– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – My being a long-time self-medicator,
A sprayer, a creamer & ointmentater,
I’ve got tips for others to endure…
Some use bicarb & talcum powder,
Aftershave is an excellent blood-stopper,
Some tips for the use of a catheter,
You’ll have troubles… oh, yer!
The urine in your external nocturnal pouch… Will make your Carer say, ‘Ouch!’.
When the colour is browner & redder, You can waste your time telling a nurse or Doctor, Who’ll always say you must drink more water!
Don’t bother telling them you feel a bit peakier,
Or that you are drinking gallons of spring water,
They’ll just think, the old git Inchy has dementia,
Don’t say you’re running a temperature,
They think you can’t read the thermometer…
With your cataract and glaucoma,
If you mention your seizure disorder,
You’re told, ‘Well, you’re getting older!’
I seeked help from the local Wicca Paganer,
She had no idea, but she was a fantastic pleasure,
Tube-out & in repeatedly pleased this pensioner,
Then the medics found I had parasitemia,
I broke the release valve on the catheter… Started leaking more oftener, Needing cleaning and a carpet washer, My confidence began to falter, But nothing did alter… I’ve still got the same bloody catheter! Pains, leaks by the plethora… But I don’t complain… but I am a fibber!
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – I couldn’t file any photos yesterday, yet this one of the sun dipping Monday night did. Amazing! – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – -. Inchy Ode – Mark Two
I was partly inspired when the old me returned after enjoying a few hours of freedom from a life that, as I grew older, more disabled, and feeble, I was not really enjoying anymore. It did feel as if I was drugged, it’s true, but did I care? No! It was great! It flowed out so smoothly, not very well, but smoothly. Those few hours were free of hassle, although nothing had changed other than My appreciation and reaction to things? Maybe Seizure Sandra did have a go at me? This experience ended about three hours ago, and after reading my notes to do the ode, the old doubts came on again, tormenting me. Did I? Would I? Why? How? Not possible, surely? Etc…
Anyway, here it is, unedited, mistakes and all.
Today, I admit and say… Was neither this or that way, I sensed little at all today… My mind seemed so far away, Seizure Sandra seemed to go astray,
Most difficulties seemed to go mentally,
I was out of it almost permanently,
Yet, it didn’t seem to bother me…
For most of the day, I responded salaciously,
I believe I showed signs of almost sagacity?
At one time, I thought someone had drugged me!
I’ve never had a day go so worry-free!
I couldn’t have given a toss, actually…
I seemed to be living somewhat sacrosanctly,
This afternoon, around a quarter to three,
I reclaimed my veracity suddenly…
Worries, fears, & frustrations returned instantly,
I went from the rare uncaring back into misery,
Gloomy, dubiously, with my mental tortuosity,
Is this how it is for the drunk and druggie?
If someone did Mickey Fin me, ostensibly?
I hope they do it again cause it did seem to me… Admittedly, it only lasted temporarily… For a few hours, it was a different Inchy, Self-hatred gone, I felt a smidge of pomposity!
Or did I dream it all? No, no, no, I didn’t!
Mostly guesses with the photos today. Last night’s sunset.
Different shades of the urine bag.
Waste bag; I have no idea why.
There must have been a reason for it?
Horrible tasteless rolls
I remember this: the laundry returned damp, and some of it was still wet! Hung them on the airer.
Evening mug of Glengettie.
Sunset. The computer let me save them!
Found some notes that I wrote last night. Can’t read a word of the scribble. – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – TTFNsk
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – ODE FROM INCHY AWAITING THE RETURN OF LOGICALITY Which I think will not return to me, Another loss, just like my sanity, Hoping for improvement shows my inanity, I prayed pleadingly to the almighty, I don’t think he heard Inchy, not with certainty, Then I tried Lucifer to free me from demonry, But I guess these pleas were more delusionary, They were for sure rather confusionary… Sometimes I feel near-contented, jaunty…
Usually, when Odeing, that to me is not petty,
For some reason, it is a lifegiving essentiality,
Even when the brain mangles my memory,
My computer bars graphics, & photography,
I hate violence, war and the Oligarchy,
I left the hot tap running; I did it twice today!
Suffer many bothersome mini-seizures daily,
With manifestations through my theopathy,
As one ages, words gain a new certainty…
I appreciate words, but not as easily…
Like, anonymity…obscurity, & uncertainty,
Invisibility, inscrutability, & anonymity,
Making decisions is complex, fuzzy, hazy,
Actioning finally taken often shows ethereality,
Making corrections, ridden with inner disunity,
Confusingly, words show a level of banality,
I have to treat specific memories sceptically…
Well, indeed, every memory or action doubtingly,
Look at the world, Putin, Starmer, Trumpery!
Complaining? Me? I’ve not got the temerity,
Although life can sometimes feel so tawdry,
It can be scaring, worrying, and depressingly, Yet, at this moment, there’s a sign of glee… I’ve beef in black bean sauce & a mug of tea! – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – Reluctantly, I stirred at 02:50hrs. Fell asleep at 0255hrs. Unintentionally, I stirred at 03:10hrs.
Fell asleep at 03:15hrs. Jumped awake at 03:30hrs. Lat pondering on a dream I’d just had that was not clear enough to recall in detail, but Grizelda was in there somewhere; the pain from the so rare involuntary movement in Little Inchies locality assured me that Grizelda was the topic of the dream. I think it was a pleasant one. Fell asleep at 0420hrs. Tried to find Grizelda in the ether again. No luck, of course.
I woke with a jump at 04:40hrs.
