00:30hrs: I woke with the usual for the last few days, desperation for the Porcelain Throne! I bruised the leg getting out of the recliner with such haste (I was not going to let another accident happen like last week if I could avoid it!) I got there in time, but only just. An even bigger evacuation today! But no mess, and only a bit of bleeding, that I think came from Harold’s Haemorrhoids, so nothing to fret over. And, far less pain than yesterday. I washed and disinfected things, and feeling a tad-smug, I poddled to the kitchen.
I got the medications imbibed, and made brew of flavourful Glengettie tea. Then pressed on with the updating of the Thursday post. Which cost me a few hours (6). The photos I’d taken in Winwood Court yesterday, and the lack of concentration (the brain was jumping all over a failing to concentrate) being the main causes. The finger’s and right-side neurotransmitter transmissions to the brain were working reasonably well this morning. Another possibly over-confident Smug-Mode adopted.
I went on Facebooking with the TFZ Zone. Answered a comment. And put some pictures from the Winwood Court session on Pinterest and Facebook.
Made a brew and took the medications. Back to the computerisationing, made a start on this blog.
Then off to get the ablutions tended to.
The pins (legs) had gone almost yellow! Hehe! I think it must have been the colouring in the wetroom that caused this. Or the camera was set-up wrongly, or I was losing it.
Did some handwashing, done, wrung and hung. Took some gags to the waste chute. Got wrapped up and ready to go out. Had a panicky double and treble checking everything before leaving the flat.
Took some jars for recycling down with me, and met Steve, the caretakers at his door outside. We had a minute’s chinwagging. Then I poddled to the bus stop, and Cyndy joined me en route. As anticipated, a large gang of Winwoodonians were there. Jean-Mary, Penny, Chrissie, Joan, Welsh William, Big Pete etc. were chatting away.
I caught the Bestwood bound bus with a few others, all of them got off in Sherwood, apart from Jean-Mary and me. We had the usual hit & miss talk en route into Arnold.
We both went into the Asda (Walmart) store. I was suffering from Dizzy Dennis’s attentions, and staggering about a bit, but pressed on, arriving later at the self-serve checkout. I noticed a new checkout system had been built, title Swipe & Go? I came out with vine tomatoes, wholemeal bread rolls, a milk roll loaf, two yoghourts, milk and cox’s apples. A lot of the food had gone up in price. Suddenly, the already costly £1.30 cobs were £1.35, the yoghourt had gone up, and I noticed many other goods on the shelves had increased in price?
I paid up, left and made my way to the Fulton Foods shop. Where I spent a bit more on; sterilised milk (2), beetroot (2), Galaxy darker-milk chocolate bars with hazelnuts (8), Battered fish fingers and fishcakes (The meal for tonight?), and cooked beef misshapes £1.
I paid the depressed-looking lady on the till and got the trolley bag filled and two carriers, one on each handlebar, evenly balanced. Which was a lot more than I was. Then Shaking Shaun joined us, the right leg and arm. This mad pushing the trolley to the bus stop an exciting event. Going over the pedestrian crossing, the shakes made me stop for a few seconds, or I would have tumbled over had I carried on, luckily no traffic was around at the time.
I arrived at the bus stop, and Jean-Mary was sat in the shelter with her trolley. The first thing she said was: “Yo’ alright? yer don’t look too good?” She was right. I didn’t fell up too much at all. The journey on the bus back to the flats memory is a little thin. I’m sure I was nattering to someone as well as Mary-Jean, but can’t think who. Then I do remember waking up several times and nodding off again. Hehe!
Even the walk from the bus back to the flats and apartment is a little vague.
When I got inside, I do recall struggling to get the three-wheeler through the door, then my recollections become more distinct. Even though, Dizzy Dennis and peripheral neuropathy leg were I felt, warming up for a Neuropathic Schuhplattler drop-something and flail-about dance (I was wrong, it didn’t).
Taking out the food to put away, I got the oven on and put in some fish cakes, then, ten minutes later, added the battered fish fingers, to ensure they would be cooked ready at the same time. Heated the peas in the saucepan, made up some milk Roll tomato sarnies, sliced apple and beetroot on the plate. I made up a bottle of spring water with a little added orange cordial.
The landline sounded and flashed, so I answered it. It was Sister Jane, asking if all was okay. She couldn’t get through to me earlier and rang Warden Deana. The mobile phone battery has had its chips, so she could not get through to me on that. Good of her to worry about me, bless her cotton socks.
Served it up, and feasted fervently! A decidedly worthy taste-rating of 7.5/10 given for this effort.
I cleared things away and did the washing up, and as I got settled down to watch some TV, I had to suddenly visit the Porcelain Throne. For, in a word, a ‘Ginormous’ evacuation.
The pins looked almost normal! These photographs of my ever-changing legs, really ought to be on display in the Tate gallery you know! Hahaha!
23:35hrs: I woke up, probably instigated by Shaking Shaun in the first place. He continued to give me the shuddering-shakes for a few minutes, as I tried to grasp for a grip on some sanity. The awareness and control of my contumacious, recusant and largely uninterested mind, fought against any more input.
As the shakes became manageably calmer, a beseeching call to the GPWWB (Grey-Plastic-Wee-Wee-Bucket) arrived. I mused on how terrible a day yesterday was for me (Self-pity sneaking in there again? Tsk!), and took an SSBDKWTSD (Short-Sharp-But-Didn’t-Know-When-To-Stop-Dribbling) Wee-wee. While waiting for the dribbling to stop, I realised that once again, the big three, Duodenal Donald, Arthur Itis and Anne Gyna, were all acting calm for me. Smug-Mode-Adopted! Little inchy eventually stopped his trickling, just as the urgent call to the Porcelain Throne came.
Unfortunately, I tripped over the walking stick as I turned to make my way to the wet room! This being my own fault entirely, as when I dropped the stick on the floor last night, getting into the recliner, I was so low and pissed-off, I thought, Sod it! And I left it there! Justice was done! I got myself up on my feet again with some effort, and muttered some silent, self-denigrationalistic and naughty words, tutted and got myself to the WC post haste!
The session’s leading descriptive words would be; Massive, Painful, Solid, Flesh-tearing, Bloody and yet quick! The colossal amount of evacuated product was the most surprising factor. I’ve had only half-a-pork-pie in the last 39 hours (Just not hungry? Mostest peculiar for me), and visited the Throne last night getting rid of a right dollop, and now this torpedo of considerable size has come this morning? Ah-well, I’m glad it’s gone! The volume was so much, that again the system didn’t clear things the first flush. With this loo taking 40 minutes to refill the tank, I’ll nip back later and give it another go.
I got the computer on, Virgin was working, slowly, but working. I answered some comments (1), from Bill in the USA. As I was doing so, the neuropathy and autonomic nerves in the arm, fingers and hand played up, and I must have lost control altogether, cause somehow I’d made this comment go to ‘Spam’? No idea how I did it. But I could not get it back, I went into Comments and okayed it, but it didn’t show on the list? I think I got to answer it in the end, it was about toe stubbing.
I had a sneezing bout, passed wind, and needed the bucket again. But I needn’t have bothered for it was a DAAOJ (Drip-And-All-Over-Job!) Then I set to updating the gloomy, sad Christmas Day blog. It took me a few hours, and I didn’t need a wee-ee or the Throne all the way through!
I did afterwards though, well, a wee-wee. I went to the WC for this one, taking the bucket with me, to be emptied and disinfected.
I took a shot of the pins (legs) when I got back. They were rather pale compared to yesterday. The Deep vein Arterial Thrombosis, Varicose and spider veins and blood papules all seemed less protruding, too.
I went on the Email and had received one from Sister Jane. This clarified what xyrophobia-suffering Brother-in-Law Pete had been diagnosed with. It is Follicular Lymphoma. I looked it up: is a type of non-Hodgkin lymphoma (NHL). It develops when the body makes abnormal B-cells – the lymphoma cells. B-cells are white blood cells that fight infection. The lymphoma cells usually build up in lymph nodes, but FL can start in any part of the body.
Another description I found was: (Blood Cancer) Follicular lymphoma (FL) is typically a slow-growing or indolent form of non-Hodgkin lymphoma (NHL) that arises from B-lymphocytes, making it a B-cell lymphoma. This FL is the most common sub-type of low grade (indolent-otiose) lymphoma and accounts for 20 to 30% of all NHL cases.
So, I can understand Jane and Pete being a little more content now. Marvellous news!
Back to the blogging work, and got the 25th’s post sent off to WordPress. Not many pictures on it, but I sent them to Pinterest.
I made a start on this publication and then nipped back in to try flushing the WC again. It seems to have cleared the Dongfeng-41 (DF-41, CSS-X-10) ICBM sized evacuation for me. I took a photo of the pins while I was in there. Still the same, pale but with fewer lumpinesses, and far less varicose and spider veins showing.
The work of the Age Concern Assured Quality decorator can be seen in the background on the door. I’m so glad I believed them and used this bloke! Reassuring to have Age Concern UK to help you. Humph!
I then went on to the WordPress Reader. Got a message from Tim in New Mexico and replied. It made me laugh out loud! Then I went on the TFZer Facebooking page. Then turned everything off, and tended to the coenaculous fancies, and I had a nibble, buttered two wholemeal cobs and ate them with the last of the pork pie and a cuppa.
Black bags were taken to the chute. Carpet cleaning duties.
Off on an ablutionisationing mission. Which was erm… interesting to say the least. With the polyneuropathy neurotransmitters, which had been acting so infrequently up to now, I was caught out with their sudden loss of insensitivity to touch, and a record amount of dropsies were the result. Razors, shaving cream, toothbrush, mouthwash bottle, flannel, carbolic soap, loofa, nail brush, towels to name just a few! And the sock-glide battle must have taken me longer than it took to pick the cotton and make the socks! No injuries, though. Still, I didn’t mind, for today I planned on visiting the Winwood Court rooftop, and meeting someone to talk to.
