– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – I’m not having any Christmas fare, I’ll treat the Carers & Nurses, to be fair, Mentally failing, but I still want to be a blogger It now takes so much longer, it’s a bugger, I feel I’m no longer a belonger… I was happier when I was boozier, I’ve grown burlier, burblier, & less brainier… Living life like a boondoggler, A fungal lesion & catheter in my todger, Dementia is my brain’s orchestrater, Mild now, worse as I get older… Beyond eighty, one can become an obiter, I don’t look, can’t read ‘em, Gladys Glaucoma, Never wanted excess money or grandeur, Others notice as you get gimpier, You may suffer from graphomania, Ending up a grammaticaster, I’ll explain why, at the gates to St. Peter, Ageing: one becomes thinner or paunchier, No longer a philanderer, you begin to palter, Concentration and memory will falter, You become an easy target for any finagler… Mugger, killer, blackmailer or freebooter, My turn to become a contradicter… It’s hard to explain Cacodemonomania, When it comes to life’s final closure… Things will be revealed by your claviger… Be it a God, Planet, Money, whatever, Inspect your lifestyle, traits whensoever, To return to earth, you must be a groveller, And bare-face liar, like Starmer! And he’s a bound for Hell, Herr Charmer! – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – Tim’s Cat’s Greenies Stand-off. I love this one! – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
The result was I gave myself a bloody nose by losing my balance as I bent down to open the Catheter Valve yesterday. Then, while wiping the flow from my nasal holes, I started my cracked lips bleeding. I rather hope that they do not start again today! (They did!)
I woke up very late, enjoying sleep and having a good dream. Hehe! I moved as Richard entered the room, and maybe a few of my ailments did not kick-off. Until I tried to move my bulk about in the £300 second-hand shop-bought, c1966, moth-eaten, bedraggled, grotty, cringingly beige-coloured, much-dilapidated, crumb-containing from my nocturnal nibblings, bug-ridden, itch-inspiring, not-working recliner. I’ve not felt so bad when waking up for years!
My lips cracked and bled as I tried to speak. Speaking was not easy at first; I was more mumbling, I think. Back-Pain-Brenda, Electric-Shocking-Sherida, Confusion Konrad, everything seemed blurred (Glaucoma Gladys?), and, for several minutes, I felt like I was in a permanent-seizure mode. Richard was getting a smidge annoyed with me, I think. Because he was talking to me, but I was not receptive and unable to. I all but went over when I finally got the nerve to stand up and take off the nocturnal pouch. I was keeping Richard from getting home with my faffing about, and I was aware of this. I emptied, disinfected and wrapped up the pouch, and by the time I got back in the room with Richard, I was a different person. As if by magic, I’d regained some perception. Richard issued the prescription medications, and my being more with it, we chatted a minute or two.
As soon as Richard departed, I got the kettle on. Taking this photo from the kitchen window of morning view. Feeling more myself all the time. I’d left the blood towels out last night, so I wrapped them up and put them in the yellow disposable hygiene bag after disinfecting it first. To my genuine amazement, after drinking the small mug of tea and getting the computer on, the day bag filled almost to the maximum. In fact, it was the backflow discomfort that made me aware of its need to be emptied again. Not only that but in the jug was nearly 800ml of waste water! I think this happened yesterday as well. It continued to fill up all day, but not as much as this one. In the middle of this emptying, no spillages!
Launched into activity. He’s not a frequent visitor, but he hung around on and off all day, then into the night. I feared, as does happen, that Ted often encourages to join in with him. But not this time. She assisted him while I was in bed later to ensure another nasty disrupted sleep for me.
I didn’t mention this but decided, as it had happened, I would. I had to scoot off to the wet room to use the Porcelain Throne when Richard was here. I was almost casually taking off my dressing gown, and the motion began of its own accord! SHAME AGAIN! , It was a damned Trotsky Terence affair as well! I kept Richard longer and felt guilty, but the mess I’d splattered over the mats, floors and my legs had to be sorted out there and then.👎🏻
I collated the waste bags into one and placed it near the front door. I opened the door cause I thought I heard a noise outside. But no one was there, which is my flat’s usual state. I closed the door… a simple enough everyday activity… Ha! I’d hit the catheter day bag, a decent wallop with the edge of the door. I laughed it off and returned to the main junk room to get the computer back on and update the blog. I would think it was about eight to ten minutes later that I realised that urine from the pouch was trickling down my leg! Once more, the sock, leg, foot and slipper had been self-unrinated on with great venom! The one saving grace was that I noticed it sooner this time and saved the carpet cleaning from needing to be done.
Such shame, disgrace, ignominy, humiliation, and indignity! The Carers are aware of these things, and the Nurses are. But what can I do? It’s going to happen again, undoubtedly. This very fact alone is enough to get me into a depression. Then the seizures are getting worse, unquestionably. Carer Richard found this morning that I’d left the taps running again last night. I’m sorry I mentioned it now.
When I zoomed in to take this picture from the kitchenette window, I got a sense that something was wrong or not right. Different somehow compared with yesterday’s viewing. I spent a ridiculous amount of time and kept returning to look with the naked eye. Was it just that the sun had sneaked through, lighting up the scene? I’d enough to worry about as it was, but this bugged me. I gave up and got on the computer.
Carer Suen arrived. We laughed, and I gave her a choice of bottles to select from for Christmas. Painkillers were given, and my diabetic socks were put on.
I went to make a brew of Glengettie and took this snap of the sky on offer. Then, it dawned on me what the difference was in the previous photo. It was all the cars parked on the pavements on Devonshire Avenue to the left in this repeated picture. Ah, yes, all those families at home enjoying Christmastime! Jealous? Me? Don’t be so ridiculous! Ahem!
I read on the web the list of meals that the prisoners were having in Nottingham jail over Christmas and the New Year. Jealous? Me? Don’t be so ridiculous! Ahem! I’d better get my Christmas meal started. Not as good as the criminals’ meal, But I’m not Jealous… oh, no!
Imitation fish sticks, potato chunks, sliced bread with a bit of Marmite. Followed by a pot of jelly with three small pieces of satsuma in it. Very nice! This year, for Christmas lunch, inmates at His Majesties Prison New Hall will get to choose from Moroccan vegan roast, Salmon & dill fishcake, Roast turkey with pigs in blankets, and sage and onion stuffing with complete trimmings. Christmas pudding (vegan option), ice cream, Swiss Roll or banana & custard. For free, of course. It makes me feel guilty about having my massive feast. Jealous? Me? Don’t be so ridiculous! Ahem!
Carer Victor did the last call.
I got into bed and drifted off into a nagging, ever-waking sleep. I gave up and got up at 05:30 hrs. – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – Sayonara