Fell asleep at 05:45hrs… I woke again around 06:00hrs and realised I needed to complete the ablutions before a carer arrived. I carefully dismounted the bed. Little Inchy’s temporary expansion had disappeared, leaving a small amount of blood coming from the catheter tube inserted.
Not for the fainthearted! I stripped off and put the nightwear in the laundry bag. Got a fresh catheter pouch holder, the slippers, and fresh Protection Pants, etc, ready for after the shower & shave, and medicationing duties were finalised. Took them with me into the wet room. The first thing was to get my bottom down on the WC. The evacuation was a tacky-sticky, messy one. I did the few teeth I have left, causing, I’m afraid, to kick off. Then, possibly the most farcical event of the day. Having a shave. An everyday event, but not for Inchy. A first-ever here! While shaving, I’m sure I went into a few seizures of over 20 minutes or so. As I had supposedly finished shaving and rinsing off the foam and blood, it dawned on me that I had shaved only half of the face and neck! It’s like I go on auto-pilot… but as with the computer, where I get the majority of the seizures. I keep doing things while ‘under the grip of (sometimes), and I come to semi-awareness to find I’ve made a mess of everything I’ve done. But this is the first time it has happened in the wet room. I assume, anyway. So I had to reshave again. Bringing up the total number of cuts and knicks to a count of five. : The usual routine was carried out, but the Catheter netting bag was not attached; too much genuflecting is not suitable for and upsets Dizzy Dennis, Arthur Itis, Cartilage Chloe & Carol, Bad-Balance-Barbara, and can trigger Tumble-over- or Trip-over-Trevor. , and . then rubbed in the Barrier Cream on Inchy’s-Bouncy-Belly, underneath the arms, on the forehead, lower arms and on the edges, and , and checked to make sure there were no more outbreaks of .
Then, I got the eyes and ears medicated. Next, I tackled the typically most painful medical sequences required daily. Little Inchies fungal cream applying!
This was the last job, as usual, in the wet room. Luckily, the pain does not bother me in the slightest bit. I just laugh it off and usually start singing a song or yodelling. Today, it was Frankie Vaughan’s Don’t Stop, Twist’… Argh!
was playing up again. Later, when I got on the computer, I gave the sparse teggies and gums a blast of £599.00 per 100 ml Toothache pain relief spray. Some effervescent paracetamols were added to the Bladder-demanding spring water bottles. I almost forgot to empty the nocturnal pouch. I then realised and stopped myself in time, as the Carer will need to confirm the colour with the NHS colour record chart/card. Carer Chloe arrived later and said it was a match with a classification of a seventh level. Ah, well!
SANDRA’s MINI-SEIZURES SHOWTIME STARTS! As Carer Richard arrived, so did Sandra. I have no idea if he noticed my condition, and my recollections remain confusing. That’s how bad Sandra’s first attack was. This time, it was not so mini-either. Richard was here for a while, making his last night shift call. Thankfully, the blurriness and confusion had cleared by the time he left. But she gave me many more mini-blanks over the next four or five hours. My beloved DVT Anticoagulation Warfarin nurse, Hristina, arrived. And she could tell the difference in my responses… even if I couldn’t. My memories are still a little vague, but I’m sure she mentioned me talking to the Doctor about the seizures. Hristina is a lovely gal♥
My other friend, Jenny, called me. After she’d read about the Milk Roll loaf not being delivered, she arrived at the flat with a loaf of bread from her freezer for me. Another Gem! ♥
I struggled with the computer (I still am now, Tuesday p.m.), but despite getting further behind, I am determined to get the photos on the blog. It’s hard work! Aha, got some from, not many, from earlier in the day. Unfortunately, only these two above.
SANDRA’s MINI-SEIZURES SHOWTIME RESTARTS! Little & often. I did give up then. I sat down and tried to get some sleep, catching up. Huh!
The Carer called; I was half asleep after waking up, yet somehow knew I was coming out of another seizure. Carer Promise took the washing down for me.
Afternoon delights in the sky
Bootiful!
Plenty of vehicles in today.
The last shot was as the sun was on its way down. Well, it wasn’t the last, but it was the last one the computer would let me save to file today.
From within the depths of a shallow hope,
Dreams may start to evoke…
Your old desires, you will possibly revoke,
Be you young, old, female or menfolk,
Chances are you’ll need a urineascope,
You can avoid them using the cystoscope,
Maybe a heart op, or colonoscope,
Or the uncomfortable gastroscope,
A bronchoscope that goes down your throat,
Perhaps (I’ve had lots of these) a cystoscope,
An oesophagoscope (I’ve only had one) no more, I hope,
Many surgical wotsits names end with scope…
Laparoscope, various forms of endoscope,
Urethroscope, proctoscope, that’s also a rectoscope,
The first cancer detector was a spinthariscope,
Which at the time helped me cope.
Labours Nye Bevan, my hero, had appeal & allure,
He saved many lives; he created the NHS for sure…
In 1948, began the NHS adventure,
Few medicals were then available for the poor,
Then, to the NHS, they did pour,
I became an ardent admirer,
Look at it now, and we’ve got Starmer…
Stealing from each pensioner and farmer,
He’s a bribes & backhanders palmer!
What made the liar want to join Labour?
Let alone become the opposition leader,
Did he come as a Labour saboteur? Now he’s P.M., the nasty, cruel bleeder!
The politician I most hate and abhor,
Labour’s Red Rose may be due to alter…
Keir may replace it with a bloodied sabre,
He’s not going to be the UK’s saviour, It’s personal wealth that he does savour, I don’t mean him harm, but I’m not a well-wisher, I’ll wish him Godspeed to his undertaker!
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – Photo filing problems again.
