Another ran out-of-time-day. Sorry if it is out chronologically, mistakes-wise or if other errors appear. Mostly been created from photos and what few memory notes I scribbled – the brain seems to have gone on strike! It’s the in thing nowadays!
Took the catheter bag of myself this morning – I had to cause the need of the Porcelain Throne was urgently needed, and with the other clarities etc., over the last two days with tripping and treading on the tubing, I thought it best.
Over the first hour of actioning, my magnificent muscular, fit handsome body from the terrible night’s sleep, I had to use the Throne no less than four times! Every one of them was messy and gooey, with cleaning ups needed.
After the first session, I decided to get the ablutioning done.
Part way through, I was trying to stop the third shaving cut from bleeding at the time; I had to use the Throne again.
Suddenly flooded the mouth, I think I must have broken off a bit of tooth near the gum. I got up automatically to get some toilet paper to use to stem the flow… but the evacuation was still taking place.
I did genuinely feel .Nothing new there, then!It took me ages to clean up again, and I was beginning to get self-irritated!
Back to the front room, now attired in my day clothes but no socks, I’ll ask my mate to help with those. A bit nippy this morning.
After a while of computing, the catheter started itching. The catheter bag’s elastics had dropped down the leg.
However, Richard arrived then. He got the medications sorted and told me I had to take the new Antibiotic course again, starting now. So, I did.
He then told me, as I showed him the calendar… I’d put the Catheter removal on a wrong day, it was today, not tomorrow, so I changed it.
I asked him if he’d help me get the specks on, please.
He said it would be best to ask the nurse/s when she/they take off
the catheter to put them on for you. To avoid any hassle while removing it? So I said I would. I’ll get something right today… surely I must?
Gave him some treats in thanks, and Richard checked the taps and stove.
Off he sent on his rounds. Bade him all the best and thanked him.
An hour or so later, when I was busily making cock-ups, and mistakes and forgetting what it was I was going to write after correcting the grammar I’d already written… I think? The was needed again.
But this time, unlike the eleven visits I’d made yesterday, had lost his grip on the process, and from nowhere, unexpectedly, my old friend had taken over command…
I was getting fed up with getting nowhere with the crosswords for ages. Counter the cracks on the ceiling… even had to give up on that. and are getting slowly worse. I picked my nose, whistled, and eventually, a mini-evacuation shot out of its own accord – the movement was over in seconds! annoying somehow.
Ah, a Highlight Event!
The beautiful DVT-Warfarin Haematology nurse arrived as I was getting off of the . I thought at first it was the door chime ringing, and rushed to get the trews up, got out of the wet room door (And casually shoulder charged the door frame as I left the room), and realised it was the intercom going (It being lit-up helped me notice it, Hehe!)
Hristina asked me how the hospital visit went as she came in. Now that was lovely of her! ♥ And she listened when I told her, too! Wonderful!
Computing again. I decided this time, I would focus on a venom. I was tenacious in my determination to concentrate on what I was trying to do.
I think I went into a slight . It didn’t last long…
Mistakes, ha! Sometimes I see them as thumbing my nose at the puritans. That phrase I stole from a fellow WordPress blogger & poet named Paul. Thanks, mate! I’ve been waiting for a suitable time to use it. (And remember it!
Visits from, and a nasty, but very rare in a sat down position put an end to my planned venture into pretending I could be capable again.
Instead of acting like a wordsmith and getting on with the blogging, I had to go to the wet room to try and stop bleeding. Yes, the dance had tugged at the Catheter tube in Little Inchie… bloody? Bloody sore at this moment still! Even delicate might be the word. Tsk!
But it turned out lucky that I did go to the wet room.
The catheter pouch was on the point of bursting, I think. Again, I had a job to pull up the trouser leg, so dropped them instead and emptied the bag
I decided to get the potato out of the crock-pot. checked that it was cooked before she checked the taps and turned off the heater for me.
I sliced the overcooked potato and got it in the oven with the last of the potato rostis in the oven to crisp them up. The last of the tomatoes and the vegan frankfurters (which tasted great!) and along with the last of the pots of strawberry jam thingumajig dessert.
Later, not sure what happened between this and the last thing, a touch of , methinks.
I do recall taking these pictures, though. I’m pretty sure I took them in SCN Handheld Nightshot Mode.
Not that they came out very well, although the bottom one of the car park was not too bad. A touch of eeriness about it? Obviously, the first one was taken like that on purpose. Ahem!
Arrived for the late-night call, and I was watching TV.
We had a little natter, and Richard changed the catheter night bag.
We had a minute or two of pleasant nattering away, but the lad was ready for his bed, bless his cotton socks. I went with him, catheter bag in hand, to the door and locked it when Rich had left. They don’t like me doing this, but I can’t get the picture of the yobboes who came into the flat one night. If the key-safe would work for use, it would not be a problem.
Then I got on the computer again, re-determined to get it done.
Not sure how I managed to take this photo. It must have been as I was on the computer, and the TV was still on. Trigger-Finger Problems? Hehe!
Rotten night again. Forever waking up with a jolt! .
What bits I can remember, Are we still in December? I’m feeling slow and dumber… Indeed, the body is getting plumper…
I’m out of my comfort zone… Yet, to joyfulness, I’m prone? Nowt’s changed, still home alone? Gone deaf, can’t hear the phone! Eyesight bad, moan, moan, moan! Can it be due to my testosterone? The computer is like a battle zone! And I can’t find my mobile phone!
I still feel unbothered, most macabre? Constantly talking to myself, jibber-jabber! Had no drink, I should be sober! Memory Maureen failing… whencever, Is it the Hemp, Simvastatin, whatever?
I spent 8+ hours on the snippet blog new, Endless mistakes, all needing a review… The night Carer arrived, she had the blues… I’d not planned food… sausage or a stew? Still upbeat… I asked her for a pas de deux! She replied: ‘You know what you can do!”
I finished the new blog; it was mostly crime… Then again, Nottingham’s news is all the time! Got a meal late, morning time, but that’s fine! Got around to doing this blog’s design… The notepad… I just couldn’t find!
Saturday I can only blame Dementia Doreen… Cocking things up, behind the scene… The computers got a wobbly screen! Cartilage Cathies pain… I want to scream… Yet things are going like a dream? Well, no! So many cock-ups, unforeseen, Dropped and broke, my little green tureen! New pains arrive around the spleen… Laundry returned, more creased than it’s ever been! Yet I’m singing to myself? It’s almost obscene! Cataracts! I can hardly see the flatscreen! I’m losing it… is life just a smokescreen? I was unbothered, almost contented, serene? I’m as lackadaisical as a circumforanean… I’m clinging onto semi-sanity, it would seem? I blame Dementia Doreen, I deem!
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What Bits I Can Recall
Well, I’ve found page one of the reminder notes. I’m so unbothered at the moment, still don’t know why I feel this way or how long it will be before the Dracula Depression returns. What’s going on here? Have I been given a ‘Happy Pill’ or something? It seems yesterdays ‘Couldn’t-care-less’ scenario is still with me?
The ghosts, wraiths, spectres, apparitions, and other grotesqueries haunt the hallways and lobbies. Worry and confuse me! Searching for Inchcock, to create ambiguities, abstrucities, perplexities, misfortunes and botherations, to scare… No, it’ll be down to Doreen’s Dementia! I can only put it down to the mysteries of Winwood Heights.
Luckily, I’d been taking many photographs, and even luckier, I managed after a frustrating battle with the computer’s SD card reader and got them loaded to use here. Although some of them I can’t remember taking.
That’s another thing, why am I not bothered about this! Surely I should be?
This is not, or is it, from Friday cause I seem to recall that the red van-man was parked back in his favourite illegal position on the chevrons? A good start, that is! Hey-Ho! I vaguely remember going onto the balcony to take this photograph, obviously using the Fuji camera, because of its shape, of the end car park… but no, on second thoughts, another cock-up I’ve made.
Not sure as to why I took this shot of the computer desk in the dark. I know I was having troubles uploading the photos, and the icons had all changed size of their own accord? Harrumphs!
Annoyingly and frustratingly, I’d mentioned much in the notes I found to trigger any memories. Tsk! Total blank, but I’m sure it was Helen! I think it was Carer Helen who called in the morning.
I think I got the icons back up, but not to what size they were; they are mentioned in the notes. As if the farce with trying to get the photos loaded from the card, and my giving up on the job. (I tried again in the morning and got the on! Yee-Haa! There was a lot of scribble concerning me making tea and dropping the mug, but catching it before it hit the floor and getting my fingers scolded a little. Hehe! I wondered why they hurt a smidgeon this morning; now I know.
I took a shot of the morning skyline, and, according to the notes, I thought it was beautiful despite the gag colouring?
The more exciting thing was as I was closing the window’s door, I inadvertently caught the button on the Fuji camera and took a shot through the bottom glass. Hahaha! It came out better than any photo taken.
A mention of kicking off early with the clattering and tap-tapping was read. How I could have heard it with the state of my era-holes is surprising. It must have been loud?
SYS 158, DIA 69, Pulse 95 and the body temperature was 34.5°c.
Made an order for J Sainsbury’s for next weekend. And ordered some t-shirts and something else… I’ll have a look to see what it was… Ah, pyjama bottoms.
