– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – My situation could be described as delicate,
So many concerns it’s hard to navigate…
Worsened by not being numerate,
Although I’m not yet nonliterate,
I talk to myself, and how do I reciprocate?
My cerebrum needs to reorchestrate,
If Doreen Dementia would only vacate,
Maybe then, I’d no longer verbigerate?
The norovirus is making me ululate,
I still cannot manually voluntarily urinate!
My confidence & abilities absquatulate,
Hopes, plans & desires are all abirritate,
Needs that vary every hour assimilate…
Single thoughts, problems, will bifurcate,
It’s my personal choices that I berate,
I’m getting myself into the right state…
At 10 o‘clock, I could self-strangulate,
Complete shame, disgust, and self-hate,
Depressions by the hundredweight,
11 o’clock, I’m impossible to humiliate!
My worries, & fears, I did incarcerate,
The Enoxaparin, which I did inoculate,
Which left me with some stomach-ache,
But I was worry-free to compensate…
Others, worse off, I was compassionate,
Twelve noon, my joy did regenerate,
Up & down, it’s hard to hariolate…
Then flow-back came from my prostate,
This time, I reacted not as an ingrate…
Lots of folks have more worries on their plate,
The ailment with which I have to cohabitate,
Leaves me confused, incoherent & inchoate,
These good moments may well be inquorate…
But they are so precious, mate…
My situation, as of now, is not so delicate! – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – Great Results This Week!
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – After hours of complete failure to sleep, I gave up and got up at 04:00hrs. I kept changing from the bed to the c1966, £300 charity shop bought second-hand, wincingly grotty, beige coloured, not working, crumb-covered from the nocturnal nibblings, itch-making, uncomfortable, virus-breeding, easy-to-fall-out-of, recliner, and back again.
There was not a lot in the nocturnal catheter pouch. But it was a beautiful colour even if it was too dark on the NHS colour scale (It was a 7). Note that this indoors-set shot hid the blotch very well on the black bit!
I got the waste bag to the doorway, then went to take some morning snaps from the kitchenette window. It felt bitter cold as I opened the window. Then, I had to change my plans again. The innards indicated it would be wise to visit the Porcelain Throne. So, I did!
Yet again, it was a close call that I got to the and seated in time! The evacuation couldn’t have taken 30 seconds at most – but the follow-up motions, which were all liquid, took much longer to escape. I dared not move until I was as sure as I could be that they had finally finished coming. The cleaning up of my muscular, firm, lithe little rear end took me ages. Then, the Porcelain cleaning and deodorising had to be done. The medicalisationings had some moments of humour. Is that the correct word to use? 1: Taking off the PPs, as I tore down the seam, I caught the top catheter gripper with my broken fingernail; this caused me to tug at the tube stuck down the poor and now painful . Naturally, the blood flowed out all down my leg and foot and onto the wetroom carpet and floor. Naturally, the pain didn’t bother a man of my youthful calibre; I did not swear, spit, or howl out. Although the cleaning up and all the bending kicked off , it really annoyed . Of course, I just laughed it off!
Anne Gyna’s pains were not on at this stage, which was very welcome. After about an hour of cleaning up the mess, I continued with the medicationalisationings. Harold’s haemorrhoids were Germaloided. The colossal belly folds, underarms, and back fat were barrier-creamed. Then I did the eye drops and spraying.
2: I got the olive oil dropper to do the earholes next. I assume I had not cleaned the barrier cream off my hands properly; The bottle shot out of my hands, hit the wall, bounced back to fall on my , with the oils spread all over me, then the floor I’d just cleaned! I saw the funny side, and I did laugh!
3: Now joined in the grief & agony-giving party of ailments. I cleaned up the blood again. 4: With more bending and pulling, it opened up again. Humph! I take these , and in my stride, you know.
Hours after my first attempt, I got snaps of the morning view. A sort of brownie-green hue to go with the 07:50hrs photographs taken? I tried a closer-in shot of Cavendish Vale. That’s the road with the suspiciously first snow-melting roof tiles on the left of this picture. Hehe!
Carer Precious made the 08:25 and 11:25 hrs calls of the day. He tried to sort a camera out for me, but it beat him. It was nice of him to try to get it to work for me, anyway.
I got on with updating the blog. Soon got it posted. Shame about all the time lost in the wet room farcicalness, else I might have caught up with it. Har-Har!
Carer Joanne called to collect the hand washing for me. She’d been off a long time with the Nocovirus Flu. She’s not back to her normal self yet, and it showed, bless her. ♥
I was annoyed with CorelDraw again, and the computer went so slow that I feared the worst! However, after CCleaning it, it got a smidge better—but not on CorelDraw.