Mini-seizures were rife throughout the day.
Dark Dank Depressions.
Immediate Dizzy Dennis Spells.
Concentration collapsed.
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
Whoops! Wee-wee a bit red again.
I’m not sure what I did wrong taking this Kodak 2 photograph of the Renaurd-ridden toes and feet. They didn’t look anything like the hue the picture came out as. The bruising was where the cans of veg I dropped landed.
Made a mug of strong Glengettie tea. Slurp!
They were with me for about three hours on the trot.
I couldn’t find any work I had done while they were on, which is unusual. Usually, I’d find work done on the computer or in the kitchen that I could not remember doing. With the blog, this means I have to spend ages correcting things, but not today, as I have not done anything.
I soon found out I was wrong again! It cost me time and money and embarrassment, which I didn’t realise until near teatime. When the front porch intercom sounded. I went to see who it was, expecting someone had rung the wrong flat number… or a resident had forgotten to take the key to get back in with them. But no, nothing so simple.
At the door on the screen, was a gentleman delivering me a Morrison’s food order?
So, I had been doing something while in the seizures. And what a mess I made of that, too!
I checked later on and sent the order off during the 3 hours of Sandra’s attendance.
The chap arrived, and I put the food away, but why I’d ordered some things and not others will remain a muddled mystery.
Why the hell I ordered roasting potatoes and frozen red onions, I do not know. I have nothing to cook potatoes on or in. I can now recall buying a bag of these months ago, and they were tasteless and had to be thrown away. Three bags of cheesy bread rolls were ordered, but no sliced Milk Roll bread was ordered. Oh, dearie me!
I ordered canned coffee, which was for the nurses and carers. I also ordered some more soft drinks, but no spring water, which I take to fill the bladder. Cream cakes? Why? Who for on a Sunday? Also, some fresh chopped white onions had been ordered? More tomatoes, two packs of different ones!
Not the faintest memory of making the order in the first place, when I made it, or why I made it!
I soon decided to see if any Caregivers wanted the cream cakes in the morning. I dropped one box of the cakes, and they squashed and sprayed cream through the breath holes in the carton!
It took me ages to clean up the mess.
Now, depression and frustration have begun.
I’m glad I ordered these cheeses, though. Mature Blue Stilton cheese and extreme vintage cheese spread. Not knowing this order was coming, I’d defrosted some ready-sliced brown bread rolls for today’s meal.
,
I used the last of the extra-strong cheddar slices on these rolls. Had I been in the habit of eating newspapers, this is just how I expected them to taste – tasteless!
After eating or nibbling a few bits of the horrendous-tasting rolls and weak cheese with some tomatoes, I put the just-delivered cheesy-topped rolls in the freezer for later.
Then I discovered they were not cheesy-topped at all, just plain wholemeal. Presumably, they had been substituted for the cheesy rolls that I wanted. Spit!
More of the day lost than recalled. Sorry. – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – TTFNski!
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – The memories recalled, but only just, I think it may have been 1972, in August… I met and was mauled by an anaesthesiologist, Stabbed by an acupuncturist. This year, I was robbed by an oligarchist, Who goes by the name of Starmer! Known as the proletariat’s financial amputator, His first job as PM put pensioners asunder, Raised taxes for every farmer, Who accepted far too many a backhander… He is still the Labour leader, Money from anywhere he can acquire, To his many wrongs, he’s not a conceder, Because he is such an arrogant bleeder… A perfect match to be a Tory Prime Minister, He’s although blunt, he’s a clever circumventor… Lies directly, by omission, a fibbing blatherer, I bet he’s never been a TV renter, Cause self-wealth is at his centre… Working persons new tax inventor, Bet he gets a free haircut from his barber! His taxes put an end to improving agriculture, He’s just like a greedy vulture! His ruthlessness gives me acroparesthesia, It’s like he got into power with tabula nasa, Apart from filling his bank account whenever, To morals & sympathy, he is a denyer, I wonder if his stockings are 15 denier? I doubt his calculations, cogitation, & dedication… I wonder at times if he is just an apparition… Sent by Putin, to do our economy in? Or maybe a Right-Wing Martian? He’s certainly caused political confusion, Are, to Keir, old labour values an illusion? Voters want action with anti-depression, Not an HMG leader like an automaton! It could all end with a revolution! Maybe it can be stopped by a coalition, But he doesn’t need my permission… But he can have my commiseration, HMG UK is leading to deterioration, Sooner the better, for the voting disillusioned That Starmer is toppled & decommissioned!
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
Ah, a bit better colour!
Terrible photo!
Waste bags condensed.
Evening mug of Glengettie tea.
Blue evening views
Four big cob sarnies. But they were too big for me to manage. Waste not, want not; I bagged them, put them in the fridge, and ate them on Saturday. They were pork loin with robust cheddar cheese, no-butter butter, sliced tomatoes, and chestnuts. No finger cuts were sustained.
Got more photos saved to go on tonight! Smug-Mode-Adopted!
Note the deliberate spelling mistake? Ahem!
Gawd, I hate Starmer!
I don’t think I’m on my own.
A large rise in cases percentage-wise!
I did a bit of research later for the odd below above!
All was normal here.
Slightly darker this morning.
My morning shots are getting atrocious!
Yesterday, I, Sherlock Holmesianly, searched for the signs of which houses are growing Cannabis in their lofts. Today, it became apparent. Hehehe!
I’m unsure how I did it, but I got the battery-powered can opener to work!
Snowgoinger! Haha!
