– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – I was in pain, shattered and weary when I got home. Not many photographicalisationing were taken. Plenty of naps and kips, but they were all interrupted by various pains springing me awake. Tomorrow is expected to be another busy day for the district Nurse, Warfarin Nurse, Caregiver Kara Financial, and Catheter Constrictionings. The Asda order is coming. As I was typing, I hoped to find a more bearable layout to ease it. Little Inchie is in such agony again with the tubing.
ARGH! This is not good!
Anyway, here’s the snaps.
Dark urine again. Fancy that!
The ankles and legs look better. Renaud’s in the toes. Time-killing crossword. Teeth bleeding after cleaning.
Back Home. I Fell asleep, woke up, and took this.
Blogging, doing the ode to the hospital.
Carer Christopher came, in need of nibbles. I’d fallen asleep watching the TV. Night bag on, my socks were taken off, and he washed the pots for me.
For the first time all day, I was in a position where the tube was not too painful. He recognised this and threw a quilt over me. Chris checked the taps, etc., turned off the lights, and departed.
① Peripheral Neuropathy Pete dying off neurotransmitters are not letting me sense the keyboard buttons as I press them, resulting in far too many corrections were and are needed; no doubt I’ve missed some of them. Ruining my concentration. ② The ankle electric shocks are much more frequent. ③ By far, the worst of these handicaps, ailments, pains, and frustrations is the unregulated nasty, agony-giving twinges emanating from the poor Little Inchie via the inserted catheter tube. This was much more unfortunate because I could not find a position where they ease off. I can sit still and be relatively pain-free, and then they return without me doing anything! I’ve tried adjusting the Protection Pants, but that doesn’t change anything. Yet, at times, I can be hobbling along with the walking stick, and the pain dissipates? As for bending down or stretching, they are a no-no. – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – I rose from the bed at 05:10 hrs. First, I detached the nocturnal catheter pouch.
Then, I went to the wet room; the Porcelain Throat was needed. Just a little painful.
This is a fantastic view from the kitchen window. Unfortunately, the blotches were caught in all the external photographs today, Humph!
Working on the blog, and a Carer arrived. Same chap as last week, a nice young man. He issued the medications and got the diabetic socks on my legs. With the pain from Little Inchie, I asked him if he could help me put on the just-delivered Depend pants. He willingly agreed to help me out. I got the pants pulled up, and that instant, the pain level from Little Inchie trebled! It was torture! I soon changed my mind, and at the same time, self-loathing erupted when I realised what I’d done… Again!I ordered the wrong size pants, Small instead of large! I’d pissed myself off, something wicked! The genitals were crushed as the catheter tube pulled tight! I grabbed the scissors post-haste and cut the PPs off. Then I asked the lad if he’d help me put on a pair of normal PPs. He was patient with me and assisted me once more. The pain continued anyway, off and on, without evident causation? These white pants are so thick that I think they catch Little Inchie more than the slimmer ones, but they are just as effective as the Depend ones. I ensured the lad was treated to nibbles and drinkies by showing my appreciation for his time. It was his last night shift call, and I felt a smidge sad at keeping him from getting home.
After he’d departed, I made a brew of Glengettie. I took this snap with the usual blotches on it. Nice colouring, all the same.
I made up a waste bag and got on with the blogging, albeit stumblingly and error-ridden. These white pants continued hurting things below. I took an extra Codeine, hoping it might ease things. Huh! Of course, it did nothing to help pain-wise.
Carer Kimberley arrived. She knew I was in pain and showed concern; bless her. I told her of the earlier woes with Little Inchie. I decided to hand her the box of 30 Depend pants: no, 29 now I’ve tried on and scissored off one pair. Hahaha! My wondering wrongly cost me a good bit of cash! But thought that if I sent the box to Meridian to issue or use someone else… with less of a midriff on them, and they have also been catheterised, then they could possibly use them in the event that they run out! ♬ If I can help somebody as I grovel along, Help somebody with Protection Pants or a song If I can help somebody from doing wrong, Do a bit of good before I’m gone… Then, my living shall not be in vain! ♬
I then ordered some large protection pants from the Amazon site. I made double-sure I’d ordered the correct size this time! Well, I did that last time (Well, I thought that I had) and still got it wrong, didn’t I? These were also dearer, but they looked more comfortable and seemingly had a waistband on them. We’ll see when they arrive. Amazon said they would deliver on Tuesday, which is good cause I’m going to Nottingham City Hospital tomorrow. To have the knees and ankles checked for Arthritis and Cartilage problems. Now there’s a word... problems! I just had a glancing idea for an ode, then. I’ll make a note and try it out for tomorrow’s Ode… then again, maybe not. Cause the lift to the City is coming really early, and I need to get things ready to go with me, they gave me a list… When I find it, I’ll check what’s on it. I must finish blogging early today to do the shower & ablutions and ready the clothing. I hope that a carer comes in the morning to help me with the pants and trousers, socks and shoes on, make sure I’ve got everything sorted and make sure that the flat is left safely… I’m nervous now, just thinking about what can go wrong! There’s no limit to that!
