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Life has so many distractions,
And more than enough perceptions,
Of our needs and conceptions,
There’s a shortage of antediluvians,
Enforced bourgeoisification’s,
Wayward silly compunctions…
So many mental configurations,
Constant demoralisations…
Neurological dysfunctions,
I lose it if I get any distractions…
Short-term memories? Become delusions,
Taps left running when I do the ablutions,
Fridge and freezer doors left open frustrations!
Sleep & rest are not in my programme,
My parents were plebs, not patricians,
I’m envious of quinquagenarians,
Coping with mental maelstroms…
Like this ode, life has too many idioms,
Are there any cope-with-life’ enchiridions?
No avoiding the gloom and dissensions,
Rubbish issued by the epistolarians,
Lies from Starmer & his MP archvillains,
And I’m in a mess with my prescriptions!
No signs or hopes of any augmentations,
I struggle with life’s daily cacodaemons,
Will I end up in Hell’s cauldrons?
Many old men turn into curmudgeons,
My depressions are darker, not cerulean,
My ponderations are labyrinthian,
But I give the Carers my laudation!
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Gawd Strewth!
What’s going on here? Now rest, no time, hassle, botherations… and unbelievably busy!
Contacted by email, telephone, or text today, and all needed time and concentration to decide what was what. I think I was in a spate of mini-seizures when each contact was made.
I got myself into a good het-up state, all worked up, and believe it or not, I lost the page with the details of each call from the notebook. Unreal!
I can’t recall many details, and this list I’ve dragged from my not-interested-brains memory box will likely be out of sync timewise.
Obviously, the domestic work of cleaning the wet room has still not been completed, after five days of hoping to find the time and struggling to catch up with my beloved blogging. I may have missed one or two off of the list.
Location: On the toilet – The landline rang.
I got to it too late. Darn-it!
Location: In the kitchen. The mobile rang.
I got to it in time, but I could not even recognise the voice of Caroline, the Doctor’s Surgery Nurse.
She rang back on the landline. She asked many questions about my health & concerns, bless her.
She will see me, possibly next week, but I’ve forgotten the date on the magically disappearing note sheet. She is going to put me through a Cognition Test regarding the dementia.
Location: On the Computer: The bank called; they would like me to call in the bank and speak with them. I explained the changes I was in at home, and they said to ring back when things have calmed down… Calm Down? For Me? Come on, “I’m obviously fated to confusion, tiredness and depression along with the seizures for however long I’ve got left”
Location Kitchenette: The Social lady called on the mobile. I can’t recall who it was or what was said, but it sounded like her voice. I asked if whoever it was could ring on the landline. But they did not call back. I was having a seizure at the time.
Location: In the wet-room, changing protection pants… I had a leak.
The door chime rang out. But when I got to the door, nobody was there. On the way back in, I knocked over the airer, which fell onto the second airer, and they both collapsed together. I then had to sort out 11 pairs of socks back into matching pairs and relay them on the airers. I didn’t mind at all. Liar!
Location: When the mobile burst into life, I was bent down at the freezer, trying to find the boil-in-the-bag of beef in gravy. British Gas couldn’t understand a word he or it said.
So many photos would not fit today. Well, wouldn’t save to file for me?
I need help again. I won’t be a happy chappie if things don’t get less harassing, gloomy, and mistake-ridden, or Anne Gyna and the Seizures don’t give me a break. I’ll have to stop doing this blog!
If it’s not CorelDraw, it’s Sandra’s Seizures, Glaucoma Gladys, etc. Something is always costing me precious time every day. I don’t think I can carry on much longer, and I’m not sure I want to.
It’s getting to me. Far less often does
visit me nowadays.
Everything is a failure and hard work. I’m struggling with everything now. Nothing is getting solved, cured, or any easier or better. Sorry I had to say this!
I need so much help. I appreciate that it will not be coming. I’ll try to continue, even if it’s only an Ode now and then.
I have to accept how things are, I know. But is it worth it?
Sorry again.
Morning.
Minutes later.
I sorted the clothes scattered all over the place to dry when they had been returned from the laundry. Taking this shot caused me a nasty near-tumble. Thankfully, Carer Ahmed helped me.
Bottom field and houses with some people who have family, can walk unaided, get their Glaucoma operated on, clean their wetrooms, possible have a computer or know how to get help with it when it plays up, maybe they don’t have
a mechanical heart aorta, legs bandaged to counter the attentions of
, both
&
giving way,
in both knees,
,
,
,
, both their hearing aid broken at the same time. With
,
,
, suffer from
,
, Taking Tumbles,
a day, to keep the doctor away,
,
,
,
,
,
,
,
,
,
, use a
, or take about two hours to get their
done, or have
.
Or any of my less frequent visitors, like
, Four times a day (8) self- administered ENOXAPRIN injections,
,
,
,
,
Is it a sticking valve, a present after the heart operation, or
alternating between each
visit with
?
I feel awkward & awful now! Tsk!
My Worst Depression Ever!
I’m embarrassed! But this is what I wrote while in a mega-depression. I hope the doctor reads it.
It’s brightening up a bit.
I wish I was!
Ablutions medications were sorted.
Taken from the computer chair through the balcony. Taking this, Anne Gyna kicked off.
Lovely tasting nosh.
Many figures to be seen in these clouds.
Sister Jane in her early years! c.1953?
Sister Jane in my flat. 2021
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All The Best!
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Nocturnal pouch
Calendar Clock
Laundry waiting to go.
Damp laundry put on the two airers, by Ahram.
Dressing gowns hung up.


