One-handedly whipped the nocturnal pouch from the day bag. Burst into song; Frank Ifield’s Wayward Wind. Did a few press-ups, and ten minutes of shadow boxing, and opened the kitchen window to yodel my greetings and best wishes to all who could hear me… Or, if you prefer the truth…
It’d been another stormy night. It must have taken me four hours to fall asleep. with his nit-picking and reminders of various mistakes and bad choices I’ve made over the years, I finally gave up his attack. I feell asleep for about an hour, sprang awake, waited for to stop trying to twist my neck off, and as he subsided, had her turn at dislocating my shoulder bone. No chance of nodding off again no matter how tired I felt, now. At 06:40hrs, I removed the night bag, and the need for the Porcelain Throne arrived. I could hardly feel the evacuation taking place. As I stood up, I couldn’t believe the amount of mass of evacuated product in the porcelain! I’ll say no more...
Made a brew of Glengettie.
Carere Ejaz called. I forgot to ask him to take off my socks. And pointed out that have only one warfarin dose left in the stock. Ejaz said sorry for being late. No bother at all. He was using buses on a Sunday.
I prepared the meal for tonight.
Large white beans, black-eyed peas, Gung Po sauce and gravy, water chestnuts, Light Soy sauce, liquid smoke, and potatoes. Heating it slowly in the crock-pot. Yes, the same again. I do like it!
More kitchen views. Sunshine getting through. Decent shots?
Back to the blogging.
Then onto the WP Reader.
Hoping it lets me ‘like and comment’ this time.
Carer Joe arrived. He’s bought some prescription medications, bless him. Great, I was on the last Warfarin tablet, too! Thanks!
Got the meal sorted. Took snaps of the evening view. Amazing cloud formations
The days meal.
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – May your week go frabjously, Your hopes develop fabulously, Your days each go unfractiously. May your plans go flawlessly, May your luck go favourably… for your fancies and foibles, Each day pass felicitously, You avoid all that goes feudally, Your dreams mature flawlessly, May others greet you fondly, And have a bit of luck, financially! – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – My mind does nothing assentingly, Neurotransmitters similarly… But, by gum, this may sound bizarrerie… But I’ll battle-on, although a woopie, I’ve lately been sour, crestfallenly, Depressed and feeling low desolately, All despairingly, and disconsolately, High-Mode-Horis: unexpectedly with me, I don’t expect any logicality… But I really do feel high, surprisingly! I’m still all over-the-place-vigilantly, I still sense my timidity & vincibility… And, life’s still filled with uniquity, At this moment, I am feeling happy! Now you don’t often hear this from Inchy, I know depression will return, distantly… A day, hours, minutes, or even instantly! It’ll hurt if he attacks immediately… It’s what the turd-face does, usually, I accept the prospect almost casually, That revelation although, frightens me… It reveals my neurodiversity, And perhaps my nugacity & drollery? While depression-free, perhaps he’s on holiday! When he returns, I’ll go all nebbishly… Until then, I almost feel free of moribundity! I’ve gained a different personality… At least temporarily! – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – It’s all good innit? – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – ROTTEN SLEEP AGAINA confusing first few hours. Littered with little annoyances. Which turned into a semi-panic stage later on. But more later, I’ll try to reveal things chronologically, so as not to lose myslef.
I couldn’t get to sleep in the bed for some unknown reason, so I moved into 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.
At last I did nod-off afew times; waking up again with neck jerks and shakes from a variety of bodily appendages, with getting her stabbing pains in a few times. But, I’ve had worse.
04:40hrs: As I removed the night pouch from the day bag, I noted how little was in the nocturnal pouch. At this time it didn’t matter, as there was no discomfort from the day bag. I checked the taps, stove, etc. things were okay. I tok a snao of the morning view on offer from the kitchenette window.
I’d done the bleeding gums and teeth, and was about to start on the shaving, but had to divert to the Porcelain Thone with haste. Damned good job I was in wet room, cause I would never have got there in time. As yesterday, it started on its own. Phew!
Just one weenie-cut shaving. The medicationings went great. Just the usual agony applying the fungal lesion ointment… well, the rubbing it in hurt!
I got the fresh PPs on almost easily!
Great start to the day, I thought. I was feeling a smidge perky now! So, I got the waste bags into one, and placed it near the door.