There were so many blotches on this snap of a puffer cloud that I was disappointed. I’ve tried cleaning the lens with a cleaner stick and impregnated tissues. Yet still they appear? Such are the mysteries of Woodthorpe Court, with the ghosts, wraiths, spectres, cacodaemons, apparitions, and other grotesqueries that haunt the hallways and lobbies, searching for Inchie to curse with lousy luck, create ambiguities, abstrucities, perplexities, misfortunes and botherations, to scare. Worry and confuse me! Cataract Katie, Neuropathy Pete, Doreen Dementia and Incogniscent Iris are the main culprits. There are others, of course.
There are beautiful clouds in the sky. But I suppose that’s where one would expect them to be. Hehehe!
I took this one from the balcony without opening the windows. I can see just one botch in it, which is hard to differentiate amongst the clouds.
The day catheter bag nearly caught me out yet again, with it suddenly filling up so quickly.
Carer Colin, I think it was, came on the next visit. He was a pleasant lad, but I often found it hard to hear what he was saying.
Later, the sun burst through, and I took this shot of the virtually mud-less end car park. A jolly good mixture of vehicle colours was on show for our perusal. The light blue one, as per usual, parked on the yellow chevron ‘do-not-park-here’ lines. But hey, why should I bother?
Getting a smidge darker out there now. Another gorgeous selection of clouds to find figures in!
Then, blow me, if half an hour later, out came the sun again, forcing her way through the ever-darkening clouds. Mayhap, a ‘Goodnight all!’ message? Hehehe!
Better get some fodder sorted out, then… off to the kitchenette, and I conjured up a simple meal for a simple, tired old man. I enjoyed this one, especially the cunningly cooked potatoes in the crock pot that I sliced while still hot, sprayed with oil, and put into the preheated oven for ten minutes with the vegetable pastie. I ate it all up, washed the utensils and plate, and swiftly fell asleep watching the goggle box.
Carer Richard arrived. He sorted the medications, and I asked him to remove the diabetic socks. I asked him if he could call earlier in the morning and explain the hospital visit. Said my farewells and climbed into the hospital bed so kindly supplied for me. It took a while for me to get into a position that didn’t give pain from the catheter tube, and I was soon off on the land of nod. Ahhh!
After reading this, I wasn’t up to doing any more bad news. It is Heartbreaking!– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – I’m not very well today. I started fair enough, but the news about the little girl put me on a low. Say no more.
Not good at all!
Oddly, some liquid splashed into the water, but it was not blood. Then the tank would not refill… well it did, but it took an hour over it.
Carer Helen arrived. Med’s sorted, then, she got the socks on for me. All done.
Blogging, but half-heartedly. Feeling a bit low, what with the snippet.
Carer Helen arrived. Picked up the least of the DVDs. Took nibbles and a drink.
Blogging.
Carer Joanne. No, it was Carer Kimberly, well, I’m not sure, meds, drinkie & nibbles.
Once again, the wee-wee in the was not good a good colour.
I can’t say why I took two of the photos, but apparently I did so.