I got ready, and off I poddled with the new three-wheeler, the one with lousy brakes, on the new Winwood Court photographicalisation walkabout. I took a snap of the electronic notice sign outside the lift, catching it just as the picture message was changing. The light rain stayed on all day.
The main noticeboard I perused.
No Dizzy Dennis or Shaking Shaund visitations up to now, and that thought brought a smile to my moustached, pot-marked treble-chinned face! Haha!
I went through the swipe door, into the welcoming warmth of the Winwood Court link corridor.
I still haven’t been on the alfresco seating benches outside since it was built. The weather has not been kind, but, if I last long enough, I hope to sit out there doing my crossword puzzles, with a flask of tea in the sunshine. This made me wonder, ‘Where did I put the flask? I hobbled on through the tellurian-free link passageway, into Winwood Court proper, keeping an eye out for any other tenants to trap and chinwag with. Hehehe! I went through to the big social area where the kitchen is, that is always popular with the Winwood Heights residents. I thought about Mo, who’s in the hospital, and pictured her smiling face. This lowered my spirits a little. There were no people about in there either. I went back out into the Winwood lobby, and got in the elevator, going up to the rooftop level and the amazingly warm, snug social area. I took a picture in the lift as it went up. It was heartwarming to see the facilities provided for the extra-care residents. They also have a podiatrist on-site visits as well.
The elevator had a voice alert messager that is loud enough for most people to hear. The mechanics are silent when the lift moves, no shuddering and scraping noises like Woodthorpe Courts lifts either. As I exited the lift, into the wonderful Sky Lounge, I took this photo. It really is a delightful autonomous environment and comfortable area to visit. Not that anyone was in there again. It was so clean and attractive; but abandoned, unwanted and ignored by those it was built for. I have only seen two people, at the same time, on all my six visits since it was opened. Then, I remembered what time of year it was, I’m quick sometimes. Hehe! I moved towards the press-button exit door, but I diverted to take a snap of Woodthorpe Court through the window first.
A lot of the gang will be visiting family, or away on holiday, so there is little chance of seeing anyone in Winwood or Woodthorpe Court today. But I still hope to get a little nattering in if possible. I moved out into the drizzle on the Rooftop Terrace and took piccies of the still blocked and leaking drains on the roof.
I pictured Winchester Court at the end of the complex. By then, the rain was soaking into my coat, so I returned back inside out of the light, soak-you-through rain.
The ailments were being good to me, as I went down in the warm, non-shuddering, working lift (As opposed to the Woodthorpe lifts, Hahaha!). As the doors opened on the ground floor into the lobby, I exited and took these photographs of the extra-decorated lobby.
I hobbled along the link-passageway towards my beloved Woodthorpe Court, that lies somewhere between the twilight zone and a wormhole slipping through a tear in the fabric of the universal ozone & the spacetime continuum, illusion, delusion, & hallucination-ridden apartment. With its leaking taps, dodgy flushing WC! and finger-trapping metal spring, balcony window openers.
Not a soul was encountered on my lonely little lethargic solo photographicalisationing sojourn! Ah, well! Has the world come to an end? Nowt about it on the internet! Hehehe! Through the swipe door, into the cold foreboding Woodthorpe Court lift lobby.
On the notice board, I saw this poster. The last Tuesday of every month, it seems, that the ILCs (Independent Living Coordinators) will be available, hanging on the noticeboard in the lift lobby (here?), to discuss any issues? Haha!
I observed, that the Christmas tree was no longer at the end of the lift lobby? So I had a poddle around into the entrance lobby in a search for the tree.
Ah, there it was.
Underneath the hanging from the ceiling electric cable, in the back corner of the lobby.
I went to get the lift, and Anne Gyna started giving me a bit of bother.
Up and back to the flat, and for some reason, I felt all-done-in? No reason for this? Mmm!
I got the handwashing done, wrung and hung as the pasties heated up in the oven. I went into the wet room…
Jane & Pete in their front room (Haha!)
The landline light lit and flashed. It was xyrophobia-suffering Brother-in-Law Pete. He complained that I had got things wrong about his B-cell lymphoma cancer. I was admonished for writing 2,500 other people are sufferers, it was 250! He did not want his exclusivity to be questioned and wanted to know why I had got it wrong. I told him I had already written a bit on today’s blog, correcting things. But he was not happy about it! I mentioned how does he always, but every time, call me when I’m having a phoo, shower, shave, sleeping, cooking or on the floor cleaning up when he calls me. I jokingly said; Are you still using the home-made drones before ringing? He laughed maniacally, I heard him spit, then he replied, “Yes, and the clandestine CCTV cameras wot I fitted!” Hahaha!
He dropped his tea, at the same time as I thought I’d left the tap running. I said ‘I’m off to check’ and he’d gone when I got back. I rang back and we had a chinwag.
I got the nosh prepared and served up. Cheesy spud-mash, beetroot, garden peas with demerara sugar and the mini beef pasties.
This went down a treat, despite my battling to stay awake while eating it all. Well, all bar one of the beetroot’s that was hard, like a ball-bearing! An 8/10 Taste-Rating.
I did the washing up and had an INHBBT (I-Needn’t-Have-Bothered-Barely-Trickling) wee-wee. took the medications. Got changed and into the £300, second-hand, near-dilapidated, gungy-beige coloured, c1968, sometimes working, uncomfortable, rickety, rinky-dinked, rattling, rusty, resurrected, reconditioned, recalcitrant, recidivating and rotting-away recliner, to watch a movie on the TV.
It started, it was crap, I fell asleep, and stayed akip for six hours! Great! No wee-weeing or Procelain calls, no nocturnal nibbling, no noises to wake me up and no dreaming to bother me, as far as I recall! Very appreciated and welcome!
23:50hrs: I woke, pondered, tried and failed to get the mind functioning, passed-wind and realised (as is so frequent at my vivification times lately), the need for a wee-wee was my expergefactor. I roused the brain then the body, the body was the easier of the two to inspire into semi-life. Arthur Itis, Anne Gyna and Duodenal Donald were all taking a break, which cheered me a bit. You wouldn’t believe the ease with which I got out of the second-hand, £300, c1968 recliner! The right peripheral neuralgia leg was giving signs of a possible upcoming involuntary Neuropathic Schuhplattler drop-something and flail-about dance routine. The tiny twitches were the signs.
I got to the overnight well-used, but I can’t remember doing so bucket. Another half-hearted, but slightly painful evacuation, of the PWWDIB (Pathetic-Weak-Why-Did-I-Bother) mode.
While waiting for the dribble to terminate, I mused over the situation. If after five minutes of non-stop passing, I’d managed only a couple of fluid ounces; then how many times had I needed to get up and to have utilised the GPWWB overnight, to find it so full now? And, why do I not remember waking, getting up, wee-weeing, and getting my grossly-stomached body back in or onto the rickety recliner? Mind you, I did wonder why I found that I’d had left the walking stick on top of the clothes airer?
No tea-making this morning, I washed out and disinfected the bucket and returned it handily near the computer, and got the computer on to update the Tuesday blog. But my concentration was not good this morning at all. The neuropathy and autonomic nerves in the arm and hand were not playing up much, more the shoulder at the moment, but things can change. It’s the brain causing the aggro.
After about an hour of updating, the usual sudden and urgent need for the Porcelain Throne arrived! I was not going to risk any delay, after the other day, so, I grabbed the stick and moved towards the door. Two or three supported paces and Arthur Itis came to life with a vengeance! Everything changed, the pain was chronic and stiffness too. But I had to get to the Throne at all costs. I limped on to the wet room.
No messing, dressing gown thrown off, PP’s down and got seated. Apart from the oversized amount, things went well. Hardly any bleeding, and what there was looked like it was from Harold’s Haemorrhoids. Minimum pain as well. It was as good a session as could be expected. But the system did not clear things when I flushed it. So, hand filling the water box, I got it ready to go again, and this time it cleared things. Phew!
I got some fresh PPs on and noticed the old ankle ulcer wound was looking a bit lively if that is the word. A lot more colour in the pins as well. I got the camera and took a snap of the legs. On closer inspection, the ulcer didn’t seem so bad after all. The damned scary to look at thrombophlebitis and the deep vein arterial thrombosis (phlebitis) was getting prominent again. I got the Phorpain gel and gave both knees a jolly-good massaging with it, I’ll take an extra Codeine 30g as well.
It’s funny how easily and quickly things it can change from day-to-day. The blood papules and Clopidogrel maculations don’t seem to bad. When it came to me putting this picture on many hours later, I thought I might have a new ulcer coming underneath the old one? This may shortly mean a visit to the Anticoagulation Haemostasis Deep Vein Arterial Thrombosis Clinic, a mouthful, but I love typing it for some obscure reason. Hahaha!
Then, as I was washed and about to leave the wetroom, and it’s even harder for me to believe, but I spotted the camera lens cover that I had searched in the wet room for, four times to find last night! This is also worrying. Let’s look back over the last week, at the cock-ups from Inchcock. No, I’d better not, I feel an inefficacious, inferior, inefficient, inept, insalubrious idiot in life, as it is. No need to make myself feel even worse than I already do.
I spent many hours on the computer, making many errors, mistakes and correctionalisationing so often, it drove me mad.
Then, I had a visit from both Dizzy Dennis and Shaking Shaun, and that was the end of any rememberable events, as I settled for a sit-down and recuperative rest. Where I stayed for several hours, not being able to sleep due to the shakes of Shaun, and no chance of logical thought, thanks, Dennis!
I was just feeling ready for sleep as Shaun was easing off, and the landline flasher burst forth. I knew it had to be xyrophobia-suffering Brother-in-Law Pete, who else would know when to call at the optimum time to annoy me! I’m still convinced that when he damaged the recliner, while he was flat-sitting when I was in the Stroke Ward, that he fitted new clandestine CCTC cameras. He searched for my valuables, which he found and took. I got a bit of them back seven-months later, he had deposited some in his bank account for ‘Safe Keeping’, pawned some of the old bank-notes, and gave many of old coins to his favourite charity (?).