I got the ode done and dusted for tomorrow – yes! In front, at last, I thought. Until I realised that I had not completed all of the templates. Then I recalled having a series of frequent but short bursts of the other day and must have thought I’d done them. So, back to catching up again.
I took a snap through the kitchenette window. The top right is a gloomy-looking view, complete with ‘the ‘Persistent Blotch’ showing. It’s easier to hide when taking night shots cause the blotch blends in the darkness and is less conspicuous.
The waste bags had not been taken to the rubbish chute yet. So, I took them to the rubbish chute. On my way back after depositing the bags down the tube, it gave way. No tumble or fall, though, just pain. Hehe! I smiled at it and whistled as I hobbled back to the flat.
Around 16:00hrs, the Co-op food delivery arrived. I’d stocked up with the cheesy bread rolls. I’m rather partial to these. I also got some ready-made beef and caramelised onion sandwiches. It was not cheap, but I was feeling idle and tired and had no sleep lately. I added some cooked smoked bacon, chicken thighs, German smoked cheese, & sliced tomato to the sarnie and overcooked battered onion rings. Well, I like them browned a little. Salted the sliced tomatoes. Nice! Complete with semi-hidden blotch! A different Carer did the last two calls.
I’m getting miffed about not getting any sleep in. I watched the football highlights, then nipped through the channels to find something to watch. I moved from the bed back to the aged, grotty-looking c1966 made, charity-shop-bought, horribly beige-coloured, £300, Harold’s Haemorrhoid-testing, non-operational, acne-giving, virus-breeding, rickety, easy-to-fall-out-of recliner. But it made no difference to the sleep deprivation until I turned off the TV at 03:00hrs. Sometime then, I nodded off! Yes! Waking up coughing and sneezing at 04:00hrs!
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – I once had hopes of understanding Aristotle, His views seemed inevitable, apodeictical, Which led me to study causations, aetiological, My lack of education drove me apoplectical, My efforts all failed, confused & pathetical, Depressed at my failure, I tried phenobarbital, My studies, & results sadly turned pedantical, I gained an appreciation of beauty, philosophical, Accepting my abnormalities as psychological, The black & whiteness of life turned quixotical, My inner thoughts turned into a vague quiddle… Understanding others’ problems became quintessential, My thought processes turned quodlibetical, Decisions taken? Some, primarily quasiexperimental, Asleep, awake, I’d stutter & gabble. My brain turned into a tangled graticule, As Dementia began to rule, I turned gullible… To graceful, grateful, then gladiatorial, Confused by numbers, figures, things horological, Life came hazardable, unhealable, not hearable,
Things hopeful, humourful, became hurtful, With no control, events results became happenstantial, Why, where, whom, which, when… are now idiopathical, Problems insolvable, inconcludable, not influenceable, Hopes, dreams, permanently imprisonable, Some things remain so impressionable… Nature, the trees, the sky, the bramble, The daisies, bluebells, mankind’s burial, The fish, the birds, even the dung beetle, I fear the oligarchal & bureaucratical, The politicians are so bribeable! – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – Oh, flipping ‘eck! Sleep is back to being accompanied by no less than . None of my usual tricks to shut him up worked. I tried guzzling soda water from the soda bottle. Nope! I moved from the hospital bed into the c1968, non-operational, tatty, scruffy, unkempt, uncomfortable, germ-breeding, Harold Haemorrhoid-Testing, catheter-tube-yanking, sickenly beige-coloured recliner. Nope, no good! This made him worse by lambasting away at my problems and faults! Grumph! I turned the TV on, which seemed to annoy him more than ever! This grinded away at my confidence. He’s been leaving me relatively hassle-free these past 6-7 nights. He’s back now!
I gave up and got up; my balance was in good condition as I released and emptied the Nocturnal Catheter Pouch. Then, a summoning from the innards to visit the Porcelain Throne arrived. So, I did! It was a Trotsky Terence performance similar to yesterday’s. But masses more of it!
I’m doing well with the Health Checks this week. Carried out the medical cleaning and medicationings. This cough medicine tastes horrible. Haha!
Computer on, & updated yesterday’s blog & posted it.
11:20hrs: Carer Kimberly came to do a finance and appointment check visit. Starting with an email filling-in form (At last! ) to make an appointment with the Dentist. It was made for Tuesday 11th February. Then I asked her to inform the District Nurses of this appointment in case it clashed with their appointment to change the Catheter Contraption. A good job I did, too, cause it did clash. They rearranged their time for Monday 10th February. I put these down in the Google calendar to be on the safe side. During the visit, the grinding dry cough returned. I fear the Influenza Norovirus is returning again. This is the last thing I need… but it is!