COMMENCED
First, a heavy-duty visit to the Throne was called for, so I sat on the Throne. It soon became apparent that was in full charge of this morning’s evacuation operation. I waited for what was obviously going to be a ginormous release to begin. I counted the cracks in the ceiling: 22. Is it funny how the total is different every time I count them? I could feel the solid torpedo as it crept agonisingly slowly and ever more painfully towards daylight. I got the crossword book and pencil from the floor cabinet and tried the puzzle. Blimey, I was doing well with it. Then the concrete torpedo started to come properly, still very slowly, making me winch at first. But at least it got out, more than yesterday’s two failed attempts. As the pain subsided, I was so glad it was not messy and needed a marathon cleaning job. I had to flush the thingy a few times, but it went down eventually, and I set about shaving. There were a few more nicks and cuts this time, but nothing bothersome. I realised I’d forgotten to call the dentist to get a toothpaste prescription, so I used an old-looking tube of paste that had not been thrown out. I don’t think that was a good idea. Eurgh! Leaving the wet room, it dawned on me how well I did with the crosswording and how clear-headed I felt compared to usual. As I went to get the kettle on for my brew of tasty Glengettie tea, I took this snap of the morning clouds in view from the kitchen. I felt appreciative of how with it, I felt. I decided to add at the end of yesterday’s blog my decision to cut back on the time it is taking me now. I can’t see, and the shakes are getting worse, which has always been expected. I had no problem finding the words needed and made far fewer mistakes than usual while doing it. In fact, a was engaged. Of course, I knew it would not last long, so I hastily got the computer on to write about my decision. Of course, now I have to prevent myself from looking a twit by actually cutting back on the thing I love doing! The thing that is keeping me going. This may not work, you know. I did tremendously well with my concentration. For the first time in ages, I felt I was achieving something on my own; that was my idea… of course, we’ll have to see how it goes. I’d got near the end and was about to read through it, and the Carer came in. I think I had him call last weekend. His name was Aliga. Nice chap. He remembered to remind me to take the Vit B12, the lad remembered from last week! I forgot to ask him to put the diabetic socks on, though. Due to our waffling throwing me out of kilt. I realised after he was gone that this essential interruption had killed my bit of unexpected clarity of mind and semi-mental alertness. or . I imagine that after the lad had gone, I must have had a mind-blank or seizure because I had no idea what I was doing until chimed out four hours later. As far as I can tell, nothing had been done on the blog at all in those four hours? It was arriving. I was back in the land of confusion. Those few early hours were so pleasant, clear, and translucently appreciated. Will I ever get another one like it? I pray so. Kimberley was like fresh air when she arrived. She noticed that I was not wearing the diabetic socks; bless her, and she got them fitted first thing for me. ♥ . Medications were given, and we had a little natter. As she departed, I sat for a moment to try and identify the differences in my mind compared to earlier on. The worries, fretting, and depression in my state had all returned; they had never left in years, yet they did this morning. I’d like to solve the problem of finding out why I was so… well it must be happy and contented for those first few hours today. All a part of the “Mysteries of Woodthorpe Court, with the hobgoblins, spectres, gnomai, phantasms, ghosts, the grotesque succubae, extraterrestrials, ectoplasms, spirits, or the Fata Morganas, that have been sent to taunt, irritate and terminate my already limited saneness of mind?”, I suppose.
As I sat there, I felt the need to return to the Porcelain Throne. Thinking there would be no rush, I didn’t exactly respond immediately. That was a mistake, and I should have been aware of it with my changing evacuation state. I did not make it to the WC tub in time! I’d already been lifted by the early morning clarity of mind moments. Then lowered with disappointment when the worrying and fretting returned. Now, the embarrassment and shame joined in. Not to mention the washing and cleaning up needed afterwards. A 100% turn-around in my evacuations within an hour or so between the two visits. Life can be such a bugger, can’t it, when one gets older. This cloud shot on the right is possibly my best-of-the-month pareidoliaising photo. I took it through the kitchen window and had to stretch a bit to get it. Hence the external wall was caught in the shot on the left, which gave more of an impression of an angry cloud face in sky. Furrowed highbrows, eyes, and a magical nose. I thought it was great. Carer Aliyas has been, and he took a photo of the day bag on my leg for me.
Time to get some nosh. Vegetable soup will do me.
I spotted the short, sharp shower spots shimmering steadily down the window pane. I took a Kodak Tim snap of the raindrops falling down the windows. Then the rain stopped! Another selection of late shots, that are without doubt an absolute Pareidolians Delight.
I see several partially distorted faces, including one that is ‘Scream-like’. I also see a spaceship, a ghost, caves and caverns, and the moon’s surface area. Great! Oh, and I’ve just noticed a Scottie dog’s face, too! Middle photo.
I put the potato chunks in the oven. They baked up well, nice and crispy, just as I like them. This added a crunch to the soup. The soup. with its added can of garden peas.
Then, the bowl again, this time with the chunky baked potatoes added to the mixture. The gravy was made, and a splash of Worcester Sauce was also in there.
Well, I soon got that one scoffed away—too quickly, maybe, as then he started his imitation of imminent regurgitation & pains. I went to get the washing up done and found, to my amazement, that I’d left the It’s completely cold water now! That’s three times this week I’ve left the hot tap running. As Tim Price advised, I’m going to ask the Council if I can be allowed to buy auto-turn off taps and have them fitted. The bank manager might not like it. arrived, medicated me and took off my socks. I turned off the TV, and sorted getting into the bed. Not easy as things were laid out, so I moved some things a little to make more room for the Carers to get about. And more space for me to haul my legs up on the bed. Messy, but it had to be done. Moved the over be table in close, with a bottle of water, the torch and the mobile on it. Next, I toyed with the remote control for the bed movements. Not the easiest of things to read in the torchlight. But I had to turn the lights of and use the torch to get into it. I managed to get the top end lower, but now I have the end bit raised up wonder my knees. I’ll see how that goes.
First view with Kodak Tim. The clouds are still different today.
Whoops!
