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A Wicked Night’s Sleep!
The Cold Tingles & Electric Shocking Sherida, with a few sessions of brain talking from Thought-Storming-Steve, I don’t think I slept at all! I don’t recall waking up as such. I gave up trying to sleep and unmounted the bed. I took the 
nocturnal catheter pouch to the day pouch and went off to the kitchen to check the taps, cooker and fridge.
Nothing had been left on or running. The fancy nightshirt hanging on the hallway wall looked nice; I might wear it later today. First, I decided to continue with the ablutionalisation and medicalisations.
As I stripped off, ready to have a shave, do the teggies and take a shower. I noticed that I had not used the Porcelain Throne this morning. That’s a rarity!
It was rather cold! So, I decided to wear one of the thicker dressing gowns.
As I entered the room, I saw the floor was dirty. I don’t think any domestic help could have come this week, so I decided to get the floor mopped afterwards. Little did I know how long 
it would take. Tsk! Teeth done, I began shaving. Good stuff to stop bleeding that Brute is!
Apart from spraying what I thought was shower gel all over me and finding it was power-cleaning foam, things went reasonably well until I got in the shower. But there’s worse to come. If you had been thinking of sending some pity through the ether, that would be nice. I enjoyed showering… that is, until I moved the broken curtain and saw the water had been sprayed all over the wall, toilet, medications, and cabinet, too. The dirt on the floor had been moved over a greater area now. So, there I was, with nothing on but the catheter contraption and walking stick in hand. A Carer was overdue. So, before medicating, I dried off and investigated the easiest way to mop and clean the wet room. There was no easy way. At first, I got the old mop and bucket out, making more mess as I clambered over to get them from the back corner, But I realised this would mean carrying the mop and bucket into the kitchen to clean them up. So, I got some rags, soaked them in cleaner fluid, and used the picker-upperer to clean the floor. Stopping often to wash the rag, and how I didn’t 
have a fall, I just didn’t know, with the picker-upperer and walking stick limiting my actions.
But it took me ages. And the result was a wet room floor that was only marginally cleaner than when I started the job! I put the flash on to take the photos so it looked cleaner. Hehehe! All that bending and stretching, doing the cleaning, had done me no good, and I still had to get the medicationings done!
I put on a thick dressing gown, went back to the wet room, and struggled to get the PPs on. Then, as I approached the cabinet top with the meds on it… 
Dizzy Dennis hit me, and I tumbled forward, hoping to get my hand on the wall, but 
, gave way, and I knocked an endless amount of medications and 
cleaners on the floor, as I went down. Hitting my nose on the edge of the floor cabinet. The blood flowed down my chin, chest, bulging stomach, and legs and onto the bloody floor that I’d just gone through agony to clean!
Then I had to clean it all again!
The filthy kitchen floor then has to be mopped. But I used the speed mop; it was much easier and quicker.
At long last, I could take a seat before trying again to medicate my nether and lower regions. I put the kettle on and went to medicate ‘things’.
I felt worn out, and it was only about eight-thirty. I did the red patches first, I think. The Harold’s Haemorrhoids. Cartilage Chlo and Carole and Arthur Itis’s knees were Phorpain-gelled. The ears were olive-oiled. Eyes dropped and sprayed. I put a foam tablet in the nose. Barrier creamed under the man-breasts and colossal stomach. Toothache spray was applied. Then, the most painful one. The Ketoconazole (Daktarin) cream on Little Inchies fungal lesion. Always the most painful. But I just laugh it off. 
I got the kettle on and turned on the computer.
Carer Joanne arrived. I told her of my calamities and failures. I had her in tucks. I think people would not believe what is happening to me every day is possible.
But it is! And shortly, there was some more ‘unbelievable’ (bad luck) to come. It was hard to believe, but then, it was for me! During Joanne’s first visit to see me, I emptied the tiny catheter day pouch, and something about the colour and size of a red ant came out and into the jug. What with the cloudy bits that look like fine cotton wool? I’m anticipating a house brick coming out next. Hahaha!
On with the belated blogging!