Out of memory notes now. Good job too. I took some photos. I definitely can remember making up the Local News Snippets block; a scribble on the bottom of the one-sheet left indicated 8 hours, but carried onto the missing sheets; I think that is how long I was doing them!
I found another mystery photo I cannot recall taking, let alone why? However, the computer is not on. (See that? How quick I was to notice that? Hahaha!) It looks like it’s teatime ish, cause the lights going. It might have been when I gave up on blogging. Or not, maybe, perhaps, possibly…
I can recall a little later taking some pictures of the early sunsetting. Boy, did these take some sorting in the morning to get on here. However, just about worth the effort, although not brilliant at all. I think I took them over ten minutes while cooking the belated nosh.
Then eventually, I got the meal served up. It doesn’t look much appearance-wise, but I did enjoy this vegetarian effort for a change. Baked potatoes with butter, a leek onion and something else, I forget what it was now… ah, potato pie. Tomatoes and fresh garden peas. I can remember them cause I left them in the pan when I was about to start eating the meal. So went back and salvaged them. Put them on the plate and took this snap. Flavour Rating: 7.2/10, methinks.
As I went into the kitchenette to wash up, I was greeted by the now really beautiful sunsetting!
I hastened to get the Canon camera, and I returned to take these pictures of it.
Glad I caught this.
I washed the pots and stove and settled into the £300, second-hand, c1968, second-hand, c1968, Charity shop-bought, eyesorely-horrendously grungy coloured, haemorrhoid-testing, unfit-for-use, not working, recliner.
The Thought-Storm thundered into action as soon as I got my feet up. Yet whatever it was that was making so content and unannoyable today were still at it. And I just put the TV on to watch a murder documentary, and at first, no, the second set of averts… Zzz!
Ode To The Saturday Blues
Enough of this mad scriptitation…
Nobody reads it much in the entire nation…
It’s turning me to zombification…
Though, I feel it is my vocation…
My mind’s losing its location…
Sometimes, it’s a mental violation,
Turning my brains into vegetation!
I’m going bonkers… I need no verification…
My sanity needs another health evaluation,
Mayhaps, a cannabis vaccination?
Or, a trip to the seaside, on vacation?
I really need a cataracts diagnostician…
Psychiatrist, urologist and an acoustician,
I’m in desperate need of a mortician,
Or someone to explain; mankind’s declension? Oh! I need the Porcelain Thrones’ attention…
I woke with a double whammy of ailments; I think that’s what woke me up. Still, it made a nice change from being woken up by Arthur Itis, Cathy Cartilage, Anne Gyna or Duodenal Donald. And plus as well, they both claimed down within a few minutes! Oh, I forgot to tell what they were, Tsk!
I’d got the camera nearby, so I took a one-handed snap of it – Clever stuff! Well, alright, it wasn’t clever then! Hehehe! I’d got Colin Cramps distorting my right-hand something wicked.
Oh, Dearie me! The Blood Pressure was well up this morning. The body temperature was still low. SYS 169, Dia 73 and Pulse at 90. But was I bovvered? Nope! This feeling that lingering… it must be what it feels like when on dope? Har-Har!
I had three goes at stringing the ear-holes again today. But still used the olive oil in between. I fear it’s not helped an iota with the hearing, Tsk! Still, in the odd uncaring mood I’ve been in lately, it didn’t get to me?
He was on form today. Considering that there will have been many noises I didn’t hear, there were dozens of times I did hear him due to my wax build-up. He’s consistent; I’ll give him that. He’s also an
Carer Helen Did the morning call. Ah! I remember she’d brought the washed laundry back for me. I found it all screwed up again, crammed into the bag! I think I might as well ask cleaner Esther to do the washing; she folds the clothes for me, saves ironing, and uses the freshener and softener supplied. I’m not blaming Helen at all, whoever it was that took the washing out of the dryer, should be spoken to nicely, and asked if she could fold the clothes for me, in future, please. This still irritated me even in the odd uncaring mood I’ve been in lately.
I worked on this blog between wee-wees (Hahaha!) I checked on the Amazon tracker to see if the hats and jammie-bottoms would be coming tomorrow, as it said on the site when I ordered them.
Bobble hats coming tomorrow, T-Shirts on the 9th or 20th, and the much-needed jammie-bottoms on Monday (the 7th, I think). Still, in the odd uncaring mood I’ve been in lately, it didn’t irk me?
Got some photos to upload, but many of them were not recognised by the card reader? Still, in the odd uncaring mood I’ve been in lately, it didn’t irk me?
Off to the Porcelain Throne. The past three days of rock-hard torpedoes have changed overnight to rock-hard peanuts in a melange of running liquid and mucus based discharge. Unbelievable! And it still hurt to pass that? Still, in the odd uncaring mood I’ve been in lately, it didn’t bother me.
My tea-belly had returned! Got the ‘Snippets’ blog finished off and posted it. Then worked on this double-diary blog for many hours; I just pressed on with it, continuing to make errors, mistakes and forever making a brew of Glengettie, Thompsons Punjana and Sainsbury’s Extra-Strong tea in that order throughout the rest of the day.
As it got nearer to 18:00hrs, I kept the curtains open so that in case the sunset was pretty again, I would get some photographs of it, again. Which I did! Hehe! And boy, was it gorgeous tonight!
I took these pictures over about 15 minutes from the kitchenette window. Gorgeous!
I nipped into the wet room to get some more bleach for when I’d made a mess cooking the meal later…
Boy, did I clout Cathy Cartilages’ knee on the doorframe, coming out… Yes, I did! It hurt! A suitable synonym would be ‘ARGH! I thought I’d seek some sympathy from the ladies out there, so I took a photo of the offending knee cap, intending to inspire compassion from the ladies, but it came out wrong. I expected the picture to show how painful, swollen and bruised the knee looked… But, No! Despite the agony, I can’t see any damage to it at all? Another plan foiled… Haha! Still, in the odd uncaring mood I’ve been in lately, it didn’t agitate me?
I’d forgotten about the evening Carers’ visit. Whatta-plonka! Time to get the fodder sorted, I thought.
♫ The Oh, Susan ♫ tune chimed out, and in walked my evening Carer. It was Chloe. I knew what her name was, the very moment she answered me when I asked her what it was. Ahem! I meant to ask her if I could take her picture to use on the blog, but puddle-brain here forgot to! She was a pleasant gal, not pushy, and after sorting the medications out, she gave me a minute or two natterings. Treats were chosen, and off Chloe went, taking the waste bag with her to the chute; I thank you! A Sociable Carer like Chloe is always welcomed. Bless her.
Worked on the blog, then got the nosh sorted out. Cut up a selection of orange, yellow and black Natoora tomatoes and got some of the Squid (anchovy) vinegar on them; I wasn’t sparing!
End up with this meal served up. Potato cakes (Seasoned), fresh garden peas, tomatoes and a beef pastie. I got tucked into it but did not enjoy it as I should have. I may have been a little too tired?
Gone midnight again before I got my head down, and the jumping awakes were back with me. Grumph!
The extra handicap of the reaction to the Booster Jab; made my doing anything, taking an inordinately much longer time than usual. Thus, it was nearly midnight last night by the time I’d got the blog finished and posted. Although aching and in pain, and really needed to get some sleep. The mind and body wanted to close down. But, Inchcock, an epicurean, foodie, glutton, gourmet, chow-hounder, and well-known foodaholic, put an end to any thoughts of joining in with any Sweet Morpheusness for a while.
I foolishly started to make a belated meal, and a mini-feast it was too! At last, come around about 01:00hrs, I got it served up.
Raw fresh peas from Nigeria. (Shame the ones from Peru are not available, they were sweeter than the Nigerian ones by a mile, but beggars can’t be choosers when things are out of season) Oven-baked potato slices, tomatoes, crispy smoked bacon was the main course. The bacon was eaten in slices of milk roll bread and was dunked in some absolutely great tasting Thai sweet chilli sauce. I was satisfied with the substituted bottle; as for where I got it from, well, I’ll get some more from Amazon.
Which reminds me, I’ve got some diabetic bamboo socks delivered today. Well, that’s what I say! Bearing in mind my cock-up stroke Whoopsiedangleplop with Sainsbury’s and Morrison’s order dates, I get them arriving yesterday; when my Google calendar clear says that the Sainsbury one is coming Monday and the Morrison one on Tuesday… I’m sinking into the morass mess of mental mayhem of memory mishaps. It has to be admitted. Vascular Dementia Doreen is to blame, methinks.
Of course, you have to bear in mind that it is me we are talking about! No chance! Anyway, I feasted well, did some belching, took an extra Codeine, and flaked out on the recliner searching for sleep…
Sleep as I recall it, when I got up for my fifth wee-wee, at 03:00hrs, seemed far away, a luxury denied me again! Thought Storms Stewart kicked of the instant the eyelids drooped and threatened to nod off. It’s incredible how many things you can fear, hate, smile and laugh about, returning memories to torment you on your failed options and actions. Self-disgust, the injustices of those in charge, shames… not to mention the ailments having a go at you. I had no idea what time I got off into the land of nod, but I kept waking up thinking, I’d better get up, the carer will be here soon – then nodded off again.