Off to the wet room to empty the catheter pouch out, and tried again on the Throne... Oh, dear!
Blogging was a slow job; I’m going to have to give up. Carer Joanne turned up earlier than usual. Always nice to see her. A little laugh available is good!
The Mystery Chest Pains are back now. Suppose it might be something to do with the reluctance of the bowels to produce anything?
The clouds are even more beautiful now.
I’m blogging away, but now I’m bothered with the card reader reading the cards. I’m fed up! It takes about four tries to read the cards every time I use it. Not good! Gloom and doom! Later I took another shot of the kitchen sky view.
The shrunken in the wash new dressing gown was washed twice, and now the pockets are hanging off, and the belt loops are loose, ready to drop off.
Any idiot could work this one out… But I couldn’t!
Sorry about this… But, my physical and mental conditions are making things too time-consuming for me to cope with writing a full blog. I’ve been on the computer often for 18 hours on the trot. Stopping for nurses, deliveries, and/or Caregivers calling. Getting back to what and where I was is so confusing. Thus, taking me even more time to catch up and work rings out. I so loved doing them as well. I’ve decided to try to do the top part, including Cartoons, Odes, Snippets, etc. Medical appointments, and will add any photographs taken if I have time and the computer lets me. Maybe a description of any Whoopsiedangleplops, if any. (IF? Hahaha!) I’ve had to make this decision, and making decisions is one of my later-in-life problems. The mind and memory blanks and now the non-epileptic seizures are getting a little more frequent, so much that often don’t mention them as anything worthy of going in the blog. They are diurnal. My concentration seems to have retrograded this morning; hence, this is written while things are clearer in my head. (How long for? Who Knows.)
They soon returned. The vacillating, wavering, indecision, hesitancy, uncertainty, hemming and hawing, shilly-shallying, dilly-dallying, concentration-distracting, fretting, worrying, fussing, panicking, and stressing are rife, too often for me now. disconcertions, embarrassments, self-loathings, misperceptions, tizzies, misunderstandings, apprehensiveness, topsy-turviness, vagueness, and an invaded brain full of a salmagundi of unwanted moods and modes, including, at times, the odd hallucination, fantasy, and stubborn delusion. Common sense rarely makes an appearance. But it did this morning, making this decision! I still await the appointment to see a Dementia psychologist. Glaucoma, cataracts and knee operations. But it is the brain that needs help more, I think. I can’t find anyone with the same symptoms to talk with. I believe FND is part of the cause.
After talking to the lady at the audio clinic and finding out that she had FND, I found I had every symptom she mentioned worrying about. The effects are so weird that she said she believes no one believes her – ditto! But it’s not easy to understand or diagnose, let alone treat it. I agree with her about her frustrations. My Doctor gives me the same feelings. It must be hard for anyone to take in.
Glad I got this on record while my head is clearer now. I can get back to being me when my mind abandons me again and wanders off.
Shaving while standing in a bowl of antiseptic disinfectant to clean the feet, I could not reach, resulted in a cut-free session! I can’t say the same for teeth cleaning, cracked lips or nose. Oh, and of course, as per usual, , & were leaking the haemoglobin freely.
By the time I’d finished shaving and got myself disentangled from the Dettol-watered bowel, the floor in the wet room was a bloody mess. It reminded me of that bloodied thingy movie in the shower. Psycho, was it called? I used the water in the bowl and tipped it on the floor to brush it down the shower drain on the floor. But I forgot to turn the shower power on to make the drain work. Galore! ensued The first thing was to move the medical stuff away from the water. Naturally, the bending needed set off the final lesion and Harold’s Haemorrhoids bleeding again, just to add to the chaos, pain and increasing frustration that was building up inside me! Then I had to leave the wet room to get to the power switch to turn it on in the hallway… on exiting, I walked into the doorframe, which immediately brought Sweet to life. Crying was considered as an option. As was spitting, cursing and banging my head against the wall. Maybe wailing out as loud as I could… I’m not certain I didn’t actually do that, anyway?
I switched on the power box and hobbled back into the wet room. Gawd Struth! The place looked like an even bigger mess than earlier. The blood was sinking into everything it came in contact with; I just could not move it with the shower spray. So, more pain, I had to use the mop and bucket with bleach and Dettol in the water. But I finally got it looking better. Not properly clean, though. But the domestic help, which was once a week, for 3 weeks. No show for three weeks now. Then, I medicated the delicate areas again. And getting into the protection pants was a smidgen difficult.