It was slow work, but it had to be done before I forgot any details. After Joanne’s second visit, things went all out of sync. Dizzy Dennis, Electric Shocking Sherida and Loss-of-Balance-Brenda took turns to have a go at me. Worse than these were the Mini-Seizures. A damned good job. I got the earlier bits on cause hours are missing.
And I thought yesterday was bad!
Carer Chris came; he kindly took the peed-on slippers with him when he put them in the laundry for me. Bless him. He also helped me into the other slippers.
I spent hours on this blog. Then, when it was getting darker, I gave up and made a meal. I took a photo of the frozen potato letters as I put them in the oven. But I forgot to photograph the served-up meal. Tsk!
The Liberty-Global-owned Virgin Media TV took ages to get started. Still, as long as 
Chairperson Mike Fries still gets his pittance of $123,254,000 as Vice Chairperson of the Board, President, and Chief Executive Officer at Liberty Global Ltd. The estimated Net Worth of Michael T Fries is at least $184 Million as of 1 May 2024. Mr. Fries owns over 185,522 Liberty Global Ltd stock units worth over $37,969,951; over the last 11 years, he sold LBTYK stock worth over $22,634,655. And has an open-ended expense account. During the Covid crisis, he received a Monthly Bonus of $1m.
In September 2021, Liberty Global announced the sale of its Polish operations to Iliad Group’s subsidiary Play (P4) for $1.8bn. The transaction closed on 1 April 2022. In July 2023, Liberty Global’s shareholders voted overwhelmingly for Liberty Global to redomicile from the United Kingdom to Bermuda.
Liberty Global Ltd. is a British-Dutch-American multinational telecommunications company domiciled in Bermuda, with headquarters in London, Amsterdam and Denver. Liberty Global operates through the following subsidiaries and shareholdings: ITV plc (United Kingdom) (9.9% shareholding), Platforma Canal+ (Poland) (17% ownership), Sunrise (Switzerland) (100% ownership), Telenet (Belgium) (100% ownership), Play Media, Play Sports, UPC Broadband, UPC Slovakia, Virgin Media Television, Giffgaff (88% ownership), Tesco Mobile (50% ownership), Virgin Media Limited (UK), Virgin Media Business Limited, Virgin Mobile (UK), Vodafone Group (4.9% ownership), VodafoneZiggo (50% ownership), Ziggo, Ziggo Sport, Ziggo Sport Totaal, Virgin Media O2 in the UK, Sunrise in Switzerland, O2 in the UK, Virgin Media in Ireland, Telenet in Belgium, (57.8% stake). The epitome of, and finest greedy Oligarchs!
Just thought I’d mention it.
I’m not jealous of Mr Fries, his money, good looks, or lifestyle. His 74-roomed, palatial, nine-acre, swimming pooled, tennis-courted, picturesque $6.2m home. Oh, no! I’m happy enough to live up here in the sky on the 12th floor of a 4-roomed counting-the-wet room here in Nottingham. I can cry, laugh, sing or not, and take tumbles virtually daily. With my crippling catheter bag, failing ticker, dodge cartilages, ailments, Arthur Itis, Vascular Vanessa, Dementia Doreen, Shaking Shoulder Shirley, Seizure-Sandra, Neck-Ricking Nigel, Lost-Balance-Brenda, Dizzy Dennis, Gladys Glaucoma, Acne & Eczema, Axonotmesis, Cognitive Impairment Iris, DVT, Electric-Shocking-Sherida, FND, Memory-Mangling-Malcolm, Diabetes2, and all the other ailments. Daily medicationings and taking two hours and a lot of pain to have a shave and shower. I can appreciate the Prime Minister taking away my fuel subsidy, increasing my rent and taxes, and the 20% increase in fuel cost in October… it doesn’t bother me in the slightest bit. 
Life, albeit within the flat, but my walking sticks help. I’ve got four of them, you know! There’s not one of them that I haven’t tripped over… where was I? Ah! Life is so good, I’m happy, contented… 
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I hobbled into the kitchenette to get the washing of the culinary nature done, taking this snap of the evening sky.
On the left here.
I dried the pots and took a slightly more zoomed-in photo of roughly the same area. Bootiful!
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I’ve had three rotten, wretched days on the trot now,
I got through them, not knowing how…
I fear a 4th, I have to acknown,
Is my lousy luck justice or verismo?
