Wednesday 25th March 2020
Ukrainian: Середа, 25 березня 2020 Pоку
02:35hrs: I awoke, still feeling a tad groggy and tired. I waited for the brain to engage gear and the fog to lift from the grey cells, and things became mentally at least, active! By the time I’d had an enthusiastic and satisfying itch around my massive, wobbly, overweight midriff, I recognised the urgent need to get myself to the wet room! So I did!
(As I now know, this was but the first trip of many to be made today! Oh, dearie me, yes!) The flow, yet again, began of the innards own accord. (It was close, but I made it in time, this time!) The evacuation contents reminded me of Brussel sprout sized clumps, that broke apart as they landed in the bowl with a series of splashes! Over quickly, no pain really at all! Not messy, and only the tiniest spot of bleeding. Even Little Inchies fungal lesion was leaking, but it was so minuscule. I distinctly recall, (and that in itself is a rarity!), thinking to myself as I cleaned things up; “Well if they are all like this, I’ll have no problems!” An acceptable session!
To the kitchen, and thought about the wonderful, kind help I’m received, prompted when I got the bottle of milk from the fridge, that Oberstgruppenfhureress Angela had arranged and one of the ladies had delivered to my door for me last night! Made a brew of Thompsons Punja tea.
I few moments of Mind-Thoughts blasting: Spirits dipped a tad when I went to get the medications out of the draw. I am now taking the Warfarin doses blind. No blood test for weeks now, so obviously, I have no idea what amount I should be taking! At least if I am imbibing too much, it might just be cutting myself and bleeding to death, might happen if Little Inchies fungal lesion flows. Too little Warfarin, and a stroke, seizure or heart attack. But, of course, that’s providing that the Coronavirus doesn’t get me first! Or Duodenal Donald doesn’t burst open. Maybe Anne Gyna’ll get me? Or the mechanical ticker battery will run out? Or the blood cancer starts again? Perhaps, Nicodemus’s Neurotransmitters will go into complete failure? Or, the Peripheral Neuropathy may start an involuntary right leg Schuhplattler dance, when I’m crossing the road, and I’ll get squashed by a lorry? No, no, no! With the lock-down I’ll not be outside will I, and will there be any lorries on the road by then anyway? Ah, the part bullet still inside me might suddenly rust? Nae, its been no bother for donkey’s years. It’s a game innit? Hahaha! You’ve got to laugh!
By the time I’d stopped the Mind-Blast, the tea had gone cold. So I took the medications to the computer desk, oiled the ear-holes, creamed certain areas in need of the same, and made another brew. I noticed that I had acquired what looked like a scorch mark on my right hand? No doubt during a period of a Nicodemus’s Neurotransmitter failure and the nerves did not inform the brain.
Off to the computerisationing. I had to do a graphic, I had no choice in the matter, this idea came into my mind for a funny Coronavirus page top, I just had to get it completed while it was fresh in my mind.
Then, onto updating the Tuesday blog, but I had a look on the Emails first.
I tried again to read my notes to use on the phone call with the help, from Angela.
But it was guesswork. Eventually, and it took me an aeon, I got the updating finished. Put some pics on Pinterest. Emailed the link to my vast number of followers, both of them!
Then, I realised I had still got the medications on the tray, not taken. Schmuck! I got them gathered but dropped a yellow Lansoprazole. It took me ages to find it (Well. I thought I had!) The struggle to get down once I did spot it, I used the new picker-upperer (Thanks again, Jenny!) and retrieved it. Struggled to get back up again, and then realised it was not a tablet at all, it was part of potato-chip! Most likely from one of my nocturnal-nibbling sessions). Which meant I had to continue searching for the capsule. It took me so long to find it, I was on the verge of giving up when I did. It must have bounced when I dropped it, cause it was about six foot away on the carpet near the balcony windows! The picker-upperer did its job again. The capsule was washed, and then, taken along with the other medications. What a faffling _art about!
Embarrassing – Odd that I should use the term I did there. Because that is the very thing that emitted from my innards moments later, a little sort of silent involuntary Plump, felt more than heard! I hastened to the Porcelain Throne, but didn’t make it in time! The evacuation again was under the control of my innards. Runny, messy, and smelly. Yet, still, the movement was painful? Had a shower and cleaned up, new PP’s on, and the trousers were thrown away, disinfected thoroughly, in a black bag on there own! Now my spirits sank, shame grew, and a despondency developed!
Eventually, I made a start on this blog. But with the indelicate, humiliating events, my heart had lost some pep. I pondered on what I had eaten that might have caused this worrisome trouble. I’m sure I’d taken nothing out-of-date food in? Ah, well! I was confident that this that diarrhorea is not on the Coronavirus symptoms list. I’ll check later. Diarrhorea Duncan came on suddenly. Things have gone from solid and reluctant, to the opposite in a matter of hours! Mmm!
I was taking some photographs from the window, and the first one was shot. With the aid of the step-ladder and a deal of nervousness (Hehe!), was down below the window on Chestnut Walk. Compared to the last such a shot (right), last weekend, there were more cars and fewer people in view!
I tried again at getting to book an order for Morrisons. But, although I was initially so pleased to be able to get on the site, there were no delivery slots available.
Mysteriously, they told me my trolley is currently £26.90 and contains 19 items?
I then read about Morrisons supplying £35 food boxes, £10 delivery. But could not get to find them on the site, of course.
One more into the breach, I tried for Iceland. Same thing. no slots available. It’s all frustrating and confusing… No, it’s not! Sorry.
From nowhere, disorientation and dizziness fell on me. I felt proper poorly. Then a coughing sneezing session. The guts rumbled, and hobbled off for the third trip to the Porcelain throne! By gum, Trotski Terence had taken over the tummy controls now! Eurgh! Most uncomfortable experience. Cleaning up was another big bother for me.
I gave up computing and any thoughts of mind control as the head spun.
Feeling almost exhausted, not able to take any interest in cooking or preparing fodder, I made a meal of sliced Piccolo tomatoes and the last but one Cox’s apple. I found a bag of crisps and had them with the so-called meal. No desire, hunger or need for more.
Computing left in a right state, I just stripped off, and got down in the recliner, put the TV on, and slowly nibbled at the food. The stomach-grinding began to ease off a little. But I felt so tired. The regular dropping off and waking a few minutes later went on for hours. I had no inclination to do or think about anything much when I was awake.
Then the shakes put an end to any thoughts of getting to sleep for hours. I thought the recliner would fall apart, or I might shake myself off of the chair! Hehehe!
What a pickle!
TTFNski, all the bestest each!