She had stiffened up something awful with all the bending and movement she’d been forced into. Just getting the leg in the pants required the use of the picker-upperer, and some cunning tactics had to be employed with this task. I got my bum up against the sink and lowered the pants with the picker-upperer, I needed both hands, so I was taking a bit of a risk if the bum slipped, I was going to go down. The right hand helps lift the leg up high enough, and the left-hand uses the picker-upperer to guide the opening to the foot. On the fifth try, I got the leg in! I had to take a break to recover from the effort. Taking the photo here on the left. Phew! Then getting the left leg in, which was a lot easier in the pants. , was not in such a bad mood. Hehehe! At last, I got the PPs on and slippers on. Only to find out that they had gotten wet and bloodied during the Wet Room Rumble! Aching, hurting, wet, and somewhat peeved off, I checked the taps (faucet) were turned off… and needed another sitting on the . What a change! I cleaned things up yet again. Then, carefully avoiding any shoulder charges on the doorframe, I meandered out to the kitchenette. A thickish fog had descended all over Sherwood, probably further, too. Then I carefully limped to the main (other) room and to the balcony doors, to Kodak Tim the bog from there. It looked a little bit eerie with the blue hue. The Wet Room Farce cost me over 2½ hours, not to mention the pain, blood, and temper not doing my health very good! I didn’t recover properly from the episode. strangely, the tube inserted into poor , calmed down and was less bother for the rest of the day that it’s ever been? Puzzles me this; not complaining!
Sorted the bags out. A new carer arrived.
Made a brew, and started at long last on the blog.
Another new Carer arrived.
A long one! During this, two caregivers called, and I have no memory of them at all! I saw they had signed in the log. Work, albeit messy and error-prone, had been done on the blog. Also, on CorelDraw?
I took these Kodak Tim shots of the wonderful clouds in the slowly darkening sky.
The usual fatigue dawned on me; I’d already got some lamb burgers in the oven. So, I closed down the computer and made myself a much-needed meal. So glad I opted for the lamb.
The catheter day pouch colour was the lightest it’s ever been! But, an hour later when I was getting into the bed… yes the bed, not the itch-creating, bruise-giving, catheter-tube-tugging, crumb-decorated from my nocturnal nibbling, God-awfully uncomfortable, cringingly grotty, no longer working, dirty beige, anti-sleep designed, c1966, second-hand bought for £300 ten years ago from the charity shop, recliner. But the Social people donated an ex-used hospital bed! Initially, kicked off as I settled. Then I worried that I’d left the tap running when I washed the pots, so I got up to check on them, now realising how early I’d settled in the bed; it was not even fully dark out there. So, I got the oven tray I’d missed doing earlier and started to wash it. rang out, and in came Carer Richard. This, as it so often does, left me a smidge—what’s the word? Confused will do. After Richard left, and I was climbing back into the ex-NHS bed, I was in panic mode! Did I turn the taps off? I went to investigate-Cragknangles! The hot water had been left running and ran cold!
I’m hoping for a better day tomorrow!
Hard to believe, but I only managed to find two of them. Sad, innit! Hahaha!,
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
‘s mass of flaked-off skin covered my spectacles, chest, and dressing gown, and left a reasonable deposit on the floor and £300 second-hand shop purchased, c1966, welt-causing, uncomfortable, not-working, itch-inspirational, crumb-containing recliner. kicked off the moment I moved my left leg. But her joint was utilised to help me bend down to clean up my exuviated skin. The pain and efforts resulted in many visits from , , and .
Carer Chris arrived; he did not put the socks on for me because I’d hoped to get the ablutioning done later today – I didn’t. Well, several of them. The day shot by, and I hadn’t even started this blog until Saturday (today). I flaked out far earlier than I usually do. Gave up, ate, and spent hours trying to get to sleep. were rampant. It’s as if they knew I’d drifted off. Sleep? Erm…what’s that then? Hehe!
I keep hoping the Doctor’s receptionist will call to arrange for me to see the medics. Then, if I remember, I can explain my problems to them.
This was likely the worst out-of-it day ever. Thank heavens, I took some pictures. I really cannot recall taking many of them.
I have to see the quack about this. Then again, as last time, a long time ago, when I told her of the situation, she seemed all calm and unconcerned. She mentioned that I’m getting older and have many problems, as do so many other elderly patients. It is to be expected. I almost apologised for mentioning my worries. Hahaha! She’s right, all the same.
Here’s the memory promoters via .
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – You’ll notice that no night bag was attached. This is due to my complicated, infected with brain; and, of course, dying. Maybe some effect from . Possibly in amalgamation with the failed operation, cleverly leaving me with double-vision, and some wonderfully uplifting new skills, like walking into door frames, tripping over unseen objects, and the latest, bending down and hitting left-open cupboard door corners when rushing to turn off hot water tap (faucet), that I so regularly leave to run cold. Hang on. That prompted me to check the taps now! No taps were running, and neither the hob nor the oven was left on… I closed the left-open fridge door! I am so glad I wrote this bit now. My food could have decayed! As I am. Hehehe! Where was I? Oh, yes, the urine nocturnal pouch I forgot to put on. Remembered to ask the last Carer to take off my socks last night.