My part in the conversation was acataphasia-ridden, and with the brain not taking everything in, this is only a sketch of the conflab we had; Yesterday, the lad went to the hospital for his test results. NAL diagnosed (the final and longest section of the small intestine. It is attached to the colon). Ilieum Inftona (the third portion of the small intestine, between the jejunum and the caecum). It is slow-growing, and the doctors plan to do a yearly check on his colon. Which is not bad considering what it might have been. The thing that actually pleased the nihilist, was when they told him there were only 240,000 sufferers in the country. That’s done it! As if Pete needed proof of his individuality and Specialness! Hahaha! I was pleased for him, you’ll probably read in the Nottingham Post or hear on Radio Nottingham soon, Nottingham Man with a rare disease offers TV reporters a special-interview rate (£50 an hour) and tours around his home! (£55 plus VAT and £5 fro a cup of tea) Sorry, Pete, I couldn’t resist that!
My appetence for sleep was even stronger when I got back down in the recliner. My insomnia probably came from my nocturnality? Yet I did not actually feel too tired, just drained, depressed and a smidge of self-pity.
At least this Christmas Day I’d got a phone call; I’d not seen or spoke directly with anyone of course, but this is perfectly normal, and I don’t think affected me low spirits at all. Then the facinorous ‘Thought-Blasting’ came again. Then Shaking Shaun returned to join Dizzy Dennis, at least this stemmed the flood of confusing fears, worries, regrets and self-justifications and vindications. But still no chance of any sleep, so I turned on the TV, to pretend to be a normalish person, and watch the traditional holiday film of Dicken’s, A Christmas Carol, with Alastair Sim as Scrooge. I’d watched it, I don’t know how many times since it was first made in 1951, but annoyingly I stayed awake all the way through! Humph!
Dizzy Dennis and Shaking Shaun continued to batter my oleogustustic body. Sleep resisted my efforts. I’d been up for around fifteen hours now. Bored, missing my chinwags and hobbles, generally feeling crestfallen, dejected, down-in-the-dumps and so annoyed at myself for some reason, or reasons!
I felt the need for the Porcelain Throne come on. Which, considering that all I’d had to eat was my traditional Christmas day very-large piece of pork pie all day? Out of the recliner, it was dodgy getting to the wet room, thanks to Dennis and Shaun. I then spent I don’t know how long, sat on the Throne, waiting for the action to start. I did my best, grunting and grimacing, had a go at the crossword book. Eventually, I gave-up, feeling trepidation, frustration and absumption. Had a wash, and weakly, I hobbled back to the recliner.
Dropping the stick as I sat down, stubbed my toe against the recliner’s metal foot, and wanted to cry. But I didn’t. Instead, I left the stick where it had fallen, plumped onto the chair, I silently cursed life, and tried to nod off to sleep, again. Futility came to mind, accompanied by an acceptance of the situation?
The stinging from the middle toe demanded some relief, so I rubbed in some of the Phorpain gel and then dropped the tube from my fingers as the finger-end neurotransmitters failed. I used the handily placed on the other seat kitchen towels, to wipe up the gel from the seat cover, floor my stomach and legs. Of course, bending down to get the gel off of the carpet, merely set-off Dizzy Dennis again, who had been calm, as the stubbed toe replaced him in the urgency stakes.
Depression and exasperation reigned, mangling their way deeply through, into my grey-cell box.
22:35hrs: I woke full of guilt at letting down the sweet phlebotomy nurse, Christina, yesterday. I continue not liking myself this morning. Grumph!
I was forced to rise out of the c1968, second-hand, nauseously-beige-coloured, rickety recliner, to make my way to the GPWWB (Grey-Plastic-Wee-Wee-Bucket), for a weak, SS (Short-Sprinkly) wee-wee. As it ended, the sudden urgent demand for the Porcelain Throne arrived. I grabbed the stick and hastened to the wet room. By Jiminy, it was a close call again! But, the evacuation, although it was a tad painful and quick, it wasn’t messy at all, just a few smatterings of blood. Just about what I deserved with my messing Christina about, I thought.
I took both sets of medications, being as I had yet again forgotten to take last night’s. Humph!
With a determination, I set about updating the Monday post. I had an idea for a stand-alone post on the Nottingham Street Art I’d pictured yesterday, so meant to get on quickly… but:
After a long time. I don’t think I got it back on; it returned of its own accord. I typed as fast as my ailments would allow me to…
But:
I was getting frustrated now. So did some CorelDrawing. Then the internet returned. Phew! I got on and finally finished the post and got it sent off. Finally making a start on the new post
Then:
When Mr (well paid) Fries, Liberty-Global Virgin Media came back on a long time later, it was super fast! For about ten minutes! Then I went back to its struggling to keep up!
I pressed on with the photo-funny comment blog. Gawd, it took me hours and hours to get done! But I got there.
It was time to get the ablutions done. I had to get them done earlier than usual, in case the Angel nurse Christina came again, I pray she does. Off to the wet room, then.
But I got sidelined when I took the mug to the kitchen for cleaning, and I got carried away doing the handwashing first. The jammie bottoms, socks and a long-sleeved shirt. I anticipate that the jammie bottom should be dry enough to be moved onto one of the airers by about February next year. Huh! The right hand has lost a lot of strength since the onset of the peripheral neuropathy, then and the stroke. I did my bestest to wring them out, I was not very successful. Still, I don’t think it makes anything worst by trying. That bit of effort I make, might even be slowing things down on the idiopathic neurotransmitter problem?
Well, that was totally different from the last session. I knocked the stuff off of the floor cabinets again, so many things went on the floor! Two little knicks shaving, dropped the toothbrush, carbolic soap several times, the flannel, the shower-head, and all bar fell over getting the trousers on! The sock-glide battle ended up with me getting a few bruises. Pee’d-off Mode Adopted!
I took a photo of my legs, and cannot find the lens cover anywhere now! Still, at least the pins are looking a bit betterer this morning. Arthur Itis. Duodenal Donald, Reflux Roger, Hernia Henry, Shaking Shaun, Back-Pain-Brenda, and even Saccades Sandra and her oculomotor dysfunction are all being kind to me. Anne Gyna and Dennis are making up for the inactivity of the others, mind. Tsk!
Then I ripped my trousers when I bent down to put the slippers on! Gawd, Blimey!
I began to update this post. 10:25hrs now, no sign of the Blood Angel. So it looks like I’m in trouble again. Oh, dear!
I visited the WordPress Reader. Had to stop when the intercom chimed up. A male nurse had come to take my blood. I didn’t need my EQ to tell me he was not happy. He tooketh the haemoglobin, and I offered him a drinky for Christmas. He chose a Whisky & Coke, half-smiled, wished me happy Christmas and was off.
I got the things ready to catch the bus to town, to get some replacement trousers.
I didn’t realise it then, but I do now,
I’d forgotten to put the camera in my pocket,
When it dawned, I said Crap and Holy Cow!
How do I get through life? But I stumble through, somehow!
I made my way down and dropped off the bags in the chute en route, and saw the Caretaker Stewart and had a quick natter. Then, along the link-corridor to the warmer Winwood Court lobby and through to the big social room
Where I bumped into Nottingham City Home’s Generalfeldmarschalless Housing Patch Manager/Catwalk-Model, Angela Gould, who twinkled her eyes at me, told me off about something or other, then waltzed away with a taller, younger, better-looking, fitter, cleverer, educated, richer, confident, had his own hair and a full set of teeth, bloke. Who was not wearing hearing aids and could walk without medical aids. Humph! Spit! Hehe!
Spoke with John-Herbert, then made my way out to the bus stop. Mary-Jean, Chrissie, May and many other tenants were gathered, and I had a listen to the gossip and handed out the nibbles. Getting on the L9 to town, and getting out the crossword book after depositing my bottom in a side-saddle seat.
As we arrived in town, I realised that I had not got my camera with me. Crap and Holy Cow! What a pitifully-inadequate, imbecilic, dotty, docile, memory-challenged toss-pot!
I went into the battle-ground known as the Poundsaver Store. I was battered and barged, trod on, shoulder-charged walked into, and nearly knocked over a few times, as the gentle Nottinghamian’s around, cursed and fought each other to get things from the half-empty shelves. It was a shame I went in really. If I had not torn my trews earlier, I would not be in town now! Grumph!
I got to the self-serve tills and came out with various things. Dettol, more Toffifees, Ginster Beef pattie, some eau de cologne, smoked almonds, woolly-bob-caps and orange digestive biscuits. I paid up in cash after the machine refused to accept my card!
I was so annoyed with myself as I saw endless photographicalisationing opportunities I could not respond to, on my way into the Victoria Centre, where the Salvation Army Band were giving it some stick with the Christmas tunes. I risked life and limb to get to the lift to go up to the Victoria Market. The elevator cage went between the first floor, down to the Market level, ground floor (where I was), and down to the car park below. The first few times it came, it was cram-packed and I just waited patiently, while having my ankles repeatedly clouted by pram wheels from behind. Eventually, I got in the cage. But had to up to the 2nd level, all the way down to the car park, and back up where I started, the ground floor, then down to the car park again, and finally to the market level. As I got out, I left to Tut-tutting, and a loudly spoken, ‘Old folks with walkers shouldn’t be let in when it’s so busy” for some unknown reason?
I hobbled to Abdhul’s stall to get my trews. But it was all abandoned now in there, many stalls emptied out. So sad. Abdul looked lonely and depressed when I arrived. And, he only had two pairs of trousers in my size! I’ve used this stall for years, and most trips he would offer a choice of five or six pairs, if not more for me to choose from. Sad times for the lad. I bought them, despite the grotty colours, and then repeated the farce to get back down in the elevator. Shame I can’t manage the escalator nowadays. This time a lady helped me sort out which floor I was on, I had to laugh at my own confusion.
I got to Queen Street and met a lady from our beloved Woodthorpe Court, that lies somewhere between the twilight zone and a wormhole slipping through a tear in the fabric of space & the spacetime continuum, illusion, delusion, & hallucination! That frequently has only one lift working, most taps are leaking, toilets that take well over an hour to refill after being flushed, blocked wet room drains, windows that are lethal to open, a fire alarm only 50% of residents can hear... oh, I got carried away there, sorry!