No TV. No landline phone. No Panic Alarm Working. NO INTERNET! For 5+ hours. Still, as long as the owners of Virgin, Liberty-Global, keep paying their CEO a phenomenal salary. Indeed, they will remain the supreme, cunning, lying Oligarchs they are. Trying to cancel their service, with their clause making us pay £100s to do so, requires someone with the following skills and can afford a barrister, a mathematician, & Einsteinian genius. If one does escape their financial and incapable service, one may try EE, 3, Vodafone, BT, UPC Broadband, 02, ITV plc, or Sirius—all of which Liberty-Global either owns or has investments in! We can’t win!. But Liberty-Global Always Do! (Spit!)
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – I’d like to relate a little anecdotage, I’m losing my grip on life in my dotage! My financial situation can be called in arrearage,
The medics can’t mend my wee wee appendage!
I have no willpower, respect or appanage, So, I consulted a Sherwood archaeologist… He dismissed me as being human sullage, He checked on my lineage, Suggested I go live in a hermitage, Although a wizard, he was more like a hucksterage, My nerve rash started getting blotchier, He said: I know what’s up with yer…, Like many old farts, you’re angry at Starmer! Yer blood’s boiling at Keir and your bank manager, There’s no one at home to give you a blether, And look at the state of the bloody weather! I can see yer at the end of your tether… Yer cookers’ broke, standing in yer corridor… Can’t cook or pissed, you’ve lost your composure, Problems with your heating & the computer, Cancer, Renauds, toothache & painful catheter, Starmer, Rachel Reeves, the HMG chancellor, Yer feelin’ sorry for yersen, yer silly old dodderer! Doreen Dementia depresses yer, The solution is available for you, For £500, I’ll reveal what it is, too! Go home and think it over, and come back Tuesday at two. So I went back all punctual, expecting a natter and brew… They told me he’d died last night on the loo! More dreams like this, & I don’t know what I’ll do! – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – -.
I was up at 04:00hrs to give myself plenty of time to shower, shave, and complete another visit to the Porcelain Throne in time for food delivery from Ocado. A Trotsky Terence controlled evacuation, and all over within 20 seconds of getting my tight little bottie settled on the plastic WC seat. Splush… all done! This ablution session took me over two hours, which was nothing unusual. I was all done abluting and started to get the medicationalisationings done. Unfortunately, after yesterday and the five nurses’ attempts to get the tube back in the bladder via poor little Inchie, He was very delicate this morning. So, ointmentating the fungal lesion was even more painful than ever. It brought tears to my eyes! But I got that done, and then I Phorpain gelled the cartilages of Chloe and Carole. Then, I did Arthur Itis’s left and right patellas with the same gel. Olive oiled the ears, put the Blepha gel in the left eye, and Chloramphenicol drops into the right eye. (Well, most of it ended up down my chest and on the floor!)
I got some Germolid ointment on my bottie to help soothe Harold’s Haemorrhoids. Always a pleasure doing that. Then, the Acne & Excema medications are under and on the arms, the flabby drooping belly, the head, and the neck. Yes, it’s spreading again! Next, congestion relief was sprayed onto the nasal area, and the Anti-Bleed swabbed when that cleared. The Nozohaem was kept handy, but it was not required. Then, a miracle occurred! I could not understand why it was so easy this morning, but I still felt smug when I put on the fresh Protection Pants, pulled them up, and adjusted them without catching the catheter netting or anything—in less time than it took me to take the old ones off! Brilliant! I still can’t believe it myself! Did I dream it or have a mini-seizure?
I cleaned up the wet room, took the waste bag and the used catheter bag to make up a larger one, and saw it was only 06:10 hrs! I’d done all that in just over two hours. But, being me, doubts lingered that I may have got the starting time or waking up time wrong. This took the edge off of my temporary period of almost glee and pride.
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – COMPUTER NOT UP TO SCRATCH TODAY I took this snap just before going to the wet room. You can’t see the snow in this one, but it’s stubbornly time-melting.
Very sad about all the photos I took, I can tell you! Heartbreaking.
I’ve lost the compunction… is that the right word? I’ll look it up… No that’s the wrong word altogether. I’ve lost interest in even trying to get this blog done. It’s already gone 20:00hrs, and I’m only up to here with it. I keep trying to get the photos on, but it takes so long using the Ccleaner that my pride and heart are not in it. For the first time ever as well. Still, it’s been a busy day again, interruptions, mistakes and the damned mini-seizures. I had a lot of them today, two when one carer was here and another with a different carer. I’m fuddled.
There was a mammoth cock-up again with the food orders. I would have sworn that I made one order for today and another with a different shop for next Wednesday. First, the Ocado delivery arrived. Then, this evening, the Tesco order arrived! No photos can be saved again, yet it let me do these above, then died on me again.
The computer let me upload these tonight, and later it saved them. Huh!
I think technology, ill health, mental & physical are getting too much for me.
Half of what took place needn’t have bothered me. I know that I had a carer doing the financial checks today, but who it was and two mini-seizures during the visit have left me well-baffled.
I’ve just run my neighbour and Angel of Mercy Jenny. I ordered cream cakes next Wednesday, and I now have two boxes. Her hubby, my mate Frank, kindly came up to collect them, along with a few bits that I would never eat, and they were short-dated. So, at least they have not been wasted and got to where they were intended for. I’d be lost without Jenny & Frank.
Sorry, but I’ve had enough today.
I’ll see how things go in the morning.
Fingers crossed.
I’ll make something to eat. I might even photograph it… but will the computer allow me to file it, or even load them?
Feeling dejected, that was the word!
Hope to see you in the morning.
Well, it’s evening now on Thursday.
But I did get some photos saved.
The 2nd delivery
I am a fool!