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I removed the night bag from the day bag, and bending down, I got a visit from
It looked bleak outside, with a bit of drizzle.
I did some hoovering and sorted the waste bins. Then, I felt guilty about the mess in the wet room that still needed to be cleaned, so I went to the wet room.
The fridge.
The freezer.
The waters.
I took another kitchen window shot.
The day’s original Beloved Copse shot
To the left of the window and down a bit.
A ready-made beef in gravy with colcannon mashed potatoes. I added the last can of minced beef in gravy, carrots, and peas. Added some Marmite to the mixture and stirred it all up. Just four minutes in the microwave & it was ready-to-eat.
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A 7, I think, on the NHS scale.
The sun broke through.
Clock-Calendar.
Slow, painful, & bloody.
The wound on Arthur Itis and Catheter Chloe is getting so much better already.
Unburnt lambburgers!


Emptied the nocturnal catheter pouch, wrapped it and put it in the bin. It was a seven on the NHS scale; the carer judged it for me.
I settled to try and utilise the Porcelain Throne. But did not anticipate the length of time and agony to get the innards contents freed. I was another massive, bum-splitting gigantic torpedo that finally freed itself. Bled a bit, but I felt better after a day and a half of no movement from the bowels. As I was cleaning my rear end, I noticed bubbles coming up from where the torpedo had disappeared. I’d not used any toilet cleaner or bleach yet. I went to the junk
room to get Kodak Tim 2, and they were still bubbling away when I got back with the camera and took this photo?
I came around or woke up and realised I had not changed the calendar clock yet. Two days now.
cloud was so thick I didn’t see the sun setting at all. No street lights on. Power outage today? And here I was, high in the sky, looking at the darkness, with my lights on to tease those below! Haha!
Nordic Bacon and potato chunks.
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The nocturnal bag rating was a four!
First photo of the view.
I did my best, but things tarted to bleed. I gave up.
Retrieving the razor, I trapped my arm amidst the trolley as Cartilage Chloe gave way. Just as well, I did cause the entanglement stopped me from going down and hitting the de
Started the hand washing and airing.
What a hue the sky had changed to!
I noticed that somebody in the flat had not changed his c176 clock calendar date! Hehe!
Teatime delivery from Ocado.
Costly!
Oven chips in the oven.
At last, a meal I enjoyed!
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First one.
My beloved tree copse.
Cavendish Vale
CorelDraw problems again.
This might be out of sync timewise?


Green skies, as well.
After the last two nights of sleeping in bed, the nocturnal seizure stopped any silly thoughts of sleeping. So, after burning my lamburgers, don’t think that this pissed me off and got me all angry and annoyed with myself. I wet back to using 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, in hopes of nodding off.
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First view shot from the kitchen.
The carer also coded the night bag contents.
She took my blood, and we had a few minutes natter. I do love her so. ♥
Akmad wrote all the details down for me to put on the calendar.
I hung all the diabetic socks on coathangers above the sink to drip dry.
Early one.
Afternoon.
About 17:00hrs.
20:30hrs.
I was so tired out while making and prepping this decent-looking meal. And foolishly not asking the carer not to put the nocturnal catheter bag on cause I’d not made a meal yet. This means I was doddering around with Four-Pronged-Waking Stick Willie and carrying the night bag while trying to prepare the meal. Not easy. I don’t know what went wrong with the chips, but they were awful! I couldn’t find a use-by-date on the bag, but maybe they were outdated. I can’t remember even buying them.
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An ode to my beloved Grim Reaper,
Carer said this was a number 6 on the scale.
The sun made this a different shot as it appeared from behind the prison. No, the flats.
I have to keep up with the handwashing of the nightshirts. I washed one and flavoured it… I scented it with freshener, wrung it out, and hung it on the wetroom shower curtain rail.
The photo of the flat one seems to have disappeared from the SD card. Or I didn’t take it?
The DVT Warfarin nurse called to tell me she was coming to see me in the morning. Getting a phone call from this delightfully gorgeous, friendly, and caring nurse was lovely. ♥ If only I were 55 years younger.
My ultra-modern 1976 Nokia mobile phone seemed to have changed its colour scheme to green.
An early afternoon view here.
We’re getting some fantastic early evening skies recently. Glad I got these.
The best close-up is one of the red bits.
DOUG’s ANDY, FURRY OF THE DAY 1
I don’t know when, but today.
The pork leg slices and mini sausages were baked to perfection! The stray looked a little bare. Hehe!
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Nocturnal waking shade.
Morning view
Handwashed.
Titivated the room while waiting.
The washer filter was in a bad state.
Back down to report to the commandant’s office.
Early evening view.
Milk Rolls Bread sarnies are made with lashings of the delicious Flora no-butter butter, and some Marmite was spread on the bread.
And some pickled beetroot. And tucked into the meal!
A cloudless multicoloured sky!