The Doctor’s response to this problem when I spoke with her (a few years ago now, of course) Was, “Yes, many older people get this… any other problems?” I decided not to bother her further.
As I woke for the umpteenth time and was going through the routine of planning to get up, then falling asleep again, the door chime rang out its loud, ♫ Oh, Susanna ♫ tune. Gawd, it was late! Carer Richard came in to find a foggy-brained Inchcock staggering up out of the recliner. Hahaha! Fair enough, he does usually find me fuddle-brained anyway.
Richard asked the required medical question, as they do on a Monday. And did a wristlet alarm check to ensure the signal was getting through to the Nottingham City Homes people.
It was his last call, and I enjoyed a little nattering and moaning session with the lad. I thanked and treated him, and off he went.
Then as I put the kettle on belatedly, I took some shots of the morning’s misty views from the kitchenette window.
The photographs didn’t help my spirits much, Didn’t cheer me up; I still felt I was a bit of a schmuck, An old man, (Gillie) again being lovestruck… If she was to adopt me, I’d be thunderstruck!
I wonder when the socks will arrive, they’re made of bamboo, Had to get some; it’s too cold not to wear them now, Boo-Hoo! I’ll check the Amazon tracker; that’s what I’ll do… Nine stops away, couldn’t ask for better, could you! The socks seem to be of reasonable value… One can’t say that very often of Amazon, can you?
In an effort to cheer missen up, I perused the box of gifts that HRH Lisa and Billum had sent to me from Fort Thomas in the USA. I know, I wasn’t going to open it until Christmas Day, but anyway…
The box within the box was so pretty, it had to have been decided on by a lady. I put it on the server trolley and investigated away! But I’ll not put them on display until Christmas day.
Just look at all the work Lisa must have put into making these for me!
She even named them for me in the card she sent with them! ♥
Crazy Furry Goat (Goliath), Long Eared Rabbit (Roger), Wacky Cat Kawaii. Pink Fuzzy Monster (Malcolm), Rudikth, the Red-Nosed Reindeer! The names in brackets are those I’m considering giving them when they get on display and become along with Koala and Teddy Bear, my morning chinwagging partners! ♥
I’ll have to make sure I give them names that I might remember. Otherwise, they will get confused about who I am talking to if I use the wrong word. Hehehe! They put in some ‘Moon Pie’ cakes as well. They are not available in the UK. And they look rather tasty! I shall not indulge until Christmas day!
When I showed them off to the carer who came to check on my medicines stock, she thought they were just like a Wagon Wheel. When I put a picture of an unopened lemon Wagon Wheels on my blog a while back, Billum said how they looked like Moon Pies. Thus they sent them to me to try. Bless their cotton socks! ♥
♥ Thanks again, HRH Lisa and Billum! ♥
The door chime rang forth again;
♫ I come from Alabama with a banjo on my knee, I’m going to Louisiana, my true love for to see It rained all night the day I left; the weather it was dry The sun so hot I froze to death; Susanna, don’t you cry. Oh, Susanna, don’t you cry for me cos’ I come from Alabama With my banjo on my knee… ♫
The daycarer from the Meridian office was the day carer; she’s come to check that my medical stocks were sufficient for over the holidays. She thought the Moon Pies were like Wagon Wheels… Oh, I’ve already said this, I guess, sorry!
She thinks I’ll need some more Codeines getting in to last me. Which is not surprising, with all the extras I’ve been taking; What with the 15hr agony of the hospital trolley marathon, the bruised bum, then the absolute nightmare of the reaction to the booster-jab, I think I needed, they got me through anyway. I expect someone somewhere to believe I’ve become addicted, however, and another lecture from the Doctor, of course, over the phone.
Another Escapee Pea!
Making a fresh brew, I trod on something rock-hard on the kitchen floor, almost like an electric shock, it made, jump a smidge. It seems lately that these escapee garden peas are coming out of hiding regularly? Haha!
I checked again in the Mazon bamboo sock front situation. And guess what? As you see, this was the message I got from them. Delivered today; your package was left near the front door or porch. Well, it hadn’t been! I got myself into a mini-flap when I wondered if it had been delivered to Winchester Court in error?
So, I rang ILC (Independent Living Coordinator), Warden, Desktop Dancer, and who is also not interested in adopting me! Tsk! It’s just not fair! She said it might be downstairs in the lobby; I mentioned Winchester Court, she said the flat is empty. I had a vision of them leaving the stuff outside the door of an empty apartment – if so, it would not last long! Deana said she’d look for me and let me know. I thanked her and returned to the computer in another failed effort.
Hehe! Ferreting around for something to nibble, I came across the packet of new mini-cheddars I’d ordered, but I resisted the temptation. I’ll have them later when I’m more depressed or even hungrier.
The right arm looked betterish, and the pain has subsided a lot now.
Little Inchies fungal lesion had not bled all day. I liked that a lot! But I am in no way being fooled; it’ll come again!
The legs (the Knees) had improved beyond recognition this Monday. I had a job to recognise them as my own. Although, Arthur Itis was getting a little frisky with it when I was writing this.
Warden Deana Saves The Day
Deana rang the door chime and entered – with the parcels of socks in her hand, bless her! They had been left down in the front lobby by the Amazon delivery urchin. Along with several other packages for different people! I thanked her kindly.
Cleaning the teeth broke another tooth, The few teggies left are getting corrosive, But I wash brushing a little aggressive, Shaving, not a single cut or nick, Showered, I almost felt hygienic… On the radio, the London philharmonic, Stubbed my toe; that was chronic… But, I don’t want to nitpick, Even though I tripped over the walking stick!
Food Glorious Food
The dessert was a bit special. On the label, it read; Raspberry Gourmet Greek-style thick & creamy live yoghurt with fruit layer. Confusing innit? Tasted okay. Cooked seasoned sliced Polish pork knuckle with seasonings sarnies, Nigerian podded peas, and crispy chips (oven fries). Flavour rating; 8/10.
Late Phone Call
A call from the opticians came in. Which left me more confused than ever. According to the lady calling me, I did not have an appointment with them. But when I called in there last week on my way to the dentist, I called in to book an appointment, got home and put a date in the calendar, January 4th 2022. She said they had not made an appointment for me?
I’m getting mixed up here; back to the phone call: She asked if I could come in the morning (today at 09:00hrs for an eye test? Presumably, they had had a cancellation?).
Being the keen attentive, alert, sharp sort of person that I’m not, I made another Whoopsiedangleplop; I told her her ‘Yes’ I’d come. Then realised I had the Amazon order coming? Too late to get help ringing her back; the staff had all gone!
Evening Carer Valerie arrived, and I soon fell asleep after she’d gone.
Fed up! Woke up wide awake at midnight and got this blog finished and posted, a little late, but betterer late than never!
01:35hrs: Woke feeling like I had only had a half-an-hours sleep. Then I realised, that I had only had 30 minutes kip! But, that’s how it’s been lately.
As I was plugging away trying to free my ever-expandingly stomached body from the comfort of the second-hand, c1968, none-working, broken by xyrophobia-suffering crook and Brother-in-Law Pete, rickety recliner, the pleasing thought of purchasing the toilet rolls, and the wonderful help from the unknown angel in Sainsbury’s yesterday, came into mind. And joy and a warm, comforting feeling did overfloweth! I realise the dangers of my getting too confident, assured and/or contented, is always a signal for Whoppsiedangleplops, Accifauxpas, failings and disasters to pay me a visit. But I just couldn’t help but wallow in the sense of, someone cares and does something to help others! Heartwarming! But, dangerous for Inchcock, at the same time! I must not get carried away.
Even on the way to, and during the Porcelain Throne session, my appreciation of her help, and the satisfaction of knowing I have a full fridge and cupboard (not to mention the toilet rolls!), settled my usually apprehensive, nervous state on waking. Even the passing was a good one. Apart from a little too much bleeding, there was far less pain and effort required, and things were not in the least bit messy or over-pungent!
Little Inchies fungal lesion was not leaking! As I said earlier, I must not get carried away!
As for the pins, just look at them. They could be any ordinary pair of legs. The varicose and spider veins seem to have retreated, the Clopidogrel lumps and marks, and the blood papules have gone the same way. Amazing!
I can’t understand it this morning, and it concerns me, things are going so well, and I am singing to myself! I got the kettle on and got the medications ready. Opening the pill-blister, for the first time ever, all the tablets were in the right sections, and I didn’t drop a single one! (Am I really asleep and still dreaming?) Got the tablets and medicines taken, applied the creams and lotions, then cleaned the ears with the new tool and re-olive-oiled them, without my snapping the end off the tool, or spilling any oil! Made the brew and into the front room with it.
I got on with the updating of yesterday’s Inchcock Today. I was confused, as this took me no longer than three hours, and that’s with all the photographs to sort out! Mmm?
Then, as I was starting to do the Pinterest postings…
Ah, that’s more like my luck! But even this didn’t last long. I went on Facebooking to see if it was mended yet and would allow me to post photos to my albums… Great Balls of Fire! It did! Very slowly mind. So I spent ages on updating the albums but felt chuffed when I got them done.
I took a break, had a weak wee-wee, made some tea and had four-biscuits Before this new diet, it would have been a packet of bikkies! – I’m saying I wasn’t tempted, Hehe!) I had a read of the newsletter again, about us losing the L9 bus service, but nothing conf=rete came from it. They have twelve days to make their minds up what we are going to get, to replace the L9 bus.