Tomatoes, potatoes, chestnuts, and chestnuts, with two really-filled ham rolls, with no-butter butter, & a dab of Marmite.
The potatoes were not very good.
Evening all! The snow melting. – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – TTFN & Have a great day!
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – Some words meanings I cannot muster, Who invented the blockbuster? A film, a book, why the buster? Why a block? But it doesn’t matter… Words that are far less a mind-bender, Suited to describe a megalosaur… It ideally matches the skills of Starmer… Those words are a bullying-bullshitter, He probably suffers from micropsia, His decisions are self-centred & macabre, His cabinet is something of a bricoleur,
He appears to be something of a bereaver,
They consider him their saviour, malefactor,
He’s like Thatcher, a determined tax-raiser,
He lies, by omission, the little meshuggener,
Taking freebies and many a backhander,
History will recall him as the Pensioner-Mugger,
A closet Brexiter,
A lousy, inhumane budgeter,
Being ballsier, but also barmier,
Contributors made his wealth grow bigger,
He knows he’s hated but doesn’t bother, He hates plebeians; he’s a political blagger, Rumour has it he wears a brassiere, I see or hear him, and life gets mangier, Life’s prospects get lower, mankier, Starmer, the pensioner’s mortifier! – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – 03:00hrs: I girded my loins as I woke up, stretched my rippling muscles, and started yodelling as I began my morning press-ups and squats and did fifteen minutes of shadow boxing. Alright, if yer want the truth, then… 06:15hrs: I stirred reluctantly to allow a mega-bast of wind to escape from my rear end. I removed the far-to-red coloured nocturnal pouch from the day catheter and mused briefly about yesterday’s various mistakes, cock-ups and all three of them, to me, disasters.
I grabbed , and went the kitchen to get the kettle on to satisfy my urge for a mug of Glengettie tea. Then, I spotted the hard-to-miss snow covering the view from the window. After a while, I returned to the front bedroom and found the Kodak Camera. Back to the kitchenette and took these photographicalisations. Each car park area is on Citrus Way in front of the apartment building. I rushed as it was darned cold out there.
When I got to the kitchen, I decided it was in a very untidy mess and needed tending to. I started by sorting out the waste bin bags into one and placing it near the front door to the rubbish chute later on.
I got distracted by the innards’ alert messages, which suggested that I should get to the Porcelain Throne as soon as possible—which I did! Only just in time, mind you; it was another close call. But they are much better than being embarrassed by any premature escapages. I’ve had a few of them lately! Humph! Today, not the usual one visit, but four! All in the same mode… Splurty!
Finally, I made a brew of Glengettie. I then proceeded to the computer to start blogging… dropping the mug of Glengettie en route! MISTAKE AFTER MISTAKE! You would not believe the things that needed doing, which I’ve been doing every day for the last three years on the blog, and they were tackled during Mind-Blanks and several Mini-Seizures. What a pickle I got myself into.
Carer Chloe, I think, arrived a little later. The diabetic socks were not put on cause I thought I’d have to get the blog caught up and would not be able to take them off to get a shower. Naturally, this did not work out; with all the time needed to correct and amend things, I’d cocked up.
Carer Sam arrived as I’d just taken some more snow photos.
No snow was falling now. The blue hue from the sky seemed to light all below.
Sam was going to put the socks on for me, but I thanked her and declined. I’ll have to have a shave and shower tonight or in the morning if I get up early enough and can make the time. I need two hours minimum, and the Ocado order is supposed to arrive between 06:00 and 07:00 hrs. It’s best to do it later tonight. If that is, I don’t leave the hot water tap running. Tsk!
The mini-seizures increased as the afternoon went on. At least I didn’t have much time to cock-up again. But I had to keep checking after each session.
THE SNOW BEGINS TO GO
The brown and red trees seem to be ridding themselves of the snow quicker than the other ones? I think it may be because they had thinner branches, and any wind may knock off the snow? No idea what I’m on about, really.
Nothing new there!
Another summoning to the Porcelain Throne, Trotsky Terence, was still in control.
I’m struggling with getting the photos saved to file again. I’m going to give up and get summat to eat. I doubt if I bother taking a snap of the meal; it will make it onto here. I took this snap from the kitchenette window before prepping the daily nosh. I’m missing my stove and oven already. No chips, no lamburgers… I’ve given them away so someone else can try and enjoy them. Last week, when the oven gave up the ghost, I tried cooking them in the air fryer, but they didn’t come out well.
Well, the food photo was saved right in the morning. And the two shots I took of the evening skies went on! I made three cheesy cobs, no-butter buttered them. I added a splodge of Marmite on each roll, then German Bavarian smoked ham slices. I also added sweet pickled baby beetroots and halved mini Dutch tomatoes, slightly salted.
I settled into the £300 second-hand shop-bought, c1966, moth-eaten, bedraggled, grotty, cringingly beige-coloured, much-dilapidated, crumb-containing from my nocturnal nibblings, bug-ridden, itch-inspiring, not-working recliner to watch an episode of my favourite, ‘Heartbeat’, on the TV and eat the meal.
Washing the pots later, I took another picture of the night sky.
I was pleased with how this one came out. I did a bit of apophenialising with this shot. The seemingly baby ghost clouds escaping the clutches of the dying sunset glow on the horizon. Hehehe!
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – WHAT A START! MIND YOU THE MIDDLE & END WERE NOWT TO SHOUT ABOUT I stirred around 05:30hrs, after another disturbing jumping and shooting awake imitation night’s sleep in bed. The nocturnal catheter pouch was the brownest it’s been for a while. Carer Richard confirmed it as seven on the NHS colour-rating scale card. I was not in good nick this morning, but nothing seemed worse than any other ailment.
