Shaving while standing in a bowl of antiseptic disinfectant to clean the feet, I could not reach, resulted in a cut-free session! I can’t say the same for teeth cleaning, cracked lips or nose. Oh, and of course, as per usual, , & were leaking the haemoglobin freely.
By the time I’d finished shaving and got myself disentangled from the Dettol-watered bowel, the floor in the wet room was a bloody mess. It reminded me of that bloodied thingy movie in the shower. Psycho, was it called? I used the water in the bowl and tipped it on the floor to brush it down the shower drain on the floor. But I forgot to turn the shower power on to make the drain work. Galore! ensued The first thing was to move the medical stuff away from the water. Naturally, the bending needed set off the final lesion and Harold’s Haemorrhoids bleeding again, just to add to the chaos, pain and increasing frustration that was building up inside me! Then I had to leave the wet room to get to the power switch to turn it on in the hallway… on exiting, I walked into the doorframe, which immediately brought Sweet to life. Crying was considered as an option. As was spitting, cursing and banging my head against the wall. Maybe wailing out as loud as I could… I’m not certain I didn’t actually do that, anyway?
I switched on the power box and hobbled back into the wet room. Gawd Struth! The place looked like an even bigger mess than earlier. The blood was sinking into everything it came in contact with; I just could not move it with the shower spray. So, more pain, I had to use the mop and bucket with bleach and Dettol in the water. But I finally got it looking better. Not properly clean, though. But the domestic help, which was once a week, for 3 weeks. No show for three weeks now. Then, I medicated the delicate areas again. And getting into the protection pants was a smidgen difficult.
She had stiffened up something awful with all the bending and movement she’d been forced into. Just getting the leg in the pants required the use of the picker-upperer, and some cunning tactics had to be employed with this task. I got my bum up against the sink and lowered the pants with the picker-upperer, I needed both hands, so I was taking a bit of a risk if the bum slipped, I was going to go down. The right hand helps lift the leg up high enough, and the left-hand uses the picker-upperer to guide the opening to the foot. On the fifth try, I got the leg in! I had to take a break to recover from the effort. Taking the photo here on the left. Phew! Then getting the left leg in, which was a lot easier in the pants. , was not in such a bad mood. Hehehe! At last, I got the PPs on and slippers on. Only to find out that they had gotten wet and bloodied during the Wet Room Rumble! Aching, hurting, wet, and somewhat peeved off, I checked the taps (faucet) were turned off… and needed another sitting on the . What a change! I cleaned things up yet again. Then, carefully avoiding any shoulder charges on the doorframe, I meandered out to the kitchenette. A thickish fog had descended all over Sherwood, probably further, too. Then I carefully limped to the main (other) room and to the balcony doors, to Kodak Tim the bog from there. It looked a little bit eerie with the blue hue. The Wet Room Farce cost me over 2½ hours, not to mention the pain, blood, and temper not doing my health very good! I didn’t recover properly from the episode. strangely, the tube inserted into poor , calmed down and was less bother for the rest of the day that it’s ever been? Puzzles me this; not complaining!
Sorted the bags out. A new carer arrived.
Made a brew, and started at long last on the blog.
Another new Carer arrived.
A long one! During this, two caregivers called, and I have no memory of them at all! I saw they had signed in the log. Work, albeit messy and error-prone, had been done on the blog. Also, on CorelDraw?
I took these Kodak Tim shots of the wonderful clouds in the slowly darkening sky.
The usual fatigue dawned on me; I’d already got some lamb burgers in the oven. So, I closed down the computer and made myself a much-needed meal. So glad I opted for the lamb.
