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THE LONGEST DAY
Not the most infuriating of days.
But possibly the most frustrating.
Errors, accidents & mistakes.
My self-esteem, well, what bit I have left, anyway, collapsed as I made cock-ups, errors, mistakes after mistake.
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Have to be a quickie. It is not Thursday, and I am only just starting this blog. Life is so hectic. My dream of peace & quiet in retirement has crumbled. So much to do yet;
1) Call oligarchal British Gas to tell them they have (supposedly) sent an engineer to check out the Gas meter five times, guaranteeing he would arrive, and not one has managed to get here in well over a year. They keep sending me emails demanding I supply them with a reading. Carer Ejaz has called them repeatedly, but he isn’t calling as often now. He sent them a photo of the meter. Which is out of date. They have increased my payments. What the &^)+#, can I do?
2) Both hearing aids are not working; I have to get someone to call the Audio Clinic, but make sure it does not clash with any other appointments.
3) The Dentist appointment needs arranging. Make sure it does not clash with any other appointments.
4) I’m still waiting for an appointment at the EENT to have the cataract laser treated.
5) Waiting for an appointment with Mental Health at Haywood House Hospital to get the results from the test and be referred to someone.
6) A neurology appointment to re-scan the TBI; is also on the waiting list.
7) Yesterday & this morning, the Doctor’s surgery phoned. Still wanting a Carer to call them re an appointment. I asked Carer Andrew three times yesterday. Said he could not get through the navigator AI waffle. Earlier this morning Thurs, I got Andrew again. Too early to even ask him to ring the Doctor. Then they sent a new Carer to join Andrew… and Andrew teaching someone what to do is a recipe for disaster. Looks like the new lad, Raj, will be calling now, so Ejaz and Mirza may call even less often. This is scary for me. They are both so supportive. Driving me to silly thoughts. I realised the futility of the situation while talking to the Doctor’s receptionist.
8) The bank needs to interview me again.
9) I’ve been told by two different sources that my chances of getting into a home are approximately zero.
10) The new instructions that I need to go to the QMC A&E told me that when the Catheter blocks, I must go by taxi, as this is a Medical Emergency.
The one time I went, once there and £24 out of pocket on the taxi there, it was for hours before a Doctor saw me. He could not replace the Catheter tube in three attempts. Then I was taken to another Doctor to try. He got it in on his second try. But the only instructions given were not to let the array pad holding the tubes in place come off. It fell off of its own accord the next morning. I phoned the hospital, got the department, and was told to see your district nurses. Even now, months later, I can’t figure out why I had to make sure the pad stayed in place.
11) Each of these appointment visits & arrangements will involve taxis and Carer costs.
Impossible to do without my hearing aids; Carers not ringing to make appointments when I asked them to (Only one, but that was the one who is hard work, and determined to do as little as possible and then as badly as possible). Such as laundry returned still wet, mopped the kitchen in only 5 minutes; I timed him and pointed out the dirt marks still on the floor between the floor cupboards. My future looks bleak, Care-wise.
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Through frustration, I over-waffled there. No time for a proper blog; I’ll just put the photos on.
It was all mayhem anyway. Three pages of notes made too; I’ll select and pick just a few.
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I’ve got too much to do for Thursday; no chance of doing a blog. I’ll try to put some old odes on WP.
Nurses’ visit, Social Lady, deliveries, doctors’ problems to sort, appointments to make…
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My Plans were destroyed again.
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This was tomorrow; I ended up in the hospital again. I’ll try to get something on the books for the 11-hour visit tomorrow. Writing this at 11:40hrs, when I got back from the QMC on Thursday. With the most painful & most uncomfortable, bloodied Catheter setup ever! Got to kiss tons off on this Wednesday one, and try to get something done on Friday about Thursday’s abysmal failures.
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The start of the rot, Catheter-wise.
Doctor rang again wanting to speak to Carer; said I’d ask them again, but not interested yet.
Misra helped with showering, very much appreciated.
Dettol & SD card delivered.
Care navigator rang again to speak with Carer, Huh!
No interest when I asked them again to ring him.
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Night shots
Distance
Close-up
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TTFNski, Each
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= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =
.
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I lay in my high-class oligarch’s bed for ages after recovering from the horrible night’s sleep. Or rather, lack of sleep. My mind was stewing over so many worries and tasks that I had to get done today & tomorrow. The fear of certain carers being due, and missing Ejaz and Mirza, accompanied by 
, 
, and the odd twangs of pain from Neck-Pain-Nigel and 
.
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body to test, feeling out which ailment would be master over me today, I was amazed when I moved and caught sight of the nocturnal Catheter pouch on the floor. (It’s got a very long tube – it was Anne Gyna, by the way) I was more surprised than the other morning. How the 
pouch hadn’t split, I don’t know. 18,500ml! This helped me break the deep depressive thoughts I had.
elbow! I hit my chin and kneecap. The second Carer, the nice one, took this snap of it for me. It looked far worse than it was. On the plus side, at least I’d cleaned up the mess from Trotsky’s follow-through before I plunged my arm into the pan. Haha!
Pleased to report that now the toenails have had £35 worth of cropping, I’ve been walking much less painfuller. I’ve clouted my chin and bruised the right knee, though. I mustn’t complain. I’m not sure why.
I found a source of solace in working on the computer today. Fair enough; it was a day of mistakes and faults, and a memory-mangling day, too. Without much doubt, I did have my thinking cap on. I thought that if I delved deeply into the record-keeping, blog, etc. I would not start panicking about the trip to the Titx TSB bank tomorrow. I’m sure it worked for a few hours. But it all came flooding back. Then I could not concentrate when I started updating the blog.
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= =Last nights sunset==
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of the oddest visits I’ve ever had. I was so lucky, yes, lucky, that I was only 3 feet away from the Throne, and got down just in time. A sluggy wet mega-squirt or two, and it was all over… I thought. Seconds later, every blocked. The second coming came so slowly and needed so much input to force it out. And there was a lot of it. A little bleeding from my haemorrhoids, but not as much as yesterday. I remember thinking, ‘Thank heavens that’s done and dusted. I opted to do ablutions in a different pattern this morning. I cleaned where I could reach below the stomach, dried it off, and applied Barrier cream to the lower regions. I went to fetch a pair of PPs. Struggled a while to get them on, then did my teeth, and washed where I could reach,h bodywise. I 
View of the mobile aids storage area. Formerly known as the balcony. Walking frame, walking sticks, wheelchair, square walker, and old 3-wheeled one.
More…
A slight mistake or a few were committed in making this meal. I baked the potatoes for too long, and they were too hard for my terribly truncated, rotting, breaking, falling-out teeth to cope with. RIP to another tooth, which kindly left a little bit of itself in the gum, just to make eating that smidge more painful (as the overcooked, leathery potato skin removed it from attendance in my mouth and sent it down into my gullet for disposal. I’m not looking forward to that exiting on my next Porcelain Throne evacuation! 
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