I handwashed the wolly hat and towel and hung them in the clothes arer in the hallway.
I got the computer on, and had flow-back pains from the catheter. I took a peek at things, and wriggled the tubes, but the flow-back pains were still coming every couple of minutes.
Carer Ejaz arrived. I was told him about the flow-backs. He got the medications issued. Got my diabetic socks on my legs. Reminded me about the vitamin tablets. Then some serious pains came from the flowback. His next job, was to put a new day catheter as sleeve on my leg. We had hoped the new bag would be successfully used. Haha! But, No!
Ejaz had a look, but he couldn’t free the flow for me. I tried it again, with the same results.
Ejaz suggested that I phone the Distric Nurses. A problem with that is they are not working on weekends. But tey may assess the situation safety-wise at least. But it wastoo early to call yet. I asked Ejaz to take a photo of the catheter contraption for me, so I can put it here and see if I can identify what’s causing the problem. Ejaz put a plaster on one of the welts that was bleeding. He had to go, he had a lot to do this morning. When I got around to uploading the photo. I noticed that the top tube from Little Inchie was backed up full. The new catheter tube below was gin-clear!
I assumed the problem was with the connecting tube thingamagig.
So, I took a closer look. After a struggle, I squashed, squeezed, and tugged at the connector, and it started to slowly flow. I could see some creamy yellow bits of whatever, going through with the urine. It is still backing up even now, hours later. But I keep squashing, squeezing, and tugging, and the flow starts again, gradually slowing down.
I may be due for a contraption replacement?
The Iceland elive ry arrived. The man kindly carried the carrier bags through to the kitchen for me. Kind of him, that was. The only frozen food I’d bought was the cheap ice cream cones. I got them in the freezer first. I spotted the giant potato waffle in there. I’ll have that today I think. Iceland has Gung Po sauce on offer, so I bought some. I couldn’t find them when I searched for Gung-Po sauce. Luckily, I tried a search for Sharwood’s, and it came up. While setting up the food cupboard things for this photo; I had the weirdest of seizures. I just stopped what I was doing and held onto while leaning against the door in the corner. I can’t say why I did this, but I’m ever so glad that I did. A phenomenal loss of balance and a dizzy spell came over me, lasting around ten seconds. Had I not took precautions they would have had me over without question. How the hell did I know? Weird! I got the idea to put some Marmite on the potato hash Browns later. Well!
A different carer called who is doing the last three calls. His name is Mirza. Seemed like a nice enough lad. He gave me some Peptac when I asked for it. And listened while I told him of the catheter problems.
Then I got on with blogging and the ode making.
WordPress not letting me like or comment on the Reader? Humph! Now the photos are disappearing!
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – THE HAZE/HASH OF OUR HMG! I faced adversity catastrophes, indomitably,
Searching for success, I found extinction,
Been shot, heart attack & bankruptcy,
Recognised politicians showed prevarication,
They rule unreliably and lyingly…
Take backhanders with pretension,
Reliable? Each one is a proletariat’s liability,
Growing their wealth in HMG’s pantheon!
>>>>><<<<<
Starmer lines his pockets, carefreely,
Lie, steal from pensioners, Scot-freely!
Prices are rising for food, gas & electricity,
Keir does it all so perfunctorily, blasély,
Surely, he’s an under-the-bed Tory?
His price rises show his peccability,
The voters he scoffs at dismissively,
Proletariats get poverty and penury!
>>>>><<<<<
Who voted for him, primarily plebian…
Realise now, it shouldn’t have been,
He’s mendacious, criminal, immoral & mean!
Keir’s term in office: a trial by ordalian,
Starmer got 3m votes, fewer than Corbyn,
Still enough to give him a win,
That was due to the Tory’s suiciding,
Citizens’ fears are accumulating!
>>>>><<<<<
His lies, there’s not been an investigation,
He shows no signs of any opprobrium,
A man of obfuscation and deception,
No prosecution, just mystification…
Civil Service & HMG are both crooked,
Their guilt, either hidden or resolved,
Most of what they’ve done, I anticipated,
Starmer should be sacked & becudgelled!
>>>>><<<<<
He claims to be a necessitarian,
I think that he’s Machiavellian!
Ill-conceived, ill-advised, & misbegotten,
There’s no hope, no pharma-conation,
As he strangles voters of the Nation,
I’m not saying he’s a pigwidgeon…
Nor a patrician, but a man on a mission,
To take backhanders & make commission!