The Iceland order arrived. The only good thing about the order. They had Heinz pickled Ketchup on special offer. Food! . A close-up of Harry Ramsden’s fish supper planned for tonight, well, tomorrow night’s feast.
.
It was nowhere near as bad as yesterday’s. But coming around afterwards, it took me a long time to get into a condition where I could tackle checking the blog work. It didn’t help that I had made so many errors.
Fantastic, beautiful cloud shots.
The catheter pouch has filled much slower today. But the colour was much worse. Maybe a 5 on the NHS chart. I’ll ask a carer to check it from this photo for me later, which I did. Joanne said it was a class 6!
It’s getting dark now. After another hour or so on this blog, I felt weariness, so I gave up.
Back to the wet room.
Took this photo. I had a pareidoliaising feast with this one. I thought, can others see what I do in it. In the morning, I copied it in CorelDraw and doctored it with a lot more ‘contrast’, and what I could see became more explicit in the resulting picture. Can anyone see them? The teddy bear, ghost, face, or the animal? I love pareidoliaising.
Was the catheter pouch still a deep colour?
The late evening clouds seemed to be determined to come to the fore. You can imagine, methinks, what I saw at first with my left double-vision eye. Haha!
So weary now. I made a quick meal. The bland, pale, undercooked Iceland chicken legs, substituted for the not available thighs, tasted like cardboard would, I imagine. The Heinz beans were also unremarkable. The instant potatoes were very nice, especially with the Heinz pickle-flavoured ketchup.
Took this last shot of the sky. I was pleased with this one.
I managed to find five of them.
I’m yawning now. But once again, would Sweet Morpheous welcome me? NO! Heaven knows how long it took me to nod off. I had a couple of , which jumped me awake, but I soon nodded off again. I did well once I got off, about 6 hours or so. Gleaned by waking up a lot later than usual, at 05:00hrs.
4:00hrs: I woke feeling oddly a little sprightly (for me). As I tried to rise from the c1968, tatty, scruffy, unkempt, virus, microorganism, bug, bacterium, bacillus, germ, parasite producing, uncomfortable, incommodious, unwelcoming and disease-fermenting second-hand, eyesorely-horrendously grungy beige-coloured, £300, charity shop bought, crumb-retaining, moth-eaten, non-working, itch-encouraging, Haemorrhoid Harold testing, catheter tube yanking, recliner. As I did so, gave way on me. The bum bounced down into the recliner, and I got an instant comment from Harold’s Haemorrhoids as they burst, bled and stung. Bad enough, you may think? This is where comedy came into the morning’s equation! I’d fallen on the TV remote, and there I was in the middle of cursing and verging on self-pity as the TV came on. That momentarily confused me, realised what had happened and got some kitchen roll in the Protection Pants, as I now had , in front, along with bleeding at the back! I lost the first hour of the day cleaning up and medicating. I Got the nocturnal catheter pouch off.
Then a dawned. As I was metamorphosed into an old, miserable, grouchy, depressed, frustrated, bleeding, in pain, downhearted, depressed, melancholy, forlorn, glum, demoralised, fed up, down in the dumps, in the doldrums, unnerved, chagrined, miffed, sour, sulky, sullen, surly, saddened, subdued, almost sepulchral Inchy.
But within minutes, a stroke of good luck eased my misery by taking my mind off of it. As I was leaving the wet room, I clouted my head, this time on the door frame! 99% of the time, it will be the right shoulder. Blame can be attached to: ,, , or any of the ailments really. On this occasion, the culprits were, I think, and or . The eyes are worse than ever now, and I’m sure I’ll have kicked the bucket before my turn comes for the operation. But, sorting youngsters out early is more vital. They have the prospect of living many years with their sight adjusted. We long in the tooth old things, must accept this.
This morning, the sky was a glorious blue hue again. My confusion was worse than usual for the next hour or two. I got out of the wet room, put some Dettol Cream on my head, and got on with the waste bag sorting. A wet, warm sensation from the lower regions. I went back to the wet room to investigate.
There was a smidgen more bleeding from Little Inchy, but it’s not worth mentioning compared to the tsunami that was released yesterday. Throughout the day, the bleeding was far, even less than it is usually. Had a wash & shave. Then checked the state of the ankles. No doubt that my was getting better bit by bit.
The areas where the are coming from remain a little rough and red. No pain when the shocks don’t come, and when they do hit, it wakes you if you’re sleeping every time! But the pain lasts for about two seconds, if that. is to blame.