Back to sorting the photographs out for storage. As I was doing this, I was genuinely surprised to hear some banging and drilling. I soon realised it was not what I thought, about 05:00hrs, but it was gone by eight o’clock! The workers were doing something in the lift lobby. But it didn’t last long, ten-minutes at most.
I went on the WordPress Reader. Then added some pictures on the TFZer Facebook page.
Off to make another brew, this time the Glengettie black. I checked on the toilet roll delivery-tracker from Amazon. 20th to 24th March.
14:00hrs: I made a start on Graphicalisationing for page tops.
Yet, with good luck (At first, I thought). I went to get meal sorted, and had a bit of a dizzy, grabbed at the counter and knocked the cleaner spray flying. I lunged to catch in, knocking a saucepan off of the stove – but the handle actually attached itself to the bottle sprayer gun, and saved it falling down between the stove and cupboard! More good fortune!
Then thought I heard a voice or music, and went to the front door, but no one was there? On the way back, I realised that it was the Alert Line controllers voice from the On-Call line. I must have caught the wrist alarm as I grabbed for the bottle. He was not too pleased, but he told me to take care. Ah, the luck starteth to turneth, I thought. (Boy was I unknowingly right too!)
I’d got the plate laid out, just awaiting the Haloumi sticks to finish cooking in the oven. And an urgent call to the Porcelain Throne arrived. What a shame, Little Inchy’s fungal lesion was pouring blood! And a right mess it made too! I carried out the painful evacuation, then did the even more hurtful medicationalisationing on Little Inchy. Got all cleaned up, and got back to the kitchen.
Crabstickleisations! The halloumi sticks were burnt to an unfit for human consumption pile of almost ash! Humph, what a Nebech! I dished them and the tray and started again using another pack of the sticks from the freezer.
Twenty minutes or so later, I was placing the Halloumi on the plate with the dried food that had been sat there so long! Gerrangulations! I swapped the lettuce and salad leaves with some in the fridge. Added the peas from the saucepan, and was pleased to be about to feast on the resurrected plateful of nosh, as my hunger and phagomania grew! The lips ere licked… then…
The Fire Alarm went off! I dare not settle, in case it was a real one. I got the step ladder and looked down out of the unwanted, unliked, photographer-hating, thick-framed, view-blocking kitchen window, to keep an eye out for the brigade and watch their responses. If they left early, within a few minutes, then I’d know it was a false alarm. Whilst waiting for their arrival, I got the camera to record things.
There were gone within five minutes. But that was long enough for the Halloumi stick to get soggy and cold on the plate! What was going to be a treat, a pleasant, epicurean delight of a meal, was turned into an unpleasant, picking out what food is warm enough and edible, task!
Well, the days ending with me getting back to my usual Whoopsiedangleplopitis returning.
But, to be fair, apart from the sticks tasting like tar, (Yes, I have eaten it! Dad used to call at roadworks and get a lump off of his mates, get his penknife out and cut a lump off of the block for me to chew on!) it wasn’t too bad really. The meal I mean!) But I’m sorry I even tried to eat the Halloumi, Eurgh! I still gave it a taste-rating of 6.5/10.
I got the pots washed, and as I did so, the dreaded wet warm sensation was coming from Little Inchies regions. At least with the fresh PPs on, it didn’t trickle down my leg. Off to the wet room for cleaning and medicalisationing, the Daktacort cream is nearly all used up now. Summat else to fret about! Mind you, I was still a tad lucky, cause I noticed it in plenty of time, thus saving my having to crack-open the dried blood, which usually starts it flowing again.
When I got back to finish the pots, I found I’d left the hot-water tap (Faucet) running! Being late on now, the water heating was turned on a bit ago, and will soon heat up again.
So, I left the pots and went to the computer, to make sure about the morning’s appointment at the Sherwood Health Clinic, it was for 08:30hrs. I just hope that the toilet rolls from Amazon do not come while I’m out. They gave me a six-day window for an ETA, starting tomorrow. If they left them outside the door, would they still be there when I got home? Of course, this means me staying in for a week! Humph at the thought!
Got down in the £300, second-hand, near-dilapidated, gungy-beige coloured, c1968, rarely working, uncomfortable, rickety, rinky-dinked, rattling, rusty, resurrected, reconditioned, recalcitrant, recidivating and rotting-away recliner. The one that bullying 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 and searched for my valuables, which he found and took, (I still haven’t got them all back yet, eight-months later). This is he, my chaetophorous, anti-epilation Brother-in-law, Pete!
As per, and as a usual, sleep did not come until it was almost time to get up again. Grangwangles!
23:25hrs: I bestirred reluctantly and was feeling terribly depressed, confused, and uncomfortably disorientated. The immediate problem was my uncertainty of whether or not I had really lost the blister-pack of medications. How had I got things so wrong as to run-out of beta-blockers, water-tablets, and Simvastatin amongst other important tablets? A lack of self-confidence and self-hatred came through to join the worries and fears for me to stew over. I actually felt sick, not physically, but inside. No help yet either, and this after two tablet-less days!
I’ll try Warden Deana again later, she did tell me to call around 09:00hrs, so she could ring the bank with me present. She said she’d phone the chemist for me later when the shop opened. But I have heard nothing. I believe she is having to work at another block of NCH flats as cover, so she’ll be up to her neck in it.
I need to know about the prescription and take action to get some more urgently. I’m so sorry it’s a dismal start to the diary, but I’m pretty depressed about how life is at the moment. I’ll try to lighten it up from here on, no promises, mind. Hehe!
The usual summoning to the Porcelain Throne arrived, which helped me snap out of the Self-Pity-Mode. Getting my ever-more-wobbly body from the £300, second-hand c1968 recliner was of little bother. Keeping my balance on the gentle trot to the Throne, was more difficult, thanks to Dizzy Dennis’s ministrations, which stayed for during this time. The evacuation was messy, but minimal bleeding anywhere. And it seemed to be a lot less in volume.
I cleaned up and then limped to the kitchen. Put the kettle on, and searched around again, hoping tp mysteriously find a blister pack of medications, but after half-an-hour, mostly searching in places that had already been perused, I’d had no luck. Depressionalisticalness moved to Defcon Three! I reheated the kettle and made a brew, and took some of the out-of-date tablets I’d found at the bottom of the drawer. I had Warfarin in stock, though, at least.
It was a sad figure that got to the computer to start the updating of the Sunday blog. There was a mixed bag of feelings clinging to me; fear, self-loathing, resentment, sadness, self-contempt, anxiety, confusion, and probably the strongest one, was of awkward helplessness. Depressionalisticalness moved to Defcon Two & three-quarters! Hehe!
I got the blog finished off and sent it to WordPress. During this time, I only needed three wee-wees. Smug-Mode nearly adopted, but I knew better! My EQ told me not to get too expectant of anything to go right – which really cheered me up. Tsk!
Off to make another brew, Glenghettie Gold this time. The innards rumbled threateningly while I was making the mug of Britain’s finest commonly available tea. On a par with black Glenghettie and Thompsons Punjana. All have different taste qualities. The Gold is strong and tasty with it. Straight black Glengettie, viciously strong, wonderful. The Thompsons Punjani just as tasty, but a tad less strong. Compared to the Twinings… What in heavens am I doing? Advertising teas! Shows the state of my warped, disintegrating mind, dunnit?
Within a few minutes of my being back at the computer, with but a few key-presses achieved…
Dangwangles, damn and blast the duplicitous, unreliable, crap, pathetic Liberty-Global and overpaid, bully, plutomaniac, greedy-con-man Fries!
So, I had to work on CorelDraw, until the internet connection returned. Had a wee-wee, all the few of then, this was only the forth, were of the BOTTTFA (Blasting-Out-Then-Trickling-For-Ages) mode! The GPWWB (Grey-Plastic-Wee-Wee-Bucket) was about a third-full already?
I sent some photos to Pinterest and went on the WordPress Reader. Then the TFZer Facebooking session. Then making yet another mug of tea (Today’s thirst for tea, is most voracious?), I took this snap of the moon and sky; it looks like it had been painted. The only clouds in view were a few lingering just above the planet.
I had some bikkies with the Thompsons tea. McVities orange chocolate digestives, well dunked. Haha! After they were enjoyed and imbibed, it was ablutionalisationing time.
And despite the rumbling innards, it was a most decent session. The dropsies were no more than four, no shaving cuts, toe-stubbings, or banging into or knocking anything over. Why even the sock-glide battle failed to produce any blood-blisters, bruises or blood! The EQ warned me not to get too excited, though? This brought the Panic-Depression-Defcon back to Three. Hehehe!
The noise from the ‘Hum’ seemed a little lower, I thought. Then as I got in the wet room, the racket from the Marlow Fire & Security Workmen kicked off. I reckon the yare getting closer than ever now, I could hear them while I was under the noisy shower without any hearing aids in!
The pins looked pretty good, got some colour back as well. Fair enough, they are a little fluid retaining at the moment.