The lady and I had a sort of chinwag as best we could en route home. (Hearing problems!) I’ve spoken with the lady a few times. She is a classy woman, and so nice natured and puts up with me well. We exchanged seasonal greetings, as I left the lift.
Got in the apartment and got the things out of the bag and carrier.
I hung the trews up in the window to decrease them a little and added the hand-washed shirt from earlier, which was dry enough to start airing.
The earlier handwashing was not ready, not dry enough yet to move over the radiator. Especially the jammie bottoms.
I got the oven heating up for the beef pastie and chips to be cooked.
Had a look at the TV schedule, and found some things I fancied viewing.
When the kiln had reached 220° I put the McCain original oven chips in to cook. As you can see, there was the odd blighted chip, that needed removing first. I went through the remaining chips in the bag afterwards and found a dozen more of them. As the McCain advert says: ‘It’s no wonder they’re often called the perfect teatime chip’ Hmm? I wonder if Liberty-Global Virgin Media are connected with McCains? They both might be competition to tell the biggest lies in their adverts? They’ll have to go some to beat Liberty-Global, they are as good as politicians at dishonest, deceitful, false claims!
A proper feast this meal was. Beef pastie, tomatoes, beetroot and a portion of McCain’s blight removed chips. With caramelised onion chutney, wholemeal bread thins and some German smoked Bavarian ham that was just out of date, but tasted fine. Some fresh orange juice for afters. Flavour Rating: 8.4/10, super!
I washed the dishes, had a weak wee-wee, and got down in time to watch the Tremors ‘5’ film, that I had not seen before. The earlier ones I found hilarious, even though they were not meant to be comedies methinks.
The first set of advertisements came on, and I drifted off. Humph! I wanted to watch that one as well! Sulk-Mode-Instigated!
22:30hrs: I stirred, I involuntarily passed wind. Then sneezed, which seemed to move things along in the innards, and found myself suddenly in need of the Porcelain Throne!
With growing urgency, I fumbled to get my onerously overweight oxen-like, but wobbly torso from the recliner. Caught my balance, grabbed the stick, and limped precariously to the wet room.
But oh, dear! I didn’t make it in time! Red-Faced, I went into an SSE (Shamefaced-Sheepish-Embarrassed) Mode! I don’t want to dwell on this, just think squashed-black-beans, escaped before I could get seated. Once down on the plastic, I noticed a couple of the ‘black beans’ on the floor! Toes curled, winces, were winced, and fingers pinched at the shame of it! The evacuation began, and stalled part-way again! I had to apply painful pressure, helped by a few muttered exclamations like argh, eek, Ooohoho!, args, and Glory-Be! The shame of it! I initially blamed my taking the Compound Macrogol Oral Powder Sachet last evening. But I don’t know.
After things started moving again, the relief was blessed! The system coped well with the flushing. Then I got on with the cleaning and medicating. I was almost so worn-out afterwards, I felt like going back and getting my head-down again! Humph!
I shuffled to the kitchen and put the kettle on. As I got the medications out, I decided falteringly about taking Marogol anymore, but not with any conviction.
I took a morning, zoomed-in picture of the roads and light on view. When I got around to uploading this, I realised what a mess I’m made of it. Not the part of the picture I intended to take at all, blurry, horrible effort too. Huh! What a start to the day! I’m now scared to, incapable and getting dangerous in using the Porcelain Throne. Found out I am a useless Herbert at photography. I have just spotted that I missed taking the evening medications! My confidence is now at a low ebb, I’m enfeebled, reticent and despondent. And I’ve only been up for less than two hours or so. Grumble-Sodit-Blast!
I made the tea, took the medications with me to take later, at the computer, and made a start on updating the Sunday blog. Then, before I’d made a start, the wee-weeing belatedly started! I think I may have worn out the carpet and walking stick rubber end today, taking so many four-step treks to and from the GPWWB (Grey-Plastic-Wee-Wee-Bucket)! Haha! Every one of them of the torrential then faltering BTTTFA (Blasting-out-Then-Tricklling-For-Ages) mode!
I pressed on getting the updating done. (In between Wee-weeing and making cups of tea, I have a hellish thirst on me today?) I hope this eases, so I can get out. Finalised the blog and sent it off. Then I went on the WordPress Reader. Facebooking on the TFZers next.
I turned all off, then I tended to the ablutions. And an excellent, limited dropsies session it was, too! As I can recall, only the toothbrush and a few razor dropsies suffered! Swank-Mode-Adopted!
The pins (legs) were looking much betterer, and the fluid retention had gone down a lot, too. Double-Smug-Mode-Adopted!
Oh, by the way, there was no toe-stubbing either!
But, I totally forgot about the Haematology Nurse Christina coming today. When I got home from town later and saw her note put through the door, I felt so disgusted with myself, you wouldn’t believe it! Crabs and Grobblecraps! I seethed with frustration, self-hatred and the most infuriating disgruntlement! So much so, that Duodenal Donald kicked off giving me a lot of deserved discomfort! Spit!
I got all warmly dressed. Checked the flat for anything missed, not done, or done that shouldn’t have been, taps (faucets), lights, oven, heaters etc. and got the three-wheeler walker guide, and off I trundled. I took the black bags to the waste chute on the way out.
Down in the lift, and along the link passage into Winwood Court. (It’s lovely and warm in there). I called in the ILC (Independent Living Coordinator) Warden’s Holding Cell, and Interrogation office handed out some nibbles. As I was leaving, Mary (Jean), was coming through on her way to the bus stop. So I asked her if I could take a snap of her. I did, next to the seasonal tree in the lobby, getting a charming smile for my efforts. We walked through the Social room and link passage out of Winchester Court and to the bus stop.
I handed out the nibbles and had a laugh and exchange of insults and put-downs with the folks in the shelter. It was much needed, this bit of socialisationing, cheered me up. It might have bored the others, though. Hehe! Mary, Cyndy, Chrissie, Mabel and the others, seemed to be happier this morning. I got the nibbles issued. As I saw the others (Angela and Roy, Brain and Joan) who had been waiting in the Winchester Court lobby, coming out, I took these photographs. I was walking about and in circles, cause I could feel Arthur Itis stiffening and had the sit on the bus Side-saddle seat to tackle.
The buses arrived, Jean was going to Arnold, but I got on the City-bound L9 and firmly ensconced in the corner side-saddle seat. Got the crossword book out, and was amazed at how many of the unfinished puzzle clues I got en route! So many of the answers I really should have understood earlier, or the first time around. The ride was not relaxing though, this new three-wheeler walker has terrible breaks, (Whoops! Brakes!) and I had to give up the crosswording, to concentrate on stopping the walker from running away or tipping over when the bus went around a corner or up or downhill. And there are a lot of steep hills on the route.
We arrived at the Queen Street terminus. I got off last, and stood for a moment, and noticed the mess all around, and continued to take pictures of the Nottingham Street Art, throughout my visit to the City Centre. Which only lasted for about an hour, before I caught the bus home.
I made a separate post with all the ‘Art’ photographs later.
At at least it wasn’t raining. I hobbled down the street into the slab square, where I took a selection of pictures on my way to the Poundland Shop, on Wheeler Gate.
By gum, it was a lot busier in Nottingham’s Slab Square.
The Galloping Horses even had some visitors today.
The abience seemed far lighter too.
I could not get onto the Slab area, but I managed to take this long-distance, zoomed-in shot of the skaters on the rink.
I went into the Poundland store, it was hectic, as was expected this time of year of course. I came out with a lot of purchases. The helpful lady was on duty, and despite it being so busy, she put the things through for me. Bless her cotton socks. I moved into a quiet corner, and arranged the bag and carrier, to make them easier to carry with the walker-guide. A lot of stuff, too! Shaving foam, Dettol plain and lavender, four packets of Toffifees (Well, it’s a treat for myself for Christmas! Hehe!), a Pork Farms pork pie for Christmas morning breakfast! ( I don’t know why, but as an ankle-snapper, when it was just me and Dad at home, we had tris every Christmas, well, it saved him cooking, Haha!), Wholemeal sliced buns, Ferrero Roche for a treat for a tenant, Cheeselets, ready-made egg sarnie, Cashew and almond nuts, Body spray, Cooked chicken slices, and a tiny little can of ‘King in Million eau de toilette spray for men!’ I don’t know why I got this? Hehe! I do really, I thought it might be handy to keep in the trolley bag, just in case any embarrassing leaks occur which they are guaranteed to.
I got things sorted and poddled out and along South Parade to the Exchange Walk. I took these shots down towards St Peter’s Church. The flowers smelt nice, and the shoplifters… I mean, shoppers looked a bit happier than of late.
I walked down and had a looked in a stationery shop for magnifying glasses. But the prices put me off!
So, out again and up into the Slab Square. Where the Horses ride had at least six people on it, a record methinks?
As I crossed over Long Row on my way to Queen Street, I spotted this Highway Maintenance van parked on the Slab Square? This puzzled me a tad, but then again, I am easily confused and incongruously baffled nowadays. It comes with ageing I suppose, senility and mental confusion.
Throughout the visit to town, there were so many Pavement Cyclists, I didn’t bother picturing, but the sight of three of them on Long Row, side by side, pedestrians scattering, made me snap them quickly, and I passed a comment, something like ‘Gits!’ as they went by me. But I was not heard or ignored. Perhaps just as well, they were big lads. Haha! But, most annoyingly and angering, the photo seems to have dissipated into the ether from the SD card? Grrr!
At the bottom of King/Queen Street, the Ice Mountain ride was doing brisk business. I couldn’t help but stop and watch the kids enjoying themselves.