Getting lighter now, I took another Kodak Tim picture from the kitchen window again. The streetlights were off now. As per usual, the end car parking turnaround area had its regular little bit of a mudslide in it again.
Carer Shaquille arrived. I made an order the J Sainsbury’s for next week. Blogging.
Amending, blogging, correcting, blogging-getting more things wrong, blogging… well, you get the message. Tsk!
Carer Kara arrived. She sorted out the banking problem and said she would try to get in touch with Norton about the three times the bill was taken from the debits another time. She ran out of time today. Care Victor, did the last two calls. I took these photos later. Then went into what I believe was a non-apolectic seizure. Not a mind-block. Because it was like blinking, and an hour had gone, but nothing was done whatsoever when I came around back to this miserable existence. After the , I’d discover I’d been doing the blog, mopping the kitchen floor, or started cooking something while out of it. A procedure Hehe! Nothing gets done as if I’d fallen asleep, but I know it wasn’t that. I think. might play a part in this ailment. At times, I come back to the reality of stinging pains in the lower regions from the catheter bag being too full, and I have to get it emptied swiftly, ASAP. The sunset was about over by the time I regained a modicum of brain control, rejoined the menagerie of life on offer, and got back to the reality and struggle of living.
I DIDN’T
I gave up on the blogging.
Made myself a meal. It tasted delicious, too! I could feel my burnt finger on the oven rack and the pain of dropping the hot oven tray onto my foot. Landing on my . But the meal was worth the hassle.
Wrote by Inchie c1953
Search for the meaning of truth,
Look until you’re long in the tooth,
You may find it, Gawd’s strewth,
Facts will have to be dealth…
With those who demand wealth, Humans want for themselves,
Oligarchs will believe in elves!
23:50hrs: Today was not one of my better days: not that I have any better days, of course. Just the odd one, less farcical or more confusing, the odd busy day, seizure day, Out-of-it day. Whoopsiedangleplop and or Accifauxpas days, or a mixture, would be a typical day for me. Today was dominated over all other ailments, but the sheer pain I’m still going through with the Catheter tube in Little Inchie… is more painful for longer periods than it has ever been. Standing up, sitting down, bending, stretching, and hobbling is all agony. Honestly, I’m sitting here typing this, and the stinging pains from Little Inchy are atrocious. I am going to take extra Codeines now; it’s the only thing that touches the pain relief.
I’d risked taking off the PPs in hopes that there would be less irritation pulling on Little Inchie, but the pain just carries on the same. Now, all I want is for the fungal lesion to start bleeding, and I’ll have the right bloody mess to contend with and sort out.
I’d better start the Diary.
04:00hrs: I woke full of life, contented and joyfully… Lying Git!
Urine is even darker.
This is a terrible Kodak Tim kitchen view effort from Inchy. He tried two more, but they were worse. Haha!
Carer Richard arrived. Again, I forgot to ask him to put the diabetic socks on. Tsk!
While starting the blog off, out of the blue, the pain from Little Inchie and the point of the tube entering kicked off. No matter what I tried, the pain persisted. Even took some extra Codeine and Paracetamol, but no effect! It was so bad this time, and persistent with it. Later, I took the PPs off, but it made no difference. It’s wearing me down.
End car park view.
Blogging not going well at all. Concentration crap, and feeling a smidgen sorry for missen.
Carer Selina arrived. She was on a domestic call but didn’t have time to do the hoovering or mopping up, which was all I needed. She insisted on helping me get a wash, shave, etc. It was embarrassing in the extreme. But she was good at the job and knew where and when I needed help, particularly in the getting dressed stage.
I medicated, got the dressing gown on, and she put on the diabetic socks for me. I thank her. Selena took the laundry down for me. Bless her.
Unbelievably, early in the afternoon, the pains still haggling at me, I felt the daily weariness dawn on me again. I made a meal, intending to get some sleep in afterwards.
Carer Marie arrived. She was a little better with her coughing today. I called it the Lurgie, and she said it was called the ’30-Day Cough’. I bet that’s what Sister Jane has got? Marie was still not herself; well, she was. What I meant was she wasn’t her usual bubbly self. But we managed a natter laugh as she tended to me.
I settled in the £300 second-hand shop bought in 1966. Moth-eaten, bedraggled, grotty, cringingly beige-coloured, much-dilapidated, crumb-containing from my nocturnal nibbling, bug-ridden, itch-inspiring, not working recliner, in search of sleep.
Forgetting all about the chips in the oven!
However, I found Sweet Morpheus within minutes. It was bliss… Then Carer Christopher arrived to wake me up. He attached the night pouch, and off he went, all without turning the light on, thoughtful that was. As he was about to leave… … I detected the smell of the burning oven chips! Got up and struggled with the pain from Little Inchie and carrying the night bag to the kitchen. . Too well burnt even for me! I checked each one and rescued three of them to have itch the meal. I substituted some potato chips from a packet and put them on with the three rescued chips. .