But that is the fault of Carrington Pharmacy, 343-345 Mansfield Rd, Nottingham NG5 2DA. If anyone would care to visit them to tell them off for not delivering my prescription Medications and leaving me with a three-day period of not having tablets and medicines I need, for the ticker (Bisoprolol), depression (Esketamine) duodenal Donald, Arthur Itis (Codeine 30g – Phorpain Gel), etc.. Oh, and if you can give the uncaring swines a taste of your knuckles, I’d much appreciate it. Thanks!
I applied the last of the Phorpain Gel, Germaloid cream, Clobetasone cream, Corticosteroid cream, Daktacort lotion, and Clopidogrel ketoconazole. Olive-oiled the ear-holes, and had another wee-wee.
Deana was, as I expected, at another block of flats yesterday, so she could not let know. But the Chemist told her they have no one to deliver anything until Wednesday. But I can go and fetch the medications myself. That was nice of her! Wasn’t it? I decided to catch the bus down into Sherwood, try to talk to someone in the bank, then hobble into Carrington, make an appointment at the Doctors surgery, call in and moan to the crap Chemist, and pick up the prescription and visit the nearby Lidl store to get some bread. Then I got myself dressed up warmly and took the black bags to the waste chute on the way out. I’ll see ILC, Ballet-Dancer, Hauptsturmfuhreress Warden Deana, to see if she had found anything out from the Chemist or Bank from me.
Dropped off the bags and down on the elevator. This warning sign was in the wall of the lift, from the Marlowe gang and Nottingham City Homes.
It’s all go here!
I plodded through the link-corridor into Winwood Court and made my way to the ILC’s (Independent Living Coordinators) Interrogation and Body Search Office. All three gals were in there today.
I decided I had no choice if wanted the medications, but to catch the bus down into Sherwood, try to talk to someone in the bank, then hobble into Carrington, make an appointment at the Doctors surgery, call in and moan to the crap Chemist, and pick up the prescription and visit the nearby Lidl store to get some bread. This could be painful, uncomfortable, and I’ll likely get caught in the forecasted heavy rain and die of pneumonia! Humph! Still, that’ll please the Pharmacist, Doctor, and Chiropodist!
I said my farewells and made it to the bus stop. Betty was there, and we started to have a natter and nibble, during which a violent pain emanated from the lower abdomen, abdominal area. It was so bad, I immediately told Bet I wasn’t feeling well and returned back to the flat, ASAP. I feared perhaps a massive accident might take place from the rear-end quarters. But had to stop occasionally as the stabbing pains got worse. As I hurried and repeatedly stopped, back to the apartment, I wondered if the out of date medications the Carrington Pharmacy, 343-345 Mansfield Rd, Carrington, Nottingham NG5 2DA, had forced me to take by failing to deliver the new prescriptions, had caused something to go wrong? I got to the flat and left the three-wheeler outside and fumbled my way in and to the Porcelain Throne. But nothing happened, although the pain eased-off after five minutes or so? But the pain is still with me now, just not so bad.
Then, as I got up to wash and fetch the trolley inside, a sharp fracture-like pain came from the bottom of Arthur Itis’s patellar, and that is still giving me hell, on and off. I just can’t walk or even stand on it when it’s playing up. There’s no bruising, it doesn’t hurt when I apply pressure either. And the other mystery, the innards have now turned to a rumbling ache, well that’s the best I can explain it. The pain under the knee that comes and goes is the main worry now. But of course, tomorrow I have to stay in all day, just in case the Carrington Pharmacy, 343-345 Mansfield Rd, Carrington, Nottingham NG5 2DA decide to deliver me my medications? Pissed-off now to Defcon Two-level!
I started to update this blog, and Jenny rang me to tell me the window cleaner might call in the morning, bless her cotton socks. I’m afraid at the moment she rang, I was suffering, with the sharp knee-stabs, so I couldn’t really have the natter I would have liked to.
I purposely got myself up to have a hobble-about with the four-pronged stick, to see how the knee reacted, this time. It didn’t seem so bad, just the occasional stab on the way to make a brew. But coming back, it returned to a full-time problem? The innards low down were rumbling and stinging at the same time.
I suppose it’s a good job that I didn’t go out then.
I decided to do a Morrison order, just in case things go ape-shit with the intestines and knee. So I did! Hehe! Made it for Thursday 06:00 > 07:00hrs.
I wonder if I can sue the chemist? A touch of guilt over my attitude to the Chemist came over me. Come think about it, I am not aware of why things have gone ape-shit over the medications. There may have been an illness, accident, or death, anything that might have contributed to their failure to deliver? I’ll humbly take back the insults and sarcasm I’ve made – until I find out what the cause was. Shame deepens!
Got the nosh cooking, but not sure if its a good idea with the innards in this state. Oh, dearie me! Fish and potatoes, peas, and mushrooms were eaten slowly. The masticationalisationing was well-done.
When I took the pots to be washed, the knee was considerably less bothersome overall, but an occasional ‘Stop-you-in-your-tracks’ twinge was there. The stomach was continually churning gently, but no signs yet of any movement being needed. If it is brewing up, I hope it doesn’t suddenly catch me out! I’m sure there will soon be an evacuation required eventually, and I am nervous of what shape and form it will come in. Haha! Hopefully not a bloodied, ‘wait-an-hour’ for the action to start, then regret that it did mode! But, all the signs are indicating it will be.
Too unwell to even think about doing the handwashing. The mess is building up in the kitchen, but the means of sorting it are not available to me at the moment. Did the washing of the pots and pans etc. then got a bottle of orange juice and settled in the recliner to watch some TV. Hoping the pains and pangs will be less bothersome. And they did ease off after I got viewing!
But I soon found I was drifting-off and waking repeatedly. Each time, wondering where I was and what time it was when I awoke! Tsk! By the time my brain had got around to trying to sort out anything, I’d nod-off again, usually waking up again within a few minutes and going through the ‘Who am I, what day is it’ routine.
I must have stayed asleep for a while, enough to have a dream anyway, and it seemed so real, too. (How long does it take to have a dream?) I woke up and was in the bedroom of 6, Brookfield Place, (c1955), and a child again. But I woke up in the cream, knowing it was not real and aware of all the disasters I had to face all over again. The unheated bedroom had ice and frost on it, and the soot-covered railway viaduct wall was visible… I floated out through the wall and flew around the back yard, the bathtub hanging on the wall, Dad’s home-made cobbling bench, the row of outside toilets and coal-houses, Christine Wright, and her mam and dad, with Rover, their dog, in deckchairs sunbathing in the snow?
Unhappily, I woke at this stage and somehow managed to scribble some notes on the pad about this dream… while the intestine pains increased, and reality returned. Sadly!
The kip and wake continued, but I could not get back to the dream.
I gave up trying to sleep and gingerly rose out of the recliner.
23:00hrs: I woke, with a frustrationalisticness, due to my not being able to recall the dream I’d been having, but had the idea that I wanted to, so I could mention it on this blog. Ah, well, no idea what it was about!
I lay for a short while, considering my few remaining options in life. My bucket list, and needs, hopes and inspirations. Plans for the future. Desires and needs! This took me about two minutes!
I began to reluctantly wrench out my dilapidated, somewhat flabby-bellied body from the £300 second-hand, c1968 recliner. Arthur Itis immediately complained in his usual fashion and stung me with some pain-giving twinges. I got up into a semi-perpendicular stance, grabbed the stick, and hobbled into the kitchen to put the kettle on.
As soon as I pressed the power button, the need for the Porcelain Throne arrived, urgently! Again, it was a close call getting there in time, and what a session this was! Bloody, messy and most uncomfortable.For a description of the evacuated dollop, think a torpedo-shaped long bale of hay! Cricky, I’m glad now that I didn’t eat much of last night’s meal! I might still be sat on the Throne now if I had! Certain areas needed sanitising and medicating, with TLC! Had a wash and back to make the brew.
With the struggle in passing, I mixed a sachet of the Macrogol first.
Then made the brew and took the medications.
To the computer, and started things off with the updating of Saturday post.
As I began typing, a few things became apparent to me. Saccades Sandra was going to give me some hassle. Duodenal Donald was stabbing at me. And I had some new growths to join the old one, on the right hand! They came out almost orange in the photograph? Not a lot surprised me nowadays with the ever-changing ailments. But this did.
The updating took less time than usual, as I had condensed things, in an effort to spend less time on the computer, and get some cleaning up done and much needed rest. I got it finished and posted off. Then went to make another mug of tea. As well as the photo above, I took a couple of pictures of the view from the unwanted, light & view-blocking new windows.
The first one through the opened window, the second from inside. As the rain was soaking me through with the window open.
Back to the computer and…
The wee-wees had been persistent all morning, so I went for yet another. Most of them were in the LBRWS (Long-But-Reluctant-Weak-Sprinkly) mode.
While waiting for Liberty-Global Virgin Media to return on-line, I went to tidy up the kitchen (Gawd, it needed it!) and make yet another drink.
I went to get out next weeks medicine tray and realised that there wasn’t one, I’d just used up my entire supply? I rather hope the new ones will be delivered today!
Life is something that tests one’s patience, especially people like medical patients! Haha!
Back to the computer, and Liberty-Global internet was back on, but fluctuating between slow and dead-slow, now!