I started updating Sunday’s post. As I was about to post it, I got emails and messages from the bank about the payment for my new Tesco account order not being paid. I thought I’d coped well with setting up an account with them. Over the next few hours, I received more emails and messages from Tesco and the bank. Obviously, I had done something wrong somewhere. I struggled to get the bank to pay for my Tesco order. A carer tried, the first nurse tried, and then I rang Deana for help. I had eight different passwords come in, and none worked. Five emails from Tesco and three more from the bank. But I could not work out what I’d done wrong, although it was apparent that I’d done something wrong. Another nurse worked it out for me – I’d put the wrong telephone number as I registered with Tesco. I’d put the landline instead of mobile – what a clot and farce that was. Then, I rang Deana to say it was sorted; I’m so glad the nurses came today.
However, I still did not grasp what I had done wrong in the process for a while.
THE NURSE’S VISITS: A nurse called on me (Thank heavens) this morning to replace my Catheter. But she could not get it to go back in. After a phone call for assistance, another nurse arrived to help. An hour later, it was still not back in. They called for an ambulance but were told no non-emergency ambulances were available. So they departed, saying, just like Arnie said in the film, did, “I’ll be back!”
Three nurses arrived later! They got the Catheter painfully for me and sorted it around 20 minutes later. They were in a rush; they had a lot more Catheter-ridden old farts to visit. I said I was sorry to bother them, gave them some nibbles and drinkies of their choice, and was told to ring if there were any problems later. (None yet) I think this is why I did not post the blog properly. Jenny sent me an email as I checked those from Tesco and the bank and posted off Saturday’s blog. Then sent a message to Jenny; “I hope it’s gone through now, Jenny. ♥” Explaining the day I’d had as an excuse for the cock-ups that I’d made already. Hehehe!
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First photographs.
Second photographs.
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – THE BEDThe torture bed, where things got badder… Four tries to get the tube back into the bladder, It felt like I was being mauled by a barracuda, Blood came from the fungal lesion’s ulcer, I sang to make the pain easier… Gene Pitney’s 24-hours from Tulsa, I thought one nurse was the Grim Reaper, undercover, My howling was like a documentary voiceover, My voice recording could be used in Dracula! Each nurse got annoyed at each failure… One suggested taking my temperature, Their kind efforts did not waiver, In the NHS, I became a believer,
Each nurse was a wallflower with power,
As they worked out how to grab my waggler,
Which was getting smaller and wrinklier,
On the 6th attempt, I sensed they were getting tireder,
My bladder was getting fuller & fuller,
On the 7th, they epitomised womanpower,
Their attitude to me was pure exemplar,
These Angels were so patient and avuncular,
As soon as they’d won, I had gastrectasia…
Telling me to stay in bed for a while, to recover,
The tube reconnected in my tallywhacker…
I was already feeling so much better,
I told each one I loved her!
Nibbles & a drinkies of their choice, I did offer,
I thanked them all for being so spectacular! ♥ – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – All in, up and running again! – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – Tonight’s ready-made meal. I plan to have some tomatoes and beef sarnies with it.
Back in the morning… I hope! – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – Good Morning! Carer Promise arrived on his last call and took photos of the snow falling from the balcony. Then the lad attached the night pouch to the Catheter, which leaked all over the floor! So I was freezing from him letting the cold into the room, wet, and I had the job of cleaning up the leaked urine, wee’d on legs and slipper! And all I wanted to do was to get some sleep!
Still, it gave him a laugh. Hehe!
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – TTFN each, Joy & Happiness to you All!
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – So. I’ve got recurrent aphthous stomatitis, Glaucoma Gladys; Eyesight out of focus, The return of pain from Toothache Tiffany, Peripheral Pete is acting somewhat oddly, Up in the sky is a whopping cumulonimbus! Years ago, I was libidinous and lascivious, Now, I move ornamentally, & act sentimentally, I often act like a schoolteacher sumpsimus. I don’t mean to act so obnoxious, My toes and feet turned white & xanthous, Many things make me worried and anxious, How can mortals beat off the oligarchy? They rule, from wars, they make more money! Proletariats, innocents survive quixotically… Politicians live life quintessentially, We vote for MPs who we think, essentially, Will do the job least damagingly… In return, 26 taxes go up, regretfully, Starmer gives pensioners a financial raspberry! Commoners hate… his MPs show him ambivalence! He may be vacillatious, the voters are unfelicitous, A backhand-taker, give him a certificate, Did God permit this animal to rule us? With his lies & constant obscurantist blatherskite! Lies is another word spoken in omission, But we’ll see him consider any admission, As he agrees to send more ammunition… Compassion to him is an apparition, Of course, some eye him with a different complexion, Would never give him any condemnation, They’ll be part of some financial conglomeration! Overseas investment, banks denying the crucifixion. Fair enough, I’m still awaiting confirmation… What’s he done? My conclusion is he causes confusion, His manner & words show floccinaucinihilipilification. To pensioners; flabbergastation, N.I. increases, employers frustration, To voters, he’s an overpaid fustilarian. The self-employed, driven to fulmination! Taxpayers, give him a two-fingered gesticulation! He must be the current most-hated man in the nation, He’s guilty of inspiring the common man’s hortation!. Personally, I think he’s a schmuck, a sleeveen, His stealing from pensioners was particularly mean! We’ll mostly be dead come the next election… My last words are typed with some hesitation... Bear in mind they come from a man lacking education, I’ll be waiting for him, at his damnation! And we can both have a discussion in Hell’s dungeon! – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – Early morning—well, not all that early, really—around 06:30 hrs, morning views from the kitchenette window.