The low taste rating was due to the sickly sweet frankfurters I’d bought. Urgh!
I soon polished off fodder, not the frankfurters, though.
I washed the pots, settling down again after getting some sleep. Arrived and immediately noticed the pain I was in. He called someone and told me they thought it might be just an infection. Someone will call to look at it tomorrow. (We’ll see) Kind of him to bother.
Surprisingly, I eventually found sleep. About three hours later, my alarm started. This put an end to any chance of further sleep. I rose, not a little confused as to what time and day it might have been (23:40 hrs).
Nearly falling over the forgotten, I’d got a night bag on the way to the wet room. A bit messy.
I returned to the main room and realised I’d left the nocturnal pouch in the wet room, then emptied it.
I made up the waste bags into one large green one, and although I felt vague, the pains from Littler Inchie seemed less severe. Keep your fingers crossed!
05:10hrs; Got up to get the ablutions done before the Carer arrived. A lousy ablution session… mind you, the evacuation was a good one. Hahaha!
The blogging was another nightmare. mistakes, errors, corrections and frustrations.
It was Sister Jane. Meridian Care had phoned her to see if my Caregiver had arrived yet. Poor Jane is not an early riser—the opposite, actually. She was coughing away; she’s got the Lurgie, too. Naturally, she did not know. I expect a late call this morning. But it doesn’t matter at all to me. We had a natter, and I listened to her problems for a change. She asked why they did not call me. But, to be fair, they may have when I was in the wet room. Also, I’m not sure if my new telephone number has been passed on to them or not. I gave it to the flats Meridian set-up. He came later anyway. No problems.
The pain from Little Inchies Fungal Lesion was horrendous all day long. It didn’t calm down until well late in the night. The Carer saw my state and rang for advice. Said they would send someone to check on it on Monday. We’ll see. – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
Dark, too dark again.
Tried to take a photograph or two of the moon. The first one was fairish, the second warped.
Off to the wet room for a shower, shave and shush.
The preshave medicationalisationing was a fiddly and, at times, painful experience. It was the most painful and medicating session ever! Things have not been right down there since the last nurse replaced the catheter. I don’t need to move, and he hurts! If I could, I’d bottle the pain and send it to the Doctors with a note: “Here you are, try some of this now will you listen to me and help?”
Ablutions were sorted, alarm wristlets and alert bands on, and my ear holes were olive oiled. I struggled to stop stopped and creamed. , Cream on the . Barrier Creamed all around . Then tended to the bruise from the INR blood drain. Doesn’t usually show up this bad The feet & ankles were looking healthier. I turned to leave with the waste bin in hand and traditionally gave the door frame a charge with my right shoulder, setting off a few minutes’ worth of pain from .
Worst Ablution Session in a long time.
Took the made up bin gag to the front door. Can you see a face in the carrier bag? Think of Red Dwarf’s Kryten’s face. I could see it. Hehe!
The carer was late, not that it mattered. Half an hour later, the landline rang out, making me jump. It was Sister Jane. Meridian Care had phoned her to see if my Caregiver had arrived yet.
I concentrated on the hard slog of blogging for hours and hours; just not very successfully. Little Inchie was so painful at times, which did not help me concentrate on blogging. Humph!
Carer Kimberley arrived. She could not give me any painkillers because it had not been 4 hours between calls. So I took some Paracetamols. The pain from poor Little has never been worse. I took off the PPs I put on after washing, hoping it would not irritate things as much. But no, it’s just as bad now. With not having the pants on, I caught myself catching the catheter tube more often; AARGH!
What an amazing hue!
Despite the discomfort and sheer agony from little , the wee was flowing freely.
I added a packet of PP’s to the Asda order for Tuesday. I tried some different kinds this time
Carer Israel arrived while I was struggling to walk into the kitchen and showed his concern for me. That was nice. He rang someone and spoke to them. 111 probably. He told me they said it was likely to be an infection and a nurse would be calling to check it out tomorrow. Bless his cotton socks. He also had a quick sweep-up in the kitchen for me when he saw how painful it was for me to bend, stretch, bend, walk and keep a hold on things. I much appreciated his efforts.
Back on the blog. Then noticed how bright it looked outside, and I took this truly wonderful shot with … I love this one. . Bootiful!
. Zoomed-in shot. . Wider shot.
Burnt to perfection! Just how I love them to be.
. What a magnificent view, From my kitchen window, too, I’m pleased with these two, I went into Smug-Mode, anywho, Not a smudge, blotch or curlicue, Decent sky shots were overdue, Best view, hitherto!