Life is like a permanent strappado,
Can I take another day like this, though?
Yes, I’ve coped, but badly hereunto,
Battling against the Whoopsiedangleplops flow,
Will I return to the beer, LSD & Vino?
I think for tonight, it’ll be mushroom risotto,
Either that, or I’ll just get blotto!
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TTFNski, Each!
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They are busy, thought this might cheer them up!
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T
Gorrit, this time.
I used the ready-made mini pot of gravy for the meal. It saved a lot of time in preparing real gravy. Shake the pot rigorously, then microwave for one minute, wait 30 seconds and heat for another minute. What could be easier?
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or 
during the day. Some were in which I was doing things, albeit making a mess of them, but I had no memory of them. One, in the afternoon, was a cracker. It was as if I just blinked, and two hours were lost. After the blink, I could not see that I’d done anything. Had I unknowingly nodded off, perhaps
05:25hrs: I stirred back reluctantly to life. (I’d had a dream that I’d died and was arguing with St Peter at his gates. No details were available; I was just getting irate with him over something. (Mayhap he wanted to send me back to earth?) Haha!
I cannot recall taking this, but I must have; it was on the SD card in order. Looking at it with the spyglass, it seemed rather shaky.
A reversal in evacuation stakes this morning.
I went back to putting on the Unisex Protection Pants today. Yesterday, the new Tena ones were a little loose, which meant Little Inchie and his lesion got scuffed a few times. Not that the pain bothers me. Oh, no! 
I got the 
out of the pouch holder relatively quickly. Mainly because it was so full, which helped.
I ripped the side of the leg bag getting it back on. I also knocked the burn scar on the right hand from the oven-singeing against the grab bar, the skin broke, and blood flowed.
Minutes before my first ‘Blank’, I took this snap of the Woodthorpe Court end car park.
A different type of nosh today.
I am a clot! With acne back on my clock!
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I’m unsure what or who to blame for today’s lunchtime disaster. 
may have been the natural culprit, but she might well have been supported to a degree, possibly, by 
, or maybe I had a 
, or even might have had a 
visit? It was embarrassing, annoying, angering, and so frustrating. I felt worth about tuppence after Kara found the mess, and sorted it for me. I’ll explain about this cock-up come 
now, to get it out of the road that I was so humiliated with committing. Here goes, then…
, and I went with dread in my innards to the wet room.
And there, in the midst of the man-made lake, the floor drain is not working because the shower has to be working for the drain to start. Kara bless her, got stuck into mopping up the flood and tipping; I think she said eight buckets of collected water in the WC. I’d left the damned hot water tap running again!
I ran her Obergruppenfurheress to tell her what had happened and that she would be late for her next appointment. I can imagine what was said about this. My blameworthiness got worse now, but it got even worse minutes later. Obergruppenfürheress Warden Deana and Brigade Fürheress Warden Julie both arrived with worse news. Julies flat below was flooded! My self-recrimination didn’t really need any help by being told they may have to have me evicted. Even if she had a smile on her face. Hehehe!
overnight. The problem was getting to sleep. I felt properly worn out as well, but Sweet Morpheus wasn’t letting me for an hour of more. Drifted off eventually. 
Not that it was planned, but I got the kitchen floor cleaned by using the Speed-mop. I wouldn’t use the mop and bucket, so as to save the hot water from running too cool, for when I planned this afternoon to have a jolly good wash and shaving session. (What with the later flood the hot water now being colder than the cold water, this 
did not happen. Huh!) Both cartilages were playing me up again.
Nearly missed this Kodak Tim photo I took when I was mopping the floor earlier. It was a good effort, but still pretty.
Into the wet room to use the 
.
I gathered the waste bags into a large bag and placed them near the front door. Then, I went into the kitchen to see what I could 
have for a treat for tonight’s meal. Potato chunks, peas and lamb burgers seemed a good idea to me. Then again, me and good ideas don’t really go together, if you know what I’m saying. Cause I have the tremendous ability to misread, miss-see, and miss-hear at the same time. Not to mention having a seizure, mind-blank, or forgetting where, what, why or how I was doing anything at any time.