Later on.
An hour or so later.
Toothache Tiffany kicked off.
Teatimeish.
Not a proper meal. But the innards had been playing me up all day, and I didn’t want to annoy them anymore. I was content with what I had: Milk Roll sliced bread, nobutter-buttered tomatoes, beetroot, and red onions. The last pickled egg: red onion, a splodge of Marmite, or Vegemite—I like them both. And mini franks of undetermined meat and flavour, but they tasted okay.
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
I’m struggling with toothache, seizures, and concentration. Lack of sleep is doing me no good, either. I can’t get caught up.
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
Let’s see how I go in the morning and if the computer is kind to me when it comes to saving photos. I’m low.
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – TTFNski!
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – But does that include the product? – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – GAWD, I’VE NEVER FELT LOWER! Forgive this start to this messed-up, dismal, disappointing, depressing, distressing, dispiriting, disheartening, discouraging, demoralising, dismal, daunting, disenchanting, disquieting, discomposing, disturbing, distressing and deplorable due to this computer-preventing-success blog.
The hardest and least successful day ever. I’m assuming that the end is near. I’ll lose all I hold dear… It’s not a computer here; it’s an electric alligator… The web’s the master aggravator and alienator! A bloodsucker, a mental boneshaker… That’s turned me into a bellyacher, Duodenal Donald had never been pain-fuller! I’m frustrated, getting angrier, & arsier! After the stroke, I acquired aboulomania, It got worse swiftly, I can tell yer… My Doctor seems more like an arbitrageur. Did she know, or was she being cagier? Indigestion or maybe apepsia or dyspepsia. Hospital check-up – Duodenal Ulcer… In later life, one tends to become more toeier, I became addicted to my new Atari computer… A joy to behold, it made me happier, Then the web came, loved by each Diddler & Fiddler, Manipulated and financed by the Oligarcher, Thus, I approach the end of my tether… Tired of failure, trying to be a trier… Alone, is it time to meet my maker? I try to get out of the depressional mire… Will my spirits ever get higher? Will Heaven be waiting, or Hell’s fire? I don’t think it should really matter… Well, not to me, a failed snippersnapper!
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
I had half an hour of when the computer aloowed me to get pictures on… not many. Bitterly dejected now. When I got up from the depths of the c1966, £300 Oxfam charity shop bought, second-hand, wincingly grotty, beige coloured, crumb-covered from my nocturnal nibblings, itch-making, uncomfortable, positively unhealthy & dangerous, no longer operational, virus-breeding, easy-to-fall-out-of, Catheter-tube-trapping, recliner. The nocturnal bag is nice and full. Changed and photographed the old-fashion clock calendar. Got these photos to save to go on here, but not for eight hours! Very anger-making! Took the misty morning shot.
Hours later, I emptied the day catheter bag into the jug. It looked awfully full of bits of red stuff floating about in the urine. 640ml’s worth.
It was my worst day ever with this com-dam-puter; I lost so many hours failing to get it to save the photos. I did what I tried yesterday, thinking how well it went then; if I do the same, it must work again. What a Dork!
During the last four hours on the computer, I just got one photo to save! And that was one of the worst I’ve ever taken.
Going to have to get things ready for the visit to the Doctors and DVT Warfarin clinic tomorrow.
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – Monday Morning. I got up at 05:00hrs and got the ablutions done. Took a poo, and it was two-tone in both ways. Started off taking agony and ages to get it moving; one giant torpedo plopped out, followed by soft, gooey Trotsky Terence splashes! A few weeny cuts shaving. I didn’t do all the medical checks, as the DVT nurse is going to check the read end in the examination later at the surgery; blood and Haemorrhoid Harold are to be tested again.
Then, there’s the RSV inoculation. I’m looking forward to walking there and back. It’s a shame I could not arrange a lift. I sorted the waste bags, made a brew, and got on the computer. I started it and did a clean-up with Ccleaner. That allowed me to save some outstanding photos! I’d got about nine to go on here. After saving three, it stopped again! It would not let me save those taken today to file!
Was I angry? Did I get all flustered and annoyed? Did I swear & curse at all? Well, yes!
Carer Richard arrived. He sorted the medications for me. And took the laundry down for me. Photos from yesterday (Sunday). Just three of them! A jar of the Golokowa meat. (Pork shank), potatoes done in the air fryer, peas done in the slow cooker, sliced tiny tomatoes yellow & red, and some extra strong mature cheddar cheese in the bowl. Spirit vinegar on the potatoes. It was the best-tasting meal I’ve had in a long time! I’ll try to remember to stop at the deli shop on my way to the Doctor’s this morning to get some more of the meat. It was super and had lip-smackingly good meat jelly in it! Early evening sky.
I did this blog up to here. Realising that I was going to be out for hours, I decided to send this off now before I prepped things for the surgery and clinic. It’ll be a long day, with lots of walking and hobbling, so blogging may be too challenging to get done—although, with my computer, it’s always that way!
I’m hoping the earlier warning that if the results are not good, I may be taken into the QMC immediately and will be in for a few days. I think it’ll all be down to the blood status (INR). However, my EQ tells me this will not happen, and I believe it.
I might have to leave the blog until later. See how I feel after the local anaesthetic wears off. There will probably not be time left in the day anyway. 14:00hrs, examination, then the procedures, then getting home again… home? I mean back to my cell… no, flat! Hehehe!