>>>>><<<<<
He’s worthy of, and gets my derision,
Mayhap the Lord’s resurrection…
Along with our citizens quiritation…
Can bring about, Starmer’s retrogression,
Force him into his own rescission?
Free us of Keir, the self-rhetorician?
Give him a thorough scrutinisation,
But of course, this will not happen!
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>><<<<<<<<<<<<<<<< CATCH UP Owing to my plans to get a wash and sit-down when the fatigure-fell yesterday teatime, I got nowt done on the computer again for the rest of the night. I thought I’d fall asleep and get a few hours in before the last Carer’s call, then restart doing the blog.
Instead, I had God knows how many mini-seizures but no actual sleep. Three hours later, Carer Ahmed arrived. Said I was, sitting there mumbling to myself and breathing heavily, with my eyes open. Once I got up, I felt so drained. I nearly fell back down again. But Ahmed was as quick as a flash and stopped me from plumping back into the 1966, £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. He got my diabetic socks off my feet, issued the medications and checked the taps and oven for me. After the lad left, I went to the kitchen to make a meal. Boy, was I tired out and drained. I took these fantastic puffer cloud shots.
Minced beef with black beans. Some seasoned unskinned chips. Lovely! A cornet of ice cream afterwards. I’d made too much again. Well, not much!
But at least I didn’t spill any. – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – How can one be so drained and tired but not get to sleep? Horrible night. Forever jumping awake within minutes of the odd nodding off’s that I got. I gave up and got up at 05:00hrs. Sorted the waste bins. Then the big task began. What a session. There is no other word for it. Great! A cutless shave, absences of , , , & . I’ll add because she did not kick off until later.
The medicationalising was not too bad, but no worse than of late. Until, of course, it came to the last task, ointmentating and rubbing it in poor suffering . I creamed where I could reach of the ribs & backs . Again, I could not get those on my back. I’ll ask the Carer if he can help when he arrives. At least I have a good stock of new barrier cream in the drawer. I must have taken longer than I thought on these tasks. As I got the PPS on without much of a struggle, I’d like to add, and was getting the Kagoule on, the Carer Ahmed arrived.
Ahmed was on good form this morning. Medications were issued, and my diabetic socks were fitted. He then applied barrier cream to my back and ribs, using the last of the old tubes of Derma Cream. Achmed liked doing this job and was good at it. He then sprayed the glaucoma spray on my eyes for me. I’ll call him Dr. Ahmed from now on. Hehehe! He asked for another local accent word, and I gave him ‘Kip’ for a sleep or nap. I’ve given one a day for a few days. The first was ‘Tara” for cheerio. He said he had used it with other clients this morning, and they loved it. Hearing that cheered me up. Yesterday, it was ‘Aye-Up.’ I think the other one was ‘Midduck’. No, that one’s for tomorrow.
Ahmed took a photo of me with a Kodak-Tim-1. He’d drawn the curtains, knowing how the sunlight affects Glaucoma Gladys. He thought I looked like a Mafia Boss. Haha!
I grafted away on the Ode making and got it finished. Then, I updated and posted the Sunday blog. During the morning, I took these snaps from the kitchen. The shadows from the rising sun from the back of the flats made some of them enjoyable. The painted houses. If not, I might not see them. My block of flats’ shadow in this one. Took later.
Carer “Joe” arrived. He did a grand job of helping again, bless him. He rang the surgery to see if I could get an appointment for any Wednesday, his more extended visit laundry day. 3rd on the waiting list. Got through and he tried his best, but the earliest Wednesday might be 4 weeks wait, and he wasn’t sure if the Doctor could fit it in for the times that Joe was here. Chances were getting dimmer. I suggested that perhaps she could give me a call at home. Yes, but not on a Wednesday. I ended up with her ringing on Monday the 28th between 10 & 11:45hrs. In 14 days. Going well for the NHS, innit? We had to agree; there was no other choice, had we?
Computing was going very slow today.
Carer “Joe” returned to the first evening call. Again, he helped out no end. He called the chemist and arranged for the medications to be sent to his company’s chemist for collection. I’m lost with all these changes. Thank heavens for Carer “Joe”!
It’s already 20:00hrs gone. I’ll make a meal and try to catch up in the morning.