The catheter day pouch colour was the lightest it’s ever been! But, an hour later when I was getting into the bed… yes the bed, not the itch-creating, bruise-giving, catheter-tube-tugging, crumb-decorated from my nocturnal nibbling, God-awfully uncomfortable, cringingly grotty, no longer working, dirty beige, anti-sleep designed, c1966, second-hand bought for £300 ten years ago from the charity shop, recliner. But the Social people donated an ex-used hospital bed! Initially, kicked off as I settled. Then I worried that I’d left the tap running when I washed the pots, so I got up to check on them, now realising how early I’d settled in the bed; it was not even fully dark out there. So, I got the oven tray I’d missed doing earlier and started to wash it. rang out, and in came Carer Richard. This, as it so often does, left me a smidge—what’s the word? Confused will do. After Richard left, and I was climbing back into the ex-NHS bed, I was in panic mode! Did I turn the taps off? I went to investigate-Cragknangles! The hot water had been left running and ran cold!
I’m hoping for a better day tomorrow!
Hard to believe, but I only managed to find two of them. Sad, innit! Hahaha!,
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – I made a deliberate mistake in this Ode; Ahem! I wrote Further, instead of another word. Would
anyone like to guess what it should have been?
Deliberate mistake… I am a fibber! – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – Much more out-of-it than with-it today.
Moments for sheer frustration, littered with strange, weird, eerie, unaccountable moments of ‘Soditisms’.
During these spasms, I was so high that nothing seemed to bother me in the least. But, they were short and rare and were usually followed by a Depression full of self-loathing, then a realisation that I am to blame for my past guilt. Then, the circle would start again.
I think I’ve mentioned these to the Doctor, but I’m not sure. Maybe not; I’ve not seen her for many months.
On the bright side, the throughout the day, added up to only four!
I left the hot water tap (faucet) running again and burnt the food in the oven. The eyes are terrible nowadays. Any distance and things seem to have another image above themselves. Like a shadow, but clear. I’m looking now through the balcony window, and all the houses look like they have two roofs.
The catheter is a lot less painful than yesterday, mind you. My coughing has also calmed down compared to last night. I’ve walked into nothing. Fair do’s, I’ve dropped the cutlery, saucepan, washing up bottle, picker-upperer, tablets and my pen (four times).
So, all in all, a typical day.
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
Night pouch.
Medicationings.
My ankles look fine.
The first emptying of the day bag.
Opening the balcony windows.
Over the next five hours, the views remained similar. I kept nipping out to take a view or two. Between making a mess of this blog. Gorgeous! Wonderful. Magnificent. Wunderbar!
I was busying away and getting a little done. Caregiver calls only confused me. After they left, I found it nearly impossible at times to get back to what I was working on, often veering off to the wrong project and getting deeper into a mind-muddle. Memory-Blanks were rampant. For some reason, I did not keep up with the memory notes on the pad. Now, so long later (Saturday A.M. started on this section), the photos help prompt me a little. Not many of them, either. Any slight disturbance, change whatever, and I was lost again. Sorry about this
Fifth Catheter Bag Emptying (I think).
Gave up computing. I was in a long-lasting period of haziness. But can recall Carer Christopher arriving. Cheeky-Faced Chris. Hehe! While talking, I remembered I’d left the sausages cooking in the oven… yet again! I hastened hobblingly to the kitchen. Got the mini sausages, which were not burnt too much, into the pan of BBQ beans and tomato sauce with chunky vegetables and stirred while rewarding them, I ate up most of them with two brown baguettes.
I took this night view and got settled into the itch-creating, bruise-giving, catheter-tube-tugging, crumb-decorated from my nocturnal nibbling, God-awfully uncomfortable, cringingly grotty, no longer working, dirty beige, anti-sleep designed, c1966, second-hand bought for £300 ten years ago from the charity shop, recliner, in search of Sweet Morpheus. But the mind would not let me rest enough to capture the bliss of sleep. Immediately started an attack of lambasting, self-hating, repeating so many things, wrong choices I’d made over the tears. Even an occasion that took place when I was just an ankle-biter, which I was not proud about doing… it was horrible being forced to listen to myself, listing and bringing back to mind the shame and self-disgust from the time all those so many years ago. As I tossed and twisted, I felt the Catheter tube pulling on Little Inchie. I realised then that I had not attached the Nocturnal Pouch yet. So, I did!