I went on the WordPress Reader. Then posted some Pinterest photographs. And yet another urgent calling to the Porcelain Throne arrived. This time it was an even-closer shave to making it to the seat in time! I took a very poor, although I didn’t realise it at the time, snap of the knees. With Arthur Itis giving me such bother, I expected they would be all bloated and warped, but no, they seemed okay to me? Hey-ho!
I made a start on this blog for a while (with many wee-wee and Saccades Sandra delays). Then decided to try to write an ode I’d been thinking of while doing this blog, but had forgotten what it was about! Humph!
I was suddenly hungering and hankering for something to eat for brekkers. I made a mug of Thompsons best tea and had a packet of salt & vinegar Chipsticks, the last jam tart and a bar of orange club biscuit! Followed with a few cashew nuts. But not a lot!
Then decided to get the ablutions done, as it was gone the witching-hour of 08:00hrs. I had a change of plans (I’m well-known for this, you know, Hehe!) and decided to take the black bags to the chute. Then down with the recyclable carrier and carrier of glass for the small bin. I chanced to take them down, using just the walking stick.
And I was doing well until I got into the three flats hallway and a visit from Dizzy Dennis was suffered. I didn’t go down or anything dangerous, but I did drop the bag of empty glass jars and bottles! None broke either, but the noise they made, has most likely made me as popular with the other tenants, as Nigel Farage would be at the Liberal Party Conference! Humph!
I pointlessly whispered an “I’m sorry!” And carried on into the lift and down and outside with the bags. It dawned on me; I had not taken the two black bags to the chute! It was raining and windy out there, so I got the job done as quickly as I could to avoid getting soaked and returned to Woodthorpe Court with the rubbish-bags. Remembering this time, to deposit the black bags in the waste chute, and avoid clouting my head on the lid this time. Which I did! Smug-Mode Adopted!
– Back to the flat, and tackled the ablutionalisational duties. A few dropsies and it went pretty well for me until it came to the dreaded Sock-Glide Battle. Two trapped fingers, on for each sock, both forced me into a quietly uttered few words of an intemperate nature. I also noted while in the shower, (apart from not, I say Not, dropping the soap or showerhead), that the tiles on the wall were getting a tad grimy looking.
The pins had changed a little. The ankle swelling had gone down a lot.
Signs of Venous Insufficiency, and spider, femoral veins were slowly coming back a little more prominently.
Thankfully, Arthur Itis was seemingly easing off somewhat too.
So I got out the Mildew and Mould sprays and created a cunning plan! Oh, yes! I would sit on the shower stool and reach down to the lower tiles, and stand on it, to reach the higher ones. Good eh? The very moment I hit the floor after falling out of the chair, I knew this was not going to work after all! I struggled back on my feet and applied some Phorpain Gel on the elbow and shin. Buenos Dias! Int’ life a gas? Hehehe! I withdrew from the Mildew-removal activities area, and guess what?
Porcelain Throne duties No.3 were needed! A good job I was so close to the WC bowl, as things moved along fast and almost caught me out again, a sort of self-starting and finish when the innards felt they were ready to, session! However, a third-variety of evacuation followed. No bleeding from anywhere, very little pain, the enormity of the released product seemed less this time. It’s a busy day for a Sunday!
The rain seemed to have stopped, but the sun was in and out a bit regular, so I left the lights on. I nipped out quickly (quickly, hahaha!), to go on the rooftop of Winwood Court, to try and catch some photographs while the sun was shining.
Huh! another change of plans. I just remembered that I have no tablets left! So I rang the Pharmacy, without realising it was ‘Sunday’, what an idiot! I’ve got enough Warfarin and Simvastatin for today, but desperately short of Codeine. So, somehow tomorrow, I’ve got to call the chemist and find out what’s happening, and also see the Bank Manager. Hang on, there’s Mo’s funeral to go to on Monday! I’m getting all confused, sad, and going on a downer now!
Still, Josie’s nosh to be prepared yet. How can one go from so high to so low in an instant? I’d better make a start. I noticed while getting Josie’s nosh prepared, that the odd orangey-red marks on the right hand had disappeared or dissipated altogether? But the two older scars were still there? I baked on smoked haddock-cheese and potato rissole a little longer today. Put some of the Tuna with mayonnaise and sweetcorn on for another trial for her. Sliced tomato, mushrooms and garden peas. A can of Gin & Tonic, and a limoncello dessert top round it off. Makes it a bit of a change for her to try. I hope she likes the new stuff. I delivered it spot on the usual time, as anyone who is a personal chef should do. Hehe!
I got back inside, and Shaking Shaun had a go at me. Left me in a bit of a dodgy condition as I plated my own nosh, Dizzy Dennis joined in the ‘Let’s-get-at-Inchcock’ session.
To be frank, memories after this part of the day, do not exist. But I woke later in the evening, panicking.
Went to get the ablutions done. What farcicalness! I took the PPs off ready, and blood was all over them from the crotch area.
I assumed it would be Little Inchies fungal lesion bleeding, but no! I could find no leaks anywhere, apart from a tiny bit in the delicate area at the top inside of the right leg front. That, and the continuing flow of deep red blood that followed, confused me? (Not a hard thing to do!) The batteries ran out in the toothbrush, I replaced them and still had to use the hand-brush, because the new Duracells would not work? Got three cuts while shaking and shaving, Seccades Sandra kicked off. The radio batteries ran out. As for the dropsies, well, there must be something I handled that didn’t drop or shoot out of my right hand, but I can’t think of anything at the moment! Grumph! The sock-glide, at least, didn’t cause me any injuries today. The pins looked okay, other than the ankles were swelling up a touch.
I got the black bins sorted and ready to take to the waste chute.
Then went down to take some treats to Winwood Court kitchen for the tenants. No one there, so I left them near the door.
I’d forgot to take a pen to add my name to the list of people interested in going to Mo’s funeral. Back to Woodthorpe Court. By then, (08:05hrs) it was late enough for me to use waste the chute, so I did.
Cracked my head on the lid. I may have muttered something like, ‘flipping ‘eck!’, or ‘Botherations!’
Back down again with the pen, and added my moniker to the list. Gaynor had told me about this yesterday. Bless her cotton socks.
Back up to the flat and did some tidying up in the supposed bedroom, but is in fact, a junk room that would put Steptoe & Son’s front office to shame!
The intercom burst into life. I went to the hallway and admitted the lad with food. He put it inside the door for me, I thanked him, and off he shot. Looking little stressed, I thought.
I got the fodder out of the bags and checked to see what had been substituted. To my pleasant surprise. No, amazement, there were no substituting at all!
But, as usual, there was a problem with the delivery. Three things actually.
I didn’t realise it was frozen
The outer sleeve had been damaged
And it was a ‘Microwave Ony’ meal.
Not having a microwave oven, put the mockers on my plan to eat the Smoked Haddock Risotto today (Binned it!) Why bin it, you ask? When I decided to try and cook it in the oven and opened the cover, there was a smell like rotten eggs when I pulled off the wrapper! Eugh!
I updated this blog while some Truffle Fries and the last of Southern Fries were cooking and then got the meal served up. Somewhat overdid the quantity by a long shot! and I enjoyed it so much. You can see the different chips by their colour, the greeny ones are the Truffle fries. I ate only about a half of this much-to-big meal I’d done. I don’t know what made me cook so much?
What I ate tasted okay though, Flavour-Rating 6.5/10.
I did the washing of the pots, and I don’t know why, but my mind concentrated on the Mainline Bus that I caught coming back from HRH Sister Jane’s abode. I thought, maybe I could use it going the other way if I go again. I dug out the timetable I’d taken from the bus. When I say, dug-out, I mean ‘spent fifteen minutes finding it. Haha!
But the print was far too small to read, so the idea drifted from my muddled brain, to be replaced with thoughts of Mo’s funeral on Monday. She would not have liked us to mope, and I hope to avoid showing any other emotion, other than the one she brought to us all: Joy and her infectious smile.
The indefatigable, full of vim and vigour, ball of fun, much-missed, Mo! ♥
22:30hrs: I woke up, already concentrating on what will most likely, be my longest-ever updating session. Yesterday’s events will take a lot of sorting out. I took a few photographs and xyrophobia-suffering, flat-burglar, brother-in-Law Pete, with his Galaxy S10+Fold, which increases the storage to 1TB. That operates as a normal smartphone until you open it, at which point it becomes a small tablet. A snip at £1514.4921, took the other photo’s at his mansion and sent them to me via email, to use.
With my concentration so bad at the moment, all I need is any of the following to kick-off: Saccades Sandra, Dizzy Dennis, Shaking Shaun or Neuropathic Nigel’s neurotransmitter failure to start, and it may never get finished. My Koyaanisqatsi, lack of proper education and knaifatic upbringing is handicap enough on there own, without the unwanted or asked for ailments helping. Humph!
I made a start on the updating as soon as I’d had made a tasty cuppa of Glennghettie tea, wash and took the medications.
I took a very shaky photo through the kitchen door facing the unwanted, new, light and view-blocking window cannot get to clean, windows. The shakes and twitching nerve transmissions are now really getting to me, as they have made my holding the camera steady enough to t a take any worthy, semi-clear shots are so annoying.