I p[lodded up to the L9 bus stop. Ray (I think) from the same floor as I live in, in Woodthorpe Court was sat waiting for the bus when I arrived. I greeted him with “Afternoon mate, at least it’s not raining!” For which I received a look of amazement, and ignored, or not heard. He looked tired though, hope he’s alright. He’s also a kipper on bus journeys as I have witnessed before, and on our way back he nodded off a few times. I couldn’t join him in slumber today, the Stirling Moss fan driver, kept me alert and fighting to stay in my side-saddle seat and hang onto the three-wheeler. Haha!
AS the bus pulled up, I checked to see if Roy was awake or not, he was just coming back to life in time for the stop. (We have a lot in common!) I hastened to the flat with Mary, who had got on the bus, said our farewells in the lift. I fumbled with the door lock, and just made it to the WC in time for the start of a pathetical, INHBT (I-needn’t-have-bothered-trickling) wee-wee, that took yonks and probably amounted to a few fluid ounces.
Then, I washed and came out, went to get the things from the bag and trolley. And found Christina note! My whole mind was concentrated on my feeblemindedness and stupidity! Everything else seemed to pale, other than my hunger.
I got the sourdough baguette in the oven and made up a plate with beetroot and the ready-made egg sarnie. Cut up some tomatoes and got them on the bread. Got the sourdough out, and added the ready-cooked crispy smoke bacon as an overgenerous but well-tasty filler. Got a mini-bottle of orange juice, and ate the lot! Flavour rated at 7/10.
At least there was not much washing up to do. I was doing this when the doorbells chimed out. It was Josie, returning the cutlery and plate from her meal. On being asked, she said she enjoyed the nosh.
Back to the washing up. I then stripped off and put the jammies on, did the handwashing, only a shirt and pair of socks. Got them done, wrung and hung to dry.
Got some nuts to nibble and another mini-bottle of orange juice, and settled in the second-hand, £300, c1968 recliner. The one that xyrophobia-suffering Brother-in-Law Pete damaged, while he was flat-sitting when I was in the Stroke Ward. And he fitted new CCTC cameras, he erected a drone-landing platform outside and searched for my valuables, which he found and stole. But I did get some back. Less what he thought was a reasonable amount for his petrol and bother in visiting me in hospital and running me about from the care home back to the flats. Oh, and old coins that I had kept in order of dates, half-crowns, florins etc. They are now in the Cash Converters Pawn Shop on Parliament Street, so he says that I can repurchase them if I hurry.
Well, I was so tired now. I decided to get down and watch some Black Adder on DVD. I got through episodes one and two alright, but the drooping eyes started, so I turned off the set, pulled the woolly hat over my eyes and settled to nod off.
I was awoken, I do not know what by, but I had a feeling it was a noise. I lay pondering on whether I should get up to investigate, and the rattling noise, short and sharp came. I assume this is why I woke in the first place. So, I had to get out of the recliner and hobble around checking that it was nothing in the flat that had fallen over or collapsed.
I performed a perfectly executed painful electric-shock-like toe-stubbing against the cupboard corner in the kitchen! Argh! But found nothing of any concern over the noise, whatever it was. So, I put the kettle on and took a Codeine 30g. The poor old middle toe again!
While the tea was brewing, I took this pretty snap of the evening view. Drank the tea, and then ruminated over things, mostly about how absolutely negligent and gormless I’d been over forgetting about the gorgeous, most appealing, highly attractive, Nurse Christina coming to the flat to take my blood.
01:45hrs: I woke up drained through lack of sleep. The EQ telling me that if I had clinomania and didn’t want to get up, it would be alright?
However, the need for a wee-wee, quickly followed by the demand for a visit to the Porcelain Throne arrived. So, I detached my deteriorating and slowly disintegrating gargantuanly growing flabby-bellied body from the £300, second-hand, c1968 recliner. Grabbed the stick, and made my way dodderingly to the wet room. Passing the signs of my nocturnal nibbling en route.
The session went alright, and the bleeding was much less than the last one. It was another right dollop evacuated. Washed and wiped the contact points. And got the camera to photo the legs for the Doctor to see, when I can get an appointment, that is.
Well, it appears that the legs have swapped fluid retention between each other today? Now, its the right leg that is fatter. Beats me!
Off to the kitchen, and was pleased to note that I had not left the hot water tap running, the stove on, or the fridge freezer door open.
I took a photograph from the window, of the morning view. I don’t really know what it means, but I used the Aperture-Priority-Auto setting. It came out reasonable.
I got the computer on, and feared it might blow up! For the Liberty-Global Virgin Media Internet was going so fast! I was over the moon! Five minutes later, and it was back to its old self! Tsk!
As I was setting up WordPress, I heard clicking in the right ear-hole, and the ‘Hum’ became more noticeable. Off to the medical drawer to put some olive oil in the tab-holes, and noticed I had not taken the medications, last night, nor this morning! So, I imbibed them. Then used the Phorpain gel on Arthur Itis’s knees. Put cortisone cream on the cracked lips, and made another brew of the Thompsons tea. Then sanitised, cleaned and stored the grey bucket under the sink.
As I was updating the Saturday tale of woe, around 03:15hrs, I thought I heard a rumbling noise, but could not find anything untoward or what caused it. If indeed there was any sound, I suppose it might have been the ear wax oil, working its way down the ear canal?
The wee-weeing had changed to the SSSAO (Short-Sharp-Spraying-All-Over) style. And there were plenty of them, so many I got the GPWWB (Grey-Plastic-Wee-Wee-Bucket) disinfected and in use again, and kept it near the computer desk. It was well-used this morning.
I got the Saturday post updated and sent off to WordPress. Then went on the WP reader section. Finally, on the TFZer Facebooking.
Then back to the Porcelain Throne, only to find everything solid and unmoving again! After sitting, unsuccessfully doing the crosswords for a while, I gave up and washed my hands. Then, off to the kitchen, and made a mug of Macrogol and drank it. I seem to be taking a lot of extra medications this week?
Once again, I heard the rumbling noise, this time I knew it was coming from outside, or at least I believed so. I got the Nikon and leant out of the window, and taking it blind to see if anything untoward could be spotted that may have caused the sound that I heard. The new unwanted, unliked, light & view-blocking, thick-framed new kitchen windows, have been built with a hanging-out too far out ledge, that means unless you are young and fit or a contortionist, you cannot look out and down for ambulances, fire engines whatever, like one could with the old windows. But, never mind. Anyway, I could not see anything about that might have been the source of the noise.
As I was making another brew, some unplanned phuts of wind from the rear-end escaped. Blimey, can this be the Macrogol working already? Hehe! Nope, no signs of any movement or need for the Throne yet.
Back to the computer, dropping the stick on the way there, Humph! And made a start on this blog. The previously this morning, well-behaved finger-ends peripheral sensory nerves, now started to play up and failing to get the touch and contact messages to the brain. Thus, a most annoying session of ever making mistakes and corrections started! My spirits sank! But at least I’ve had a couple of decent hours in first!
05:25hrs: I moved on to making up the templates. With some angst, but I did get them done eventually.
09:05hrs: Phew! Got them all done!
I got the ablutionisationing done. Only the one cut shaving. The dropsies were multiple, in fact, there was not much I didn’t drop, knock over or walk into. However, the myasthenia gravis return to getting the messages through to the brain, and suddenly the Whoopsies all stopped. I liked that!
Had a brew while started to sort out and preparing Josie’s meal. I was a little tired by now, and had to concentrate on what I was doing – not that this stopped me later from clouting my forehead on the draining board and sending the goggles flying as I bent down to get the bleach and washing up liquid from under the sink for washing the pots!.
Extra today for her.
Strained tuna in brine, I added some mayonnaise mixed in, sliced tomatoes, garden peas with demerara sugar, gherkins and Josie’s favourite ingredient, soft buttered cheesy mash potato. A can of pink gin & tonic and a limoncello dessert to round it off. I got it on the wheeled-server and delivered the meal on a tray to Josie’s door. The gal seemed satisfied with the feast, and I took her photograph as she was inspecting her chef’s meal. Hehehe! The gal gave me a packet of two custard tart as a thank you.
I’m not keen on these but tried one later with my own nosh.
A quick natter and back top the flat, to get my own nosh prepared. Wholemeal bun sarnies with German smoked Ham and lots of naughty butter, chips (fries), cooked beetroot and sliced apple. The gifted by Josie custard tart, and a mini-bottle of fresh orange juice. Another decent tasting meal this time, an 8.2/10 flavour rating.
It was enjoyed while I was sat on the £300 second-hand recliner, watching Liverpool’s Club World Cup win. It took me back, The Hillsborough and Heysel disasters. Kenny Dalglish, Roger Hunt, Keegan, Michael Owen, Ian Rush, Jimmy Case. Steve Highway, Ron Yeats, and Ray Clemence. The thought of the crooked back-hand taking Bruce Grobbelaar, spoilt the musing.
I went to get the washing up done, and there was plenty of it to do. The right-hand side neurotransmitters were occasionally failing to transmit touch messages to the brain, and somehow or other as I bent to go into the cupboard below the sink, I clonked my forehead on the edge of the door as I fell forwards.
There laid a blubbery-mass of Inchcock on the floor! His glasses shot off somewhere unknown. His head stinging. His pride shattered. And what a struggle to get back up again, ever aware that he might at any time tread on his eyewear! Tsk! Another problem was finding his spectacles after he had got up. Humph! In the end, about to accept he had gone bonkers, he spotted them, they had apparently hit something as they were falling, bounced off and landed right in the waste bin! Finding them unbroken, although the left lens was scratched a bit, cheered him up a tad. Crabs and Grobblecraps!
I put some cream on the bonce, got another drink of orange juice, and returned to the c1968 recliner, to watch a Kitchen programme. Of course, I fell asleep at the first commercial break!
21:25hrs: I fell asleep really early, thus woke up so much earlier after five hours or so. But, I was in fine form. Anne Gyna, Duodenal Donald and Arthur Itis were all in a good mood with me. Only Dizzy Dennis and Saccades Sandra bothered getting at me, but neither was precisely vicious with it. So, as the expected call to the Porcelain Throne arrived. It was a semi-sprightly (using the term in none-actual fashion, very loosely), Inchcock that made his way to the wet room, and even using the wooden walking stick, such was his imprudent, foolhardy confidence. Will he never learn!