Carer Chris returned the laundry, and I hung it up. Not the towels, I forgot to put them in the bag.
I took this shot of the front car park, but with little interest, I’m afraid. I was feeling so low about flooding Julie’s and my wet room. I think I’ve said above that ‘Guilt’ is the overbearing sentiment.
It suddenly went dark outside. This photo was taken on 
, and minutes later, the sun was coming through again?
I started to get the things ready for making a meal.
I’d left the hot water tap running in the kitchen sink this time!
. But, of course, this meant the water was cold again, and it ruined my hopes of getting the shower and shaving for tonight. I must get up early in the morning and get it done. My EQ just laughed at me when I wrote this? Wonder what are the odds of me getting up early? It will be 2½ days since I had a shower or shave. So I’m dirty bodily, struggling emotionally and mentally. 
I must get up as soon as I wake up… oh, the wet room might need more cleaning after using… I wish I 
I went to the wet room WC to empty the day pouch again. The urine smelt awful! What next should I moan and groan about?
But the potatoes let it down. They had been in the oven for longer that the 30 minutes it said on the wrapper, 40 minutes at least, but they were still undercooked. Disappointing! Everything else was great. With the help of sploshes of the ketchup, I did eat all of the potatoes… well, I was hungry!
She called to deal with me. She took off my diabetic socks. Brrr! She medicationalised me. She listened to my moaning about the events of the day. Well, she almost did. I can’t remember what it was about, but I’m sure we had a laugh or two. Likely from my tales of woe today?
I can’t even see it in the revealing photo?
I don’t want a day like this again!
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While doing the brewing,
And, I not long since when taking the shower shaving routine, that my right hanging-sack is swollen and so tender. Humph!
About 45 wee-wees later, I’d stopped drinking before going to the doctor and got things ready to go. But if the Carer is any later I may miss the bus… “I may miss the bus!”! You may not believe the farce that took place… However, by way of a cheer, the 
Arrived, and I asked him if he could help me with getting the does on, Or to be more precise, fasten the velcro on them. TY was happy enough to do that for me. I waffled too much, and the lad forgot to give me the second Omeprazole table, my fault. Treats selected in, on my insistence, thanks. Took the waste bag with him as he left. I wandered of again there, sorry.
blossomed.
When a lady got on who I’d not seen for ages, I started a chinwag with her. As she got to get off, I realised that we were on top of Mapperley Plains
, and she asked if she could call a taxi for me. Bless Her! 
began.
I got wrapped up well, remembered the Sample tube thingy, filled, of course. Hehe! 
We arrived at the next stop, and a lady and gent got on. It’s been so long since I saw them since I don’t get out much, and I greeted them like family and launched into questioning them about how they were getting on. The lady said she was sorry, but they were getting off at the next bus stop. Then a sickening feeling filled my stomach, with a self-hating mode coming on when I realised where we were, going in the opposite direction. I’d got on the wrong bus! 
mode, but it soon became one when I realised the problem I was going to have to get to the surgery on time now. 
This arrived within three minutes and five more, and we were pulling up at the Sherrington Park Surgery. The sun came out as I paid my dues. 
To whoever the lady was who helped dave the appointment for me. ♥
I’d got the appointment timing all mixed up again! Shouldn’t really be such a shock with my record, but so many in such a short space of time were worrying me a smidgeon.
I don’t suppose for one second that they bother my uninvited interloping brain resident, Dementia Doreen, do you think?
I told the Doc all about my four sleepless nights and the mushrooming, three-time it’s usual size tender right bit in my men’s department. I can’t be certain, but I thought I detected a little wry-smile creep into her expression.
what she said clearly. 
then. Haha! 
worse. I really am in the shit now, and have to walk to the chemist and then catch two buses to get home! 
There was only one really near-bothersome that happened en route.
. BY Gawd, SOSTH didn’t half sting for a bit. Good job, I didn’t go over. 
. Woke at about 03:30hrs and was soon back in the c1966, £300, second-hand charity-shop bought, crumb-containing, odour-retaining, Harold’s Haemorrhoid-testing, nauseatingly beige coloured, non-working, virus-breeding recliner again, after taking a wee-wee.