By the time I’d fumbled about to get the bags linked, my & both went off simultaneously. Miraculously, bearing in mind the viciousness of the leg dance, I didn’t go over or tumble. I’ve not had a fall all week. . I may regret saying this later, Haha!
23:50hrs: Today was not one of my better days: not that I have any better days, of course. Just the odd one, less farcical or more confusing, the odd busy day, seizure day, Out-of-it day. Whoopsiedangleplop and or Accifauxpas days, or a mixture, would be a typical day for me. Today was dominated over all other ailments, but the sheer pain I’m still going through with the Catheter tube in Little Inchie… is more painful for longer periods than it has ever been. Standing up, sitting down, bending, stretching, and hobbling is all agony. Honestly, I’m sitting here typing this, and the stinging pains from Little Inchy are atrocious. I am going to take extra Codeines now; it’s the only thing that touches the pain relief.
I’d risked taking off the PPs in hopes that there would be less irritation pulling on Little Inchie, but the pain just carries on the same. Now, all I want is for the fungal lesion to start bleeding, and I’ll have the right bloody mess to contend with and sort out.
I’d better start the Diary.
04:00hrs: I woke full of life, contented and joyfully… Lying Git!
Urine is even darker.
This is a terrible Kodak Tim kitchen view effort from Inchy. He tried two more, but they were worse. Haha!
Carer Richard arrived. Again, I forgot to ask him to put the diabetic socks on. Tsk!
While starting the blog off, out of the blue, the pain from Little Inchie and the point of the tube entering kicked off. No matter what I tried, the pain persisted. Even took some extra Codeine and Paracetamol, but no effect! It was so bad this time, and persistent with it. Later, I took the PPs off, but it made no difference. It’s wearing me down.
End car park view.
Blogging not going well at all. Concentration crap, and feeling a smidgen sorry for missen.
Carer Selina arrived. She was on a domestic call but didn’t have time to do the hoovering or mopping up, which was all I needed. She insisted on helping me get a wash, shave, etc. It was embarrassing in the extreme. But she was good at the job and knew where and when I needed help, particularly in the getting dressed stage.
I medicated, got the dressing gown on, and she put on the diabetic socks for me. I thank her. Selena took the laundry down for me. Bless her.
Unbelievably, early in the afternoon, the pains still haggling at me, I felt the daily weariness dawn on me again. I made a meal, intending to get some sleep in afterwards.
Carer Marie arrived. She was a little better with her coughing today. I called it the Lurgie, and she said it was called the ’30-Day Cough’. I bet that’s what Sister Jane has got? Marie was still not herself; well, she was. What I meant was she wasn’t her usual bubbly self. But we managed a natter laugh as she tended to me.
I settled in the £300 second-hand shop bought in 1966. Moth-eaten, bedraggled, grotty, cringingly beige-coloured, much-dilapidated, crumb-containing from my nocturnal nibbling, bug-ridden, itch-inspiring, not working recliner, in search of sleep.
Forgetting all about the chips in the oven!
However, I found Sweet Morpheus within minutes. It was bliss… Then Carer Christopher arrived to wake me up. He attached the night pouch, and off he went, all without turning the light on, thoughtful that was. As he was about to leave… … I detected the smell of the burning oven chips! Got up and struggled with the pain from Little Inchie and carrying the night bag to the kitchen. . Too well burnt even for me! I checked each one and rescued three of them to have itch the meal. I substituted some potato chips from a packet and put them on with the three rescued chips. .
The low taste rating was due to the sickly sweet frankfurters I’d bought. Urgh!
I soon polished off fodder, not the frankfurters, though.
I washed the pots, settling down again after getting some sleep. Arrived and immediately noticed the pain I was in. He called someone and told me they thought it might be just an infection. Someone will call to look at it tomorrow. (We’ll see) Kind of him to bother.
Surprisingly, I eventually found sleep. About three hours later, my alarm started. This put an end to any chance of further sleep. I rose, not a little confused as to what time and day it might have been (23:40 hrs).