In between having many mugs of tea, consultations with the notes I made, and Dizzy Dennis visits, it took me until gone 09:00hrs to get the post finished and posted off! Yes, a total of over ten hours! Such is my ridiculous circumspection and lack of control of mind and body! I fear I might have to finish doing the Inchcock Today’s, and I love doing them to try and cheer folks up.
I am in a right pickle now. Drained and shaky. But something has to be done, or help found. I might just do the odd ode now and then, instead. Saccades Sandra didn’t help things today, she had me with double-vision. Causing me to do more correctionalisationing that typing! I am sad, undecided person. Unwashed and feeling despondent and so tired-out. Depressed beyond my own belief!
Gawd, reading this makes me feel a right sad moaning Git! However, I tried to pull around and pressed on sending some pictures to Pinterest. Went on the WordPress Reader. Then spent far too long on my beloved TFZer Facebooking. Topped up some photo albums. My typing got even worse now!
I got some mushrooms and peas ready to warm up. I put the oven heating up too.
As I did so, the door-chimes rang out. It was the second long-sleeved brown t-shirt delivery. That the Tracker said would arrive between the 11th and 14th of the month. Somehow, I’m not surprised.
A good job I hadn’t what I had initially planned to, and gone to see the Bank Manager today. Not that I would have had the time.
Around 1400hrs, I gave up altogether, and closed it all down, and went to get something to eat, before I fell asleep. Saccades, getting worse.
Got the nosh sorted. The place looked like a battleground by the time I’d got it served up. Dropped saucepan, spilt over bowel, scattered garden peas, blood from cutting the finger, crumbs… Humph!
Got down and ate the meal.. rating 7/10.
Washed the pots and did the handwashing.
Settled in the recliner and had a mind stew. I have to stop doing these dairy type things, they are just too much for me in my state.
Feeling low, unwell, undecided and decidedly down in the dumps.
23:25hrs: I woke up, with only one thing on my mind… I must get to the GPWWB (Grey-Plastic-Wee-Wee-Bucket) as soon as possible! I became aware of some otalgia, as I gently rose and limped to the bucket. And as I was using it, the damned ‘Hum’ became a lot more noticeable. I had plenty of time to listen to it, mind. For the wee-wee was of the ELDWIEE (Extra-Long-Dribbling-Will-It-Ever-End) variety. It took so long, I nearly fell asleep again, stood-up weeing! Sheesh!
I then made sure the voucher and things that I could manage to get in the three-wheeler guide, were all present. Ready for my almost feard trip out, vicambulation around town, and second bus trip on to Sister Jane’s, HRH’s Mansion-Hall in West Bridgford.
Then off to the kitchen, where the ‘Hum’ was distinctly louder. I took the medications and made a brew. Then snapped this shot from the light & view-blocking, finger trapping new window. No moon was showing this morning, and worryingly it was drizzling and windy out there today. Mmm!
I then pressed on with updating the Wednesday diary. Eventually getting it finished and going for a new brew, and yet another wee-wee They’ve been persistent this morning) Which makes me even less confident of getting myself to Jane’s without something going wrong, or it is too much for me. The EQ was trying to tell me something.
I got the kettle on and made up a nibble tub for later in the weekend, and then made a mug of Glenghettie tea in one of the two larger China mugs.
As I moved the mug top the tray, there was tea coming out of the mug? Also, I spotted some near where I’d poured the boiling water in? I remembered dropping this mug yesterday and feeling a little smug about it not breaking. Moments later, I could see the tea coming out of the spider-crack on the side! Ah, well! I got the other mug and transferred the tea.
Back to the computer and put a few photographs on Pinterest, then onto the TFZer Facebooking. Finally, on WordPress, then to the Porcelain Throne.
Painful, think of large meatballs. Lots of bleeding. Say no more!
Turned everything off, and went to get the Unfortunately, a Stand-Up – too early to use the shower) ablutions tended to.
The session was one of more interesting (I could have used a more accurate word, but wanted to avoid using bad language. Tsk) nature. Mainly due to the dropsies, during the toe-stubbing, shaving cuts and potentially lethal Sock-Glide battle.
The dropsies included: The sink plug (now with the chain broken). The toothpaste and brush (3), mouthwash bottle, shaving foam can, razors (4), the body spray and flannel and towel (5). Followed by the Daktacort and Corticosteroid cream tubes and the PP’s.
The sock-glide altercation was the most disturbing. I knocked it off of the seat, and it landed on the freshly stubbed on the metal support bar toe! Which left me in pain for the rest of the day.
Looking on the bright-side, after getting the socks on, the legs seemed staggeringly reasonable! Despite Arthur Itis’s bad mood with me. After getting dressed and smelling all pongy with the ‘Millionaire’, Au de Toilette spray applied, I rushed and got the handwashing done, wrung and hung.
Checked the trolley bag and it was well filled with pressies and nibbles for the Royal Family (Jane and Pete) for delivery. I checked the flat, boy did I! I had a moment of… what’s the word, I know there is one, erm… Ah, gorrit. OCD, Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder, and must have double even treble-checked some things like taps, along with the windows, lights, cooker, etc. along with others for safety, and not being left or off wrongly. So-much-so that I really had to rush about afterwards, to get to the bus stop in time. Arthur Itis was getting worse as the day went on, and the feet joined in, both with rhadamanthine severity.
I met Cyndy in the lift, she was going down early to do some laundering (Of clothes, not money, Hehe!) and we had a lovely little natter.
As I got out from the Woodthorpe Court foyer onto an unwelcome looking, dark, dank, wet, windy Chestnut Walk, I thought I’d take a couple of shots of the view towards Winchester Court flats in the murk.
As I had a look at the photographs on the viewer, I saw that it a low-battery-sign showing! Somehow, I had put the wrong battery on charge last night! I felt a right clot! Then I realised the time! And had to almost rush to get to the bus shelter!
I was sliding all over with the trolley-walker as I went down the hill to the stop, and Arthur Itis was most displeased with me rushing, and Shaking Shaun was not too pleased either. I’m such a shmegegge, schlub and Shlimazel! But it was a good job I had got a move on because the 40 bus arrived in about a minute (07:25hrs) of me getting there. Phew!
I got on the bus, paid my £2.30 fare, and settled in a side-saddle seat, that was not designed for anyone to stay seated on! But that was not the worst thing about his journey. For I knew from experience, I was going to suffer getting bashed about and trod-on by the passengers as the bus filled to over-capacity.
And this is what happened! I had the trolley squashed right in between my legs, trod on, knocked about, elbowed, glared at, shoved and kicked, by the incoming army of grumpy passengers. The usual selection of them, even the ones who were standing and jostling with other mad tempered turds, had their mobiles in use. A bloke who sat in a seat next to me and was leaning against me with his excessive midriff, I could see was playing Bingo on his phone? I was so pleased when we arrived at Upper Parliament Street at last. I got off last, as is usual for me, to avoid being trampled on in the mad rush of cheerless Nottinghamians to get off!
I called in my beloved Poundland shop and ended up buying: For Jane & Pete treats to go with what was already in the trolley for them, Glue clamps, Toffiffees, Cutting blades, Mediterranian salad, Pork Farms pie, and nuts. Along with for myself, More Dettol, Germolene, toothpaste (Well, its something for the dropsies to enjoy), shaving cream, and a Toffiffee.
I got to the self-serve tills, and the lady put the things through for me, bless her. I was soon out and back on Upper Parliament Street. I tried the camera, and it took this picture first press of the button! It looks like what it was, dark, damp and depressing. Haha!
I made my way to and down Clumber Street and arrived at the EE shop. But it was not open yet. So I hobbled, balancing the bag on the trolley with aplomb and style, I walked back up to the Victoria Centre (Mall), deciding to go to Tesco, to get some more treats for the Royal Family. And perhaps see if I can get a cheap camera that runs off of standard batteries. I made my way through the centre to Tesco and bought them some seaweed, puff pastry fingers and got myself some liquid soapflakes. Paid the lady, resorted the bags on the trolley, and walked back toward the top entrance.
Seeing an EE shop that was just opening up. So I went in to be treated like an idiot, sneered at and made most unwelcome. Four young members of staff were stood chatting and laughing with each other as I hobbled in. Obviously, I must have had an air of “You’ll not get any money from me” written all over my aged face? Because three of them all walked to the other end of the shop on my entering? The older one, presumably the manager, waited until I got to him, and finished whatever he was doing on his computer, then turned his head in my direction, and with an upward nod, said “Yea? Can I do owt for yer?” I explained about my problem with my sim-only contract phone battery dying, as to be expected after so many years, and needing a new easier to use, simpler phone to use. I was told they do not make phones any simpler than the one I had.
I edified him, about my physical problems and the buttons on the old phone I’d transferred the sim card into my 20-year old phone, were very small, hard to see and use. With an audible even to me, ‘Huh’! He went to fetch some phones that he said they noo longer stock for me to look at. While showing me them, he tried to interest me in going on the EE Internet. He explained that the one handset was no better than the one I was using and had the same size buttons, the other was a lot more expensive. I declined them both, saying I’ll manage with this one, thank you.