As I made my way, the rotten mind-numbing Hum seemed louder than ever, then, I swear I could hear a noise, like someone gargling loudly? But, the need for the evacuation took priority.
And oh, dearie me! The session went well, but the blood that flowed onto the toilet paper, frit me a bit. I shall have to go see the doctor about this. There was too much haemoglobin, and it was deep crimson, not the usual Harold Haemorrhoid red. This took the edge off of my rare bout of self-confidence! So much so, that when I’d cleaned up and medicated myself, I swapped the wooden, for the metal four-pronged stick.
Which was a miracle really? I was on my way into the kitchen, and very sillily and presumptuously used my right hand to grab the kettle with. The sensory nerves died, the pot flew, I nearly caught it and managed to prevent my going down on the deck because I had the right walking stick with me! By changing the sticks, I avoided a potentially right-serious Accifauxpa! Of course, it didn’t help the kettle lid from being broken-off when it hit the floor. So, I might be in trouble for the noise later on.
I thought, ‘It’s going to be one of those days, is it!’ After such a good start as well, Humph!
I got the broken kettle plugged, and notwithstanding the loose, hanging off lid; it began to heat up. So, not all bad luck then, after all! A bit of a mixture really! I belatedly got the tablets for Thursday night taken. Then I made the brew. Regrettably, I needed a wee-wee. And it was of a brand-new to me, style one! I’ve given the acronym of a TBKIWAWBC (The-Bladder-Know-It-Wants-A-Wee-But-Can’t) I waited and waited. Finally, a few fluid ounces painfully made it. Tinkle-dribble, all done! However, on the bright side, Little Inchies fungal lesion was not bleeding. My lucks all up and down this morning, innit?
So, I had to make a fresh mug of tea, to replace the one that had gone cold while I was busy failing to wee-wee!
I went to get the computer going and realised I must have ricked my back during the kettle kerfuffle, for as I sat down on the swivel chair, Back-Pain-Brenda kicked off! Glory be,I’m such a lucky, fortunate Alter cocker! Am I not? Humph! I wonder what the number is for the Samaritans? Hehehe, only joking!
I rose with a mild Argh! And went to take a Codeine 30g, to ease the back pain, and took the morning meds at the same time. Then the bladder told me I needed to pass water. I spent another ten-minutes before giving up. Another new name, this was an ANGWW style, (A-No-Go-Wee-Wee)! Everything, seem to be going all wrong, well, out of sync, sort of oppugnant and discordant today? If it’s go-wrongable, it appears to be doing just that!
Well, sod-me! Can you really believe what has happened, unbelievable, inapposite? But it fits in with my pathetically congruent existence, I suppose. I wonder if Mr Fries is bothered at all? Nae, can’t see that! I just wrote the above passage, then turned on the computer, and…
Even an old experienced bad-luck coping nebekh like me has his limits, you know, Lord! Can’t you tell me what I’ve done wrong to deserve all this catastrophe, affliction, pain, ailments, mental torture, lousy luck, hassle, failure, frustration, and depression? Please! Unless of course, I was Stalin, Ho Chi Min, Attila the Hun, Hitler or I sired David Cameron, in a previous life? In that case, I can understand, mind, fair enough. Thank you.
I waited, rebooted but nop luck. So I did the handwashing, then back to the computer and it was going, although slowly. I cracked on with the first Friday funny blog. ‘Inchcock’s wobble to Nottingham, in the rain.A big un! Took me ages to get the rhyming anywhere near what I wanted, but I still enjoyed doing it. Then, I got the Inchcock Today for Friday finished off. It’s all hard work today!
Put some pictures on Pinterest. Then I went on the WordPress Reader section. A lot of decent stuff on there as well. Then the TFZer Facebooking. I always love going on there.
Then the stomach started hurting along with Back-Pain Brenda. I was a touch nervous about this development, so I went to the WC straight away. Well, the innards told me that I needed another heavy-duty session, but nothing came nor could be cajoled. The wee-wee was a minuscule trickle. What’s going on with things today? I took a Furesomide water tablet.
I went to make a brew. And while the injured (not fatal yet) kettle was boiling, I opened the unwanted, unliked, light & view-blocking, thick-famed, impossible to reach for cleaning new kitchen window, and took three photos across the view left to right. I would have liked top take panorama shot, but taking these are no longer viable, with the myasthenia gravis and peripheral neuropathy, it is sad, but I can longer make them, the hands and arm just will not allow me to make them. This is a disappointment to me. But has to be lived with and accepted. At least I can do some ordinary photographicalisationing, even if it sometimes takes a lot of tries to get them right.
It’s a damned good job we don’t need the rolls of films like we used to have to use, otherwise, I’d be bankrupt! Hehehe!
The stomach started off again, same procedure, the innards telling me I needed a heavy-duty evacuation. Off to the wet room, I wobbled. No movement again, but I think the usually accompanying wee-wee, lasted a bit longer this time, for about three seconds! Gawd, neither end wants to work, now! Haha! Might as well laugh about it, I’ll have another, Har-har!
I took a shot of the pins to see hope they looked. Well, not the prettiest that they had been before. But not the worst either. The fluid seems to be building up again… fool me! It should be expected with no wee-weeing worth mentioning, shouldn’t it?
I still can’t understand it you know. These art galleries pay for things like a pile of bricks, or a banana on a bit of cardboard, but here is true art as far as I’m concerned. If they paid me for monthly pictures, they would ever get them looking the same, live-art! I’d settle for far less than the pillock who got fame out of putting some house-bricks on the floor did! I’m not jealous you understand, just because he got paid so much, oh, no! Well, yes, I am! Hehehe!
Time to get some graphicalisationing done. I’ve done selfies to use for the Little Inchcock faces on the blogs. I’ll get them resized and saved first. During which I had two wee-wees, of the style VSHS (Very-Short-Hosepipelike-Sensationless) mode. So the Furesomide must be working.
I spent many hours just to catch up with the graphic-making for the next few days. I was well shattered and tired by the time I got them made and felt too done-in to make the drafts. Closed everything down, and got the nosh prepared, and that took me ages, too! But it was worth it, a rather special nosh this turned out to be. I big one and I gobbled the lot of it on my knee in the recliner! Then destroyed the mandarin yoghourt.
Cheesy potatoes, smoked haddock, cod battered fish fingers, beetroot, tomatoes and canned garden peas with demerara sugar and salt.
Doing the washing up, was a mammoth task, with the cheese and fish bits sticking to everything, and I was really ready to sit and dose while watching the TV by then. There were three Devils Kitchens programmes on channel 47, I thought I’d try to stay awake to watch.
The rain, well drizzle, was safely outside.
Fatigued, I got settled in the xyrophobia-suffering Brother-in-Law Pete damaged, while he was flat-sitting when I was in the Stroke Ward, and he stole my valuables, recliner.
I recall the start of the first programme, then the wee-wee frenzy began! Gawd knows how many times I had to struggle out of the recliner to use the GPEWWB (Grey-Plastic-Emergency-Wee-Wee-Bucket). After a couple of hours or so, the painless USS (Urgent-Sharp-Short) wee-wees ceased as suddenly as they started?
The up and down wee-weeing routines had added to my weariness. The last kitchen episode was just starting on the TV. I was determined to watch at least this last one! But at the first set of commercials, the self-mind-storming starting! The concentrating, unwilling as it was, on the thought-storm took away any idea was watching or listening to the box. The fears, angst, worries, fretting, and overwrought emotions captured my mind, and my cherophobic and euphobia were brought to light for me to panic over. I became apprehensive, in a state of agitation for ages. Of course, the brain just skipped over each problem or fear, on to the next. Old failings, wrong decisions and routes I’d taken. From nowhere, a smidgen of an unexpected resolution came to me. “What the hell are you doing Inchcock?”
It was well-passed my getting up time before I nodded off!
Then had to get up repeatedly when the wee-wees returned! Curmudgeonly-Mode-Engaged!
23:15hrs: I stirred, feeling shivery, cold and yet sweating? Realising almost immediately, (I can be quick sometimes, Hehe!) I had discarded my clothing during the night! As I fumbled around to find the scattered jammies and socks, I did my best to collate the few inklings still in the grey-cell-box, of a dream I’d been having. But they were vague recollections, and I had no luck in discovering any facts of the nightmare. I sensed fear and apprehension were involved, but nothing else.
While retrieving the clothing, along with the DVD and TV remote controls from the floor. (long-live the new picker-upperer!) I involuntarily flatulated; only a little sort of almost silent ‘Plup’, but in unison. The aroma filled the room, and the innards began to erupt. Leaving me in no doubt that the Porcelain Throne was urgently needed!
Off to the wet room. Barely making it in time, the instant evacuation began… and went on for an unbelievably long few minutes! I must have lost a good few pounds in weight there, Haha! My initial worry was whether the system would cope with getting rid of it all. But the amount of bleeding took over as my main worry. It didn’t look like it was Haemorrhoid Harold’s, so this concerned me a bit. But, it might have been. Anyroad, the toilet did not clear everything first press of the flush. The tank takes ages to refill, so I got some water from the sink and put that in, I’ll have to go back later and re-flush the system. Tsk, worra life!
I got the kettle on the boil and took the medications. Then on the computer to start the updating of the Thursday post. The finger-ends autonomic nerves were not too severely playing up. I got it finished in good time, mainly due to hardly any photographs taken, and the fingers behaving so well. Sent if off.
Went in the WordPress reader. Then put some pictures on Pinterest.
I went back to flush the toilet again, but it is still blocked. I poured some water from the sink down. No movement. Refilled the tank by hand, and re-flushed. Still not gone! I poured some drain unblocker in the bowl, just a desperate ploy! I’ll recheck it later. I’m fed-up!
Back to the computer chair, and I heard a loud noise, a sort of rumbling sound, but could not identify where it came from. So I had a look around, and in doing so, came across two letters that had been delivered. No cause for the noise was found.