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – I’d been out for beer & darts, I was feeling merry, I took a shortcut home through the cemetery, I was between the trees having a pee… And a voice started talking so pleadingly! I turned & there was a man who looked skeletony… I was stunned when he asked hoarsely… ‘Ave yer gorra gasper matey? Adding, yer the first one who’s ever seen me! The things I’ve seen, rising from my grave nightly, I asked rather wearily and sceptically… Are you dead then? A little sarcastically, Oh, yer, I snuffed it in 1963, Did yer die painfully or sinisterly? Nae, boringly… Worappened specifically? The missus killed me! I went out for a beer at the Apple Tree… But I drank beer tremendously, Had a pee up against that tree… I tangled the zip, and it cut my weenie! Bled to death, no help around this vicinity, Off to la-la land, fell down this grave to the hereafter, Laid there and died, drunk, couldn’t even pray, They put someone’s coffin on top of me the next day, Still, I can get out at night now to play, I’m sorry to hear that; what can I say? I fooled yer. I’m just a dead hornswoggler…
Commonly known as the Grim Reaper, Oh, you’re the soul taker? I’ll not read the warrant; it’s just a longueur, You’ll be free of worries & hylomania, I could let you stay longer, however… Delay taking your soul to the hereafter, Can you help the Grim Reaper Grand Templar? What does he want, your head denunciator? Fags! To calm his temper! Just take me; my life here is just crepuscular!
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – Moments of Mind-Mangling-Malcolm – Out-of-Its – Sandra’s Seizures – Mind-Blanks; Call them whatever you like, but they controlled most of this “What-Day-Is-It” – Where-am-I?” “What am I doing” day!
The computer contributed to the mental confusion, stubbornly stopping me from saving files.
Eventually, after the fourth Ccleaning session, I circumvented some of the photo refusals by grouping some together and making them minuscule. And it worked!
I thought this was the solution. I tried again with others, and not only did it not save them, but it deleted the ones I was trying to save them as! So I lost some more of them. Frustrated is not a strong enough word! The day did not start well. I got up at 07:15hrs. I’ve been getting up later for some reason. The night pouch was far too deep, a colour to my liking. Searching the nurse’s bags to find a mesh catheter pouch holder took me so long. And proved to be another of my many, varied multitude of failures. The door chime chimed. Carer Sam came in. The medications were sorted, the diabetic socks sorted, and a short natter was enjoyed. The Kodak Camera was in a temperamental mood. It kept telling me each time I returned the card from the computer to the camera that it needed Formatting. But this will erase all content on the SD card!
All I could do was to take it out and put it back in again, sometimes up to 8 times!
I shot the room to see if it worked this time. Then I took a snap of my beloved tree copse. Unfortunately, it will soon be bare of leaves. Bootiful!
I got the ablutions sorted. One gigantic mega-torpedo with rear-end splitting capabilities! (Haha! I don’t know why I laughed then; it wasn’t funny!)
Two little tiny nicks shaving that oddly took ages to stop bleeding. The amount of Brut needed surprised me. Maybe my INR level is a bit high? When I stepped out of the bowl of antiseptic-disinfected water that I’d been standing in a while shaving, panged like crazy, and this, at only raising the leg about 2 feet to clear the bowl. Odd that! I Phorpain gelled both Cartilages and Arthur Itis’s knees. Got the olive Oil in both earholes. Blephagelled the right… no, left eye, and sprayed both. Then I rubbed the barrier cream on the arms, hanging belly, and base of Little Inchy. The blotches and spots had returned above each eye, so they also got some barrier-creaming. I added some Germolene on top.
Poor Little Inchie was the next job to tackle. Left till last again, you notice. Maybe I enjoy pain. What’s the word I want? Maybe I’m a masochist, is it? I’m sure Little Inchie shrivels up even more when he sees the tube coming his way. I went to the kitchen, got the earhole sprayer, and gave both ear canals a good blast of purified water. I cut some Warfarin tablets in half for the Caregivers to use on their morning calls. The dosage is currently 1½ every day until the next test on Monday, November 25th. I think. I scribbled some notes of the day on the reminder pad and made a mug of tea using JS Extra Strong and Thompson’s Punjana tea bag. It tasted delicious!
They started coming at me as soon as I got on the computer. After this, they rarely gave me a rest. And here I am, trying to write this at 0950hrs tomorrow morning, with nothing added to the memory notes from here on. It felt like an instant change from being somewhat with it to being unsure of what I was doing. I’ll mention this to the nurse on Monday at the surgery. That’s something else that concerns me; three carers said they would try to get through to Easy-Link for me and get back to me to see if they can do me a lift. I’ve heard nothing. So, I must walk to the surgery and back on Monday (tomorrow). I’m told it’s not their job to ring up for me. I ask them to, cause of the mistakes I’ve made in the past with mishearing what they say on the phone. Face-to-face is a lot easier, but I’ve had trouble using a telephone or mobile since the stroke. Now that the landlines have gone ‘Fibre’, catching everything said over the phone is more challenging than ever. I’ll not bother them again. I felt guilty asking them in the first place.
Anyway, I managed last Tuesday without a lift. It about crippled me with the effects of the hypos. Hehe! I hope the RSV jab is kinder to me than the Covid & Flu ones were.
I had the microwave heat-and-eat dishes arrive. It said to avoid staining the pot, do not cook tomato sauces, baked beans, or fatty foods.
I was going to have some lamburgers. Carer Joanne said they are cookable in the air fryer. But because I wanted to try the microwave pots, I put a readymade meal and some cooked beef in a pot and cooked them for 6 minutes in the microwave. I lost the photo along with all the others, eaten by the computer. The meal looked okay and smelt fine. But oh, dear, it tasted terrible. The first time I used the microwave dish, I left it stained already.