He was going into Defcon-three-mode. I bravely ask him if he could tell me what my current contract charges for actual calls. He got the details up on the computer. Mentioning to me as he did so, with great indifference, well he muttered it really: “I can change it to a no-limit calls contract, for the same cost… if you want me to?” “Great!” I said, showing my approval of his suggestion, as he went into Defcon-Two-Status. He did the job, and as he was computerisationing, I tried the phone, I wanted to ring Jane, but there were no numbers no the Contacts? They had not been transferred with the card. So, even after all the hassle, I could not ring her. His expert opinion when I mentioned this, of “Yer!” went unnoticed at the time, I was more worried about him falling to sleep! During the to-and-froing, I ask a whippersnapper assistant, is there any contracts that do not charge for the internet, that my mobile does not have? “Nae, it the thing nowadays, progress innit, ah fings are going!
I was not sorry at leaving the store and took a headache and modicum of frustration with me. By the time I reached the Jessop store, I’d received, well the phone had, eleven emails from EE. I’ll still not got around to reading them yet. I went into the department store, and was a little nervous, shoving the trolley-guide between all the expensive displays as I made my way to the lifts, and up to the third floor, to see if they had any of the old phones or cameras with ordinary batteries on sale.
No luck, but the gentleman assistant or manager was polite to me, explaining they are no longer made. But recommended I try the London Exchange Store in Hockley. I thanked him and departed back down and out into the central mall.
Next port of call was Thornton’s shop, in search of the chocolate wine bottles, to get one for HRH Sister Jane. But, they only had a few to choose from this year. I opted for a Chocolate two-seater sports car, thinking it might bring back memories of Pete’s TR7 he had. The girl wrote the names and Happy Birthday on it, in white icing. I also bought them a name tag, but I can’t for the life of me, remember why now? Paid the lady, and went back out onto Parliament Street.
I walked painfully now, to the bus stop for the West Bridgford 5 or 7 route. The number seven was due in two minutes; Good bit of luck here, I thought. The bus pulled up behind one at the station, the first one pulled off, and as a lady and I approached the doors of the 5 bus, the driver deliberately looked away, closed the doors and pulled off! I got so angry, and swore at the top of my voice as it drove off into the distance! A naughty ‘B’ word; and that is so out of character for me. No problem getting the next bus, but this did not go anywhere near HRH Jane’s road, and meant my poor old feet and knees would have a long trudge when I got off of the bus to reach it! Fuming I was! The crush on the 40 bus, and now this! Humph! Crabs and Grobblenerds!
The walk from Central Avenue, where I’d alighted from the bus, was taken nice and gently. Not that Arthur Itis or Foot-ache Francis appreciated it. Part-way there, and Saccades Sandra joined in the hassling. And, I was still peeved about the treatment from the buses, and EE shop. Tsk! Yet, the rain had stopped, and the wind died down a lot. By the time I arrived at the Mansion, I had lost my tempestuousness.
The HRH’s gave me a warm welcome. Which at the time, I ungraciously did not acknowledge, but I was by then in great pain with the knees and feet in particular. As I got the carrier out with their pressies in, I asked Pete not to allow me to go home without my carrier of food. Slight lack of confidence there!)
But they soon cheered me up. They had graciously put a rag over a wooden chair for me to sit on. But, with travelling back on two more buses to come yet, Arthur Itis and Haemorrhoid Harold would not appreciate me sitting down to stiffen up the knees, and compress Harold’s piles, then getting up again and going through the same on each bus!
The Highnesses seemed happy enough to allow my standing up during the visit. Well, it saved any germs or dirt getting on the chair from my trousers!
They had just finished a gigantic jigsaw puzzle! A right whopper it was! I took this picture of it, but the camera battery died again.
Pete took the other photographs below, on his Galaxy mobile. I believe it is a Galaxy S10+Fold which has increased storage to 1TB. That operates as a normal smartphone until you open it, at which point it becomes a small tablet. A snip at £1514.50, they both have one. But, you can’t blame them, what with them having the lottery win, pools win, and being left a fortune by Pete’s unknown relative, they might as well live it up. No wonder Pete retired at 49. No jealousy from me, though. Oh, no! Hehe!
Jane gave me a pain killer. Pete’s Galaxy takes brilliant photos. Which he kindly sent to me through Email so I could use them. He said he’ll let me know the cost later.
As you can see by the photos of the chocolate car, the lettering didn’t last long. Pete mentioned later, “Women Drivers, huh!” From the evidence and Petes email, I’ve analysed a few possible reasons for this:
Her or His Highness, couldn’t resist the vanilla flavoured writing?
Her or His Highness, were discussing money and one threw the car at the other?
Her or His Highness rubbed out the others name, as they were discussing Brexit, Fox hunting or Overseas Investment Opportunities?
Her or His Highness thought it was shaving foam?
Her or His Highness had lost a piece of the jigsaw?
Hehehehe! I’m losing it here!
I was soon offered a cup of tea, which I had to decline, (Which seemed to cheer them up?) with the wee-wee situation being as delicate as it is. Much chinwagging was enjoyed, and I got all excited, and contentment nearly came over me! Sadly, I had to leave earlier than I would have liked (Which also seemed to bring a smile to their faces?).
In all earnestness, I felt sad at having to go. They told me of the bus times and which one to catch to town and walked me to the door.
I walked along the road, wobbling a bit with the trolley-walker now it was so much lighter now, crossed over the road and it dawned… I had left my bag of fooder behind after all! On my travel back to the palace, the mobile rang, it was Jane telling me I’d not taken the bag! Hehehe! They brought out the well-rooted-through carrier to me as I approached the main driveway. Smiling broadly, as I said; Pete, I’m sorry I bothered asking you to remind me about taking the bag. A laugh all round, and that parting giggling left me feeling in better spirits, even with the daunting task of using two buses was ahead of me. No wonder the walker-guide was lighter! Haha!
As I was about twenty yards from getting to the bus stop, the number 5 shot by! Yet another bus-related faux pas! I still had to travel on two more yet! My EQ warned me it was not over, however. Accepting the validity of EQ’s, made me calmer in a way, for so it will, and I knew there was nothing I could to change things. So it was just a matter of acquiescently pressing on. A MAinline bus arrived, which I knew would get me Friar Lane, but would it be in time now I’d missed the number five bus, for me to catch the L9 in town? Whatever, I was in a decent mood, because there was nothing I could to change fate, and realised it.
The side-saddle seat on this bus, unfortunately, had as big-a-danger of my falling out of, as the 40 bus earlier did! By the time I’d battles gravity and the Stirling Moss driver to keep seated, Arthur Itis was really annoyed. Getting up and off the bus was a real agonising struggle, which annoyed the passengers waiting to get on. Oh, dearie me!
Then I had the task of getting to Queen Street in time, left me about eight minutes before the L9 was due to leave. Six months ago, this would have been, easy-peasy, but not today. Every step was hurtful, as I tried to get up enough speed to get there. Every uneven paving stone seemed to trap or tip the front wheel of the walker-guide. I was struggling for breath and in discomfort, as I limped up Queen Street as fast as I could to the bus stop at the top. It was three minutes past the hour as I drew level with the door of the bus, due out at five-past – and believe it or not, this driver closed the door and pulled away! I could have cried. There I was, breathing in gasps, feet hurting, Arthur Itis in top giving Inchcock pain-issuing form, yet with a twinge of contentment lingering within? I’m probably going bonkers here!
Now, the 40 bus was 25 minutes to wait for. I hobbled down Queen Street to the slab square. I took a snap of the Council House, showing the clock above Little John’s bell. Amazed that the battery let me make the picture, and it came out decent? I’m confused about this, I hope the camera is not going wrong.
I got back up and caught the 40 bus. These side-saddle seats had a bar to hang onto, and it was much needed and used too! Not too many people on the bus this time, and it was easier for me to cling to the seat, even with Nigel Mansell driving and heavy on the brakes. I got off on Winchester Street, a kind chap monitored me getting off, in case any help was needed.
The walk up to the flats had never been more uncomfortable. Just the feet and Arthur Itis’s knees were bothering me but on a grand scale! Hehe! The mysteries of the camera! The dead battery, according to the message on the screen, it still let me take two more photographs on Chestnut Walk? The colouring was nothing like what it was to the naked eye, though.
I got in and walked through to the Woodthorpe Courts flats, and up to the apartment, without seeing a soul.
First thing, I got the camera on charging. Then back to the door to pick up the Anticoagulation, Haemostasis Deep-Vein Arterial Thrombosis Clinic’s INR and dosage letter. The INR level is nearly spot on this time, the dosages the same, two-every day, so that should easy to remember. My next blood-letting session will be on Tuesday 21st, giving me a week longer. I even felt the pain from the feet and knees when I was stood still reading the details. So, I took the medications next with an extra Codeine 30g. Then got the Truffle fries in the oven cooking.
I suddenly felt a little out of sync. The walking and getting battered about by bus passengers and let down by bus drivers I should think. But concentration was hard to come by.
I got the very-old camera out and fitted two new batteries. It took the shot of the meal when I’d got it done, but only after changing the batteries after each failed attempt, and there many of them. I got Change the batteries, or This card is incorrect’ messages each time I tried to use it, so gave up.
The meal was enjoyable, despite my feeling so weary and confused. The ready-made BLT sarnies, some sliced tomato ones I made up, and the Truffle chips. A yoghourt for afters.
I painfully rose and put the pots in the washing up bowl, and sat down in the recliner.