I don’t like getting mail, it’s very rarely good nows, if ever! One letter was from Severn Trent, informing me of there working on the water supply again, from 6th to the 16th of January. The second letter, from Nottingham City Homes. Telling me; Your requested maintenance work to be carried out at your home. We will be coming to carry out repairs on 20th January 2020, between 08:00 > 12:30hrs. Make sure there is a responsible adult at home when we carry out the works. And make sure the area we’ll be working in is clear of any furniture or other items.
Now, being as they have not mentioned what repairs they are coming to do, I’m not sure if they are coming to look at the blocked WC, the leaking hot water tap, or the deadly (finger-tearing and bruising) metal spring lock on the unwanted and unliked balcony? So, I’d better get the removal men in and empty the kitchen, wet room and front room… well, the apartment, so the things don’t get in their way? Could be expensive, this! I put them in the Google Calendar – in hopes that Liberty-Global Virgin Media boss, Mike (I’m paid over $17m salary, so sod internet users) Fries, lets me get access to it.
I made a start to this blog, got up to here, and went to check the blocked WC again. Huh!
I went on the TFZer Facebooking for a while.
Ablutions tackled. Now here this… only three dropsies! Yee-Ha! The pins (legs) looked a little more warped this morning, and with the right leg much thinner. This being the peripheral neuralgia and Myasthenia gravis affected side, anything can happen. Haha!
Wholly refreshed and my suddenly feeling up for it (life), I got all sorted and dressed. Got the things together for the trip to Nottingham, and took the waste bags to the chute, before venturing down to Windwood Court and the Obersturmbannfhreress Warden’s holding cell. On the way through the link passage, the weather looked ominous – Rain, rain and rain! Tsk!
I arrived at the ILCs (Independent Living Coordinator’s) office, handed out the nibbles and had a little natter. Then they threw me out. Hahaha! I went into the Windwood Court big social room. Tok the first shot of their Christmas tree, and sat down for a rest and permutate the day’s plans, which took me about ten seconds. Then from the seat that I was in (and very comfortable, it was, too), I took the second and third photographs.
I was almost reluctant to get up after a few minutes. But the missing the bus would have been the result, had I stayed any longer, in the warmth and comfort of Winwood Court.
I made my way through the link passage into Winchester Court. And snapped their Christmas tree, as I listened to the folks in there, keeping out of the rain.
As I did so, some ambulance men came out from the lift, with Louie on a chair, and took him to the ambulance. Bit of a downer, that! I hope he’s going to be alright, we already have Mo in hospital. I got no news about her, I must ask again. I’d like to visit her if possible.
Out to the crowded bus shelter, to join the others. You can see the ‘Bookies Nightmare’ and my neighbour Malcolm, entertaining the females. He does is so well, and is a much admired and thought of bloke. Makes yer sick! Just cause he’s younger than me, more prosperous, better looking. Tsk! Hehehe! He’s a great character really and of a helpful nature. Christine, Penny and Mary Jean amongst others.
I nattered with Mary en route, as best that two people with hearing difficulties can, anyway.
I got on the bus, after falling over with the new trolley-guide getting on to it! And Mary got on with her new mini-cooker she’d just bought from Argos. Again we tried to have a natter, but we both gave up when we realised we were not doing very well in hearing each other. Humph!
The journey was full of obstructions, the same as the trip out was. So many roadworks, gas, water and others going on. I think the drivers do a great job of getting us through.
Back at the flats, Mary and I got off last with of wheelers and went into the building through Winchester Court, to get out of the rain quicker. Through the link passages back to the cold Woodthorpe Court.
Mary got off on the first floor, me on the twelfth.
Although it was still only about 12:30hrs, I was shattered. Had a somewhat surprising to me wee-wee, HDPTBS (Heavy-Duty-Powerful-Torrential-But-Short) variety. Had a wash, put the Poundland bought goods away, and got the nosh sorted out.
Having the ready-made BLT sandwich, roast onions, pork pie, tomatoes, beetroot, things on sticks (can’t remember the name now), and sliced apple. A Limoncello dessert, and fresh orange juice. By Jiminy, it was good! A flavour rating of 9/10 for this one. It went down a treat. Mind you, I’d been up for about fifteen hours by then, so hunger must have played a part in my enjoying it so much. Haha!
I took this snap of the rain, close-up to the kitchen window.
I got washed and settled down in the £300 second-hand c1968 recliner. With the tummy filled, I fought to watch an episode of Devils Kitchen, but was soon off in the land of Nod!
23:45hrs: I woke in a state of malaise, anxiety and apprehension, not knowing why. Somehow believing I should know? I disentangled my flabby-stomached torso from the £300 second-hand, stuck half-up, half-down recliner. The control buttons were unresponsive again. I was surprised at there being no demand for a wee-wee.
Then the stomach rumbled, and a slight ‘Pwlumph’ from the rear end, (emitting an immediate foully odious aroma) signalled a need of the Porcelain Throne instead. I grabbed the walking stick, got the slippers on and trotted (well, hobbled), to the wet room. I wish I’d had time to take the camera with me now. As I was settling on the raised seat, I opened the dressing gown at the same time. Lost my balance and proceeded to knock the following (there may have been more) items off of the floor cabinet: Body spray, Germoloid tube, the Pimecrolimus bottle, the Daktacort cream,
+the crossword book and pencil, the toilet spray, spare roll, and something little that fell down the back, that I have yet to find. Humph!
I carried out evacuation; which went well, apart from a fair bit of bleeding. And set to picking up the dislodged items. I noticed the bruises on my leg from last night’s rather vicious Neuropathic Schuhplattler Dance, but they were not bad at all. One behind and one in front as best I could tell. Then I got the camera to take a shot of it. Otherwise, the legs looked much better than of late. In fact, looking now closer at the front mark, it may not be a bruise at all, looks more like a Clopidogrel papule to me. But I could be wrong, I sometimes am, well quite often… okay, I’m usually wrong!
Washed up, and to the kitchen. Got the kettle on then took this ‘Aperture Priority’ photo of the view outside.
I had a few moments of reflection but had to cut it short. I started off musing in a decent sort of semi-contended fashion, but things soon turned to my many failings, misinterpretations, mistakes, misjudgements, misconceptions and a mood of morosity maddeningly meandered into my mind.
I took the medications, and started updating the Wednesday blog, and:
Jerky and freezing now and again, but at least it didn’t (or hasn’t yet) gone off. A rarity that! Well done Mike Fries (Incapable, uncaring, overpaid, Git!)
After several hours, a lot of photos and the route map had to be sorted, I got the updating finished! Hurrah! The neurotransmitters were not too bad this morning, so typing was less of an ordeal. But the old concentration was not so good. So I took a break, made some tea and nibbled a few lumps of the Galaxy darker chocolate. Odd, but I do not like the Cadbury darker chocolate, but do the Galaxy?
Once again, as I sat looking at the computer screen but not doing anything on it, the thoughts began to turn to the not nice things in my life. So I launched into putting some pictures on Pinterest, and then onto the WordPress Reader. Well worth a couple of hours, entertainment time.
Then I went on the TFZer Facebooking. By golly, that took me some time to catch up on, but I enjoyed every moment of it!
I’ll make a brew, have rest, and get on with making some more graphics to use later. There’s no rest, is there! Haha!
Gotten Himmel! That took me hours and hours, and I only got the Days and Thoughts done! No page toppers at all! And I was drained!
Still, time for the nosh now. I had cheesy potatoes, garden peas, and maple pork steaks. (In the morning, I found the damned photograph of the plate, had drifted off into the ether. I hate that!) But the shot I took at the same time of outside, was there on the SD?
I got the pots washed, then did the handwashing, wrung and hung to dry.
Ensconced my short, stubby but plump, wobbly body in the recliner, to try and watch Jurrasic Park 2 on DVD. I soon got bored with the glibness, and turned to the TV, and fell into slumber.
23:45hrs: I stirred into a sort of counterfeit-life, with a fatty, greasy taste and smell lining my mouth, from the none-ordered Iceland pork that was desperately short on lean meat, but was plentiful in fat! And it had upset Duodenal Donald and Reflux Roger overnight, who were both giving me some stick. Thank you, sarcastically, Iceland!
I rose out of the £300, second-hand, sickeningly beige-coloured, c1968, damaged rickety, none-working recliner. The one that xyrophobia-suffering Brother-in-Law Pete destroyed, while he was flat-sitting, when I was in the Stroke Ward, and he fitted new CCTC cameras and searched for my valuables, which he found and took. And off for a wee-wee. Which was of a different style this time, the BOBSL (Blasting-Out-But-Short-Lived). It might be due to the shock to the bladder of having all that Iceland fat thrown into it? Haha!
I took a photographicalisation from the unwanted, thick-framed, light & view-blocking kitchen window, of the morning view, it looked a little misty out there.
I had to have another BOBSL wee-wee. Hello, I thought, did I take a water tablet by mistake last night?
I took the morning medication doses, made the brew of Thompsons tea, and blow me down with a feather duster, needed another BOBSL wee-wee! Mmm, what’s going on here?
When I got back, I noticed this morning’s Furesomide (Water Tablet), was produced by another manufacturer, it was a different shape, well, thicker. This could be why I took out another tablet by mistake and left that one in last night. The idea was to remove the as-and-when needed, Furesomide, which I would not have to struggle with, had the chemist done what he said he would to the Medicine Management Nurse, and not put them in the blister-pack! I’ve no idea which I removed. There are three almost identical tablets with the others in the blister; Bisopropalol, Furesomide and Codeine 30g. If I threw away the beta-blocker, I could be in trouble later.
Not that I want to get my revenge on the lying chemist at all. (Carrington Pharmacy, Mansfield Road, Carrington) But, should I croak out suddenly. I’d like for Clive and Gary to pay the man a visit for me, and make sure he regrets treating me so uncaringly. Thanks, lads. (Cash hidden in the usual place near the waste skips at the end of the garages, help yourself!)