Nearly falling over the forgotten, I’d got a night bag on the way to the wet room. A bit messy.
I returned to the main room and realised I’d left the nocturnal pouch in the wet room, then emptied it.
I made up the waste bags into one large green one, and although I felt vague, the pains from Littler Inchie seemed less severe. Keep your fingers crossed!
05:10hrs; Got up to get the ablutions done before the Carer arrived. A lousy ablution session… mind you, the evacuation was a good one. Hahaha!
The blogging was another nightmare. mistakes, errors, corrections and frustrations.
It was Sister Jane. Meridian Care had phoned her to see if my Caregiver had arrived yet. Poor Jane is not an early riser—the opposite, actually. She was coughing away; she’s got the Lurgie, too. Naturally, she did not know. I expect a late call this morning. But it doesn’t matter at all to me. We had a natter, and I listened to her problems for a change. She asked why they did not call me. But, to be fair, they may have when I was in the wet room. Also, I’m not sure if my new telephone number has been passed on to them or not. I gave it to the flats Meridian set-up. He came later anyway. No problems.
The pain from Little Inchies Fungal Lesion was horrendous all day long. It didn’t calm down until well late in the night. The Carer saw my state and rang for advice. Said they would send someone to check on it on Monday. We’ll see. – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
Dark, too dark again.
Tried to take a photograph or two of the moon. The first one was fairish, the second warped.
Off to the wet room for a shower, shave and shush.
The preshave medicationalisationing was a fiddly and, at times, painful experience. It was the most painful and medicating session ever! Things have not been right down there since the last nurse replaced the catheter. I don’t need to move, and he hurts! If I could, I’d bottle the pain and send it to the Doctors with a note: “Here you are, try some of this now will you listen to me and help?”
Ablutions were sorted, alarm wristlets and alert bands on, and my ear holes were olive oiled. I struggled to stop stopped and creamed. , Cream on the . Barrier Creamed all around . Then tended to the bruise from the INR blood drain. Doesn’t usually show up this bad The feet & ankles were looking healthier. I turned to leave with the waste bin in hand and traditionally gave the door frame a charge with my right shoulder, setting off a few minutes’ worth of pain from .
Worst Ablution Session in a long time.
Took the made up bin gag to the front door. Can you see a face in the carrier bag? Think of Red Dwarf’s Kryten’s face. I could see it. Hehe!
The carer was late, not that it mattered. Half an hour later, the landline rang out, making me jump. It was Sister Jane. Meridian Care had phoned her to see if my Caregiver had arrived yet.
I concentrated on the hard slog of blogging for hours and hours; just not very successfully. Little Inchie was so painful at times, which did not help me concentrate on blogging. Humph!
Carer Kimberley arrived. She could not give me any painkillers because it had not been 4 hours between calls. So I took some Paracetamols. The pain from poor Little has never been worse. I took off the PPs I put on after washing, hoping it would not irritate things as much. But no, it’s just as bad now. With not having the pants on, I caught myself catching the catheter tube more often; AARGH!
What an amazing hue!
Despite the discomfort and sheer agony from little , the wee was flowing freely.
I added a packet of PP’s to the Asda order for Tuesday. I tried some different kinds this time
Carer Israel arrived while I was struggling to walk into the kitchen and showed his concern for me. That was nice. He rang someone and spoke to them. 111 probably. He told me they said it was likely to be an infection and a nurse would be calling to check it out tomorrow. Bless his cotton socks. He also had a quick sweep-up in the kitchen for me when he saw how painful it was for me to bend, stretch, bend, walk and keep a hold on things. I much appreciated his efforts.
Back on the blog. Then noticed how bright it looked outside, and I took this truly wonderful shot with … I love this one. . Bootiful!
. Zoomed-in shot. . Wider shot.
Burnt to perfection! Just how I love them to be.
. What a magnificent view, From my kitchen window, too, I’m pleased with these two, I went into Smug-Mode, anywho, Not a smudge, blotch or curlicue, Decent sky shots were overdue, Best view, hitherto!