I went into the computer room and booted her up. Something wasn’t right. Some flashing as she started, but all seemed well enough when I began using it. The flickering set off Saccades Sandra, and I couldn’t see enough to type.
So, I wandered back into the kitchen and took another shot of morning view. Ah, it looks like the fog is clearing already, getting ready to let the rain through? According to Google, it’s going to be showers, all through the day today.
The eye-jerking eased, and back to start the updating of the Tuesday blog. The Peripheral Neuropathy sensory nerves, to begin with, were not too bad for some reason. And this allowed me to get the job done quickly for a change.
Although, as to be expected, the fingertips lost their sensitivity again later, not sending contact messages to the brain, and the enjoyment of doing the blogs ended; and became a struggle. Humph!
Yet another wee-wee needed! I think it’s apparent that I took a Furesomide now. Grumph! Of to the wet room, and got the GPEWWB (Grey-Plastic-Emergency-Wee-wee-Bucket) disinfected and brought it back with me to near the computer for future easier wee-weeing. If the doorbell chimes, I must remember to move it away!
I got four largish mushrooms in the slow cooker, with balsamic vinegar cooking for later on. Then I went onto the WordPress Reader, tons on there today. Some good stuff, too.
As I was moving to Pinterest, the need for another wee-wee arose. Anticipating yet another BOBSL (Blasting-Out-But-Short-Lived) mode, I was taken aback a bit by the unexpected ELDOP (Extra-Long-Drawn-Out-Persistent) style. But, worse than that, Little Inchies Fungal Lesion was bleeding. I’d no Corticosteroid cream left, but found some Daktacort to use. It stings more and is less effective at stemming the flow. But, better than nothing. Excuse me a moment while I apply it. ‘Arghhh!’ All done, now.
Back to the computerisationing. Sent a few pictures to Pinterest, then had a wonderful time on the TFZer Facebooking. During which, the myasthenia gravis and Neurotransmitter failure started to bother me, make things less pleasant.
Off for yet another wee-wee, this time of the LSPDO (Long-Slow-Painfull-Drawn-Out) mode. I’ll not mention the wee-wees again, just take it that they were pestiferously persistent, perseverant and perdurable peeing’s all day! This was the last wee-wee, for hours and hours. They just stopped?
Well, the pins (legs) were looking in a far better condition than yesterday. The vasculitis, blood-papules, weal’s, scars, lumps, bulges, spots, bruises, welts, contusions, blemishes all calm. The Clopidogrel patterning was far less severe! Where the bowed legs came from, I’ve no idea, it must be RAI (Rheumatoid Arthur Itis), but he’s not overly bothersome at the moment?
Started the ablutions. Dropsies were just fine, only about five throughout the whole rigmarole of WCing, teeth cleaning, shaving, washing, showering, medicationalisationing and dressing! A Dizzy Dennis attack when under the shower shook me somewhat, but it didn’t last for long. A little cut shaving was a devil to stop bleeding, but with the extremely high INR level, I wasn’t surprised. The Brute after-shave finished it, Yeow! Hehe!
With rain being forecast, I decided to risk using the new three-wheeled walker-guide for the first time. I moved things needed from the old trolley. Added the fodder for the Social Club, then got dressed warmly ready for the planned hobble into Arnold. I was perhaps foolishy, intent on getting a pleasant walk in, after such a long time without having one. Which later proved not such a good idea.
When I got the hat coat and gloves on and moved the new trolley-guide outside the front door, I could tell straight away that it was going to struggle to control this apparatus. The handlebars were lower, the weight of the thing far lighter, and the brakes were not very good, even inside on the flat.
My already limited confidence ebbed. My EQ told me things were not going to be good on this walk. Caution Mode was adopted as I moved to the lift.
I went down to the lobby, even getting this trolley over the gap caused it to nearly topple over! Tsk! Another bad idea in getting the new wheels!
I had a perusal of the notice board and walked to and through the swipe door into the Winwood link-passage. Oh, the warmth in Winwood Court is so welcoming after coming out of the cold Woodthorpe lift foyer, very welcome. I went to the Winwood Court Social Room and put the cooked chicken and bacon on the kitchen counter. Then called at the ILC’s (Independent Living Coordinators) Wardens as they used to be known, holding cell and interrogation office. They have cunningly installed table lights inside now, so anyone needing or foolishly wanting to talk to them, cannot tell if anyone is in or not. The main light is not on, so we can’t see if anyone is in.
I abandoned my plans, as I realised I had not put in my hearing aids or got the wristwatch on! Humph! So, back to through the passage to Woodthorpe Court and my flat to collect them. This new trolley felt so unstable, I considered swapping it with the old one, but with the expected rain and the old one having a broken bag cover, I decided not to. Hearing aids fitted, watch on the wrist, and back down and out of the cold Woodthorpe lobby and over Chestnut Walk, tacking the gravel hill up into Woodthorpe Grange Park on my mini-hobble to Arnold.
A couple of pauses on the way up the incline for a breather already! But I knew that when I got on the level again, I’d be fine, and Arthur Itis and Anne Gyna would soon ease off.
Going down the footpath to Mansfield Road, the trolley proved its dangerous instability and did not cope well with a few holes in the tarmac. A coup[le of close calls when the front wheel suddenly stuck solid and things nearly turned problematical for me. I was not enjoying this mini-trek at all.
I got onto the main road and turned right, this is when the nastiest Dizzy Dennis attack for a long time came on, just after I’d stopped to take photos of the traffic.
I leant against a pole for a few minutes. But Dennis was stubborn and did not want to leave me in peace. Eventually, I felt able to hobble on, but slowly and wearily. Which meant I was getting wetter and colder more! Humph!
I got into Daybrook and the traffic lights junction with Arno Vale Road. Getting over the two sets of lights is always a concern for me, but with the trolley sticking at every hole in the ground, and rattling over the pavement studs, it was almost nerve-racking today.
My getting to the B&M store was rather well-timed, I thought. The drizzle started just as I was limping into the shop! Hehe!
I poddled around the store, very disappointed in what was on offer, and the state of the place. However, I get myself some treats of Christmas. A box of Toffifii, and a tube of Softmints spearmint. And some black rubbish bags. By gum, I know how to celebrate. Huh!
I came out, the drizzle had stopped, and took my life into my hands crossing the road. Limped on into Arnold, calling in the Arno Hill Park to feed the ducks en route. That was fun, but getting out onto the road was not easy over the uneven ground, with the damned trolly tipping, sticking and rattling.
I plodded on to the Fulton Foods shop, just to get some Galaxy dark milk chocolate bars with hazelnuts, at three for a quid. I got six of them. Another treat!
I had to make haste a bit to High Street, behind Asda (Walmart) to catch the L9 bus back.
I met neighbour Malcolm at the bus stop. We nattered on the bus going home. Well, I did! A was a case of verbal diahorrea I’m afraid. Malcolm soon lost me when we got back, and I don’t blame him either. Gawd I was rabbiting on!
As I got off the bus, I realised I had a nose bleed. Not a lot, it seemed to be coming from a tiny cut. I imagine that if the Warfarin INR level was anything like normal instead of way-high, it would not have bled at all. Miniscule but persistent bleeding as I walked through the corridors and up in the lift to the flat.
Malcolm was talking in the flat lobby with Josie. I said hello, but no response, my fault for butting into their conversation. Into the apartment and still, there was no wee-wee needed?
I got the medications taken, put the kettle on, pondered over what meal to have.
And then went to the wet room to take a look at the bleeding nose. (Not swearing! Hahaha!) The Brut after-shave was applied, and that seemed to curb the flow.
I made some boiled-bashed-and-roasted cheesy red Leicester potatoes with salt and butter added. Beef pattie, garden peas with demerara sugar, four large balsamic vinegar mushrooms, sliced cox’s apple, cooked beetroot and Wholemeal bread thins, buttered with sliced tomatoes and onion-salt! A most deserving Taste- Rating of 7.5/10 attained.
I did the washing up, a lot of it tonight. But when it came to doing the handwashing, the hot water was stone cold! A semi-panic came over me… had I left the tap running in the wet room sink? I hastened to have a check on it, and I went in a hurry without the walking stick…
Just my rotten luck! I had a Peripheral Neuropathy inspired involuntary right leg flailing-about dance in the hallway! Needless to say, without the stick, I went over, tumbled to the floor, my head hitting the wall on the way down, and the leg continuing to happily vellicate away in the air, hitting the walls a few times.
It lasted a minute or so longer, and I lay there trying to limit any further injuries, as the leg enjoyed doing its version of the upside-down leg-in-the-air Schuhplattler Twist dance. It stopped suddenly, as it usually does, and thoughts turned to getting myself upright off of the floor. Which oddly, was not too painful or difficult, the walls within easy reach helped. Once semi-perpendicular again, I checked for any damage caused. A bruise on the leg and head, but I seemed to have escaped any serious bother.
Then I remembered the hot water tap (faucet) and got in the wet room. I’d not left it running. But, I had left the wall heater on! That’ll cost me a bit of dosh. these convector heater things are nice and blowy hot, but cost a fortune to run, without leaving them on for hours!
Normally, I almost always take one of the sticks with me, anywhere I go in the flat, just in case of the Neuropathic Schuhplattler Dance kicking-off. Just my rotten fortune innit? The one time, mind you, and it was due to me panicking I suppose, I don’t take a stick, and over I go! Tsk!
I can’t claim to be the most fortuitous of people! Hahaha! But I got through it, and am so glad it didn’t happen outside, on the bus or hobbling.
I made a brew and settled in the £300 second-hand recliner. To watch the DVD, that I bought months ago for £1 from the charity shop. I’ve only ever watched the original one. Thought it was rubbish, and didn’t bother with them again. So, with this cheapo set of three DVDs, I thought I’d watch the three of them. Naturally, I knew there would be no chance of my staying awake to watch one, let alone three! I got through about half-way of the film, but it was so bad and boring to me, I gave up and turned off the set. But, if I should live long enough, still plan to view the other two that I’ve not seen yet. I changed to TV mode and fell asleep within minutes.