As departed, I had to rush to the wet room again. Another mega-messy mammoth dollop of an evacuation was taken! During the evacuation hit me, and it took me a while to get back up on my feet; then, it was a struggle to stay on them. Oh, dearie me!
I will try sitting down and getting some obviously needed sleep catch-up. I didn’t work, of course, but I took my mind off the ailments by watching an episode of ‘Heartbeat’ on TV. Then sat through a second episode, with little outbursts of the damned coughing and the occasional sneeze.
Influenza Norovirus is returning again! Back is the sleeplessness. Sore throat. Cough. Utter weariness. I tried to get some sleep and ended up doing nothing but watch TV, drowsily but no sleep as such for the next nine hours. During which two carers came. Richard was one of them, and Precious the other. Confusionableititus Reigned. Not in a good condition. Sweet Jenny phoned – she has a camera I can use, bless her, she’ll drop it off tomorrow for me. Bless you, Jenny! ♥
I gave up on getting any sleep and got up around 04:00hrs to find I’d left the computer on, and I am now getting blue memory warnings on the screen.
May have trouble doing the blog. I’ll try to get the ode done on Thursday if nowt else.
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – Perhaps it’s time I was adulterised? I won’t qualify for being apostolised, Too late for me to be activised or adrenalised, I’m considering being re-alcoholised… I’m no academist, a failed accordionist, A mistake-maker? I’m the most awesome! I’m not a Blairist or a Bonapartist, My thoughts on Starmer are by bloodthirstiest, As PMs go, he is undoubtedly he’s the brutalist, Farmers & pensioners are his biggest bigotries, I wish him cancer, pain and blepharitis,
While I’m at it, add brainsickness…
I have/had each of these ailments & sickness,
His stealing of my fuel allowance made me stressed,
My hatred can no longer be suppressed,
I’m a sceptisist, while he is a lying Satanist,
To Labours’ lost Cor-Values, he is a sacrilegist!
If he’d be kind enough to die. He’d be so unmissed!
He’d expect more backhanders in heaven’s mists…
Where dead pensioners & farmers resist…
Welcoming him with headbutts & fists!
But my guilt will not be vanquished!
Or should that be unvanquished? – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – 07:10 hrs: I stirred, woken by a grinding chesty cough, Dizzy Dennis, with Twtiching-Neck-Nigel trying his best to detach himself from my torso. Realising the time indicated that I’d slept the longest night for over many weeks, 8 hours! The phlegm-clearing continued for a few minutes longer. Then I remembered that the Ocado order was due between 07:00-0800hrs; & I worried in case it had already been and I didn’t hear the intercom. I took off the nocturnal catheter pouch, a 7 on the graph, and as doing so, the door chime rang out. At first, I thought it must be the delivery, but Carer Richard came in. I was coughing away, so I took a swig of the cough linctus. Gawd, it tastes so foul! Eurgh! Richard looked slightly tired at the end of his first shift back at work (naturally). He checked the medications and recorded the shortages, which were issued today. The last of the Anne Gyna Painkillers was taken. It will be a painful wait until the lad orders them from the doctor. She electronically orders replacements from the chemist, and his average delivery time has been three days up till now. So, a possible four days ahead without any help getting any ease Anne Gyna. I turned on the computer to check the time of the Ocado order, and it arrived as I was doing so. I put the things away and took a can of Mighty Malt that someone told me to try to perk things up a little. I drank it while typing this. Then, I tried to sort out yesterday’s colossal error in making the templates and storing them out of order. What a Plonker!
COMPUTER CALAMITY! There I was, doing well with the blog updates. Suddenly, the cursor went blue, and I could not type anything else in the blog, ode or word list. After pressing the Esc button, I got a new email browser. I closed it in the same pickle as the other one. I tried various combinations of Ctrl Win & Alt buttons. All to no avail. I closed the computer, saved what it would allow me to, and selected “Restart Windows.”
At 11:40 a.m., Carer Chloe arrived. A new full-sized Blue Screen came up. Options offered; 1) Open in Windows 10 browser. 2) Close this computer 3) Contact the MS engineer assistant line and another one 4) that was so technical it had me beaten. Chloe wanted me to press Number One. But I had set up Google as my browser. After getting myself even more confused, I closed the computer. Waited a few minutes & restarted again.
I was baffled but pleased to say that it was working!
RETURN I’d been half-hoping she may have gone on vacation for a nice break. But, No! Silly me!
Carer Promise did the last two calls for me. Medications were given & diabetic socks were taken off. On the last call, he remembered he’d forgotten the prescription Medications. He nipped down and fetched them. Then, attach the nocturnal catheter bag. Thus, he saved me a lot of agonies when the Anne Gyna meds ran out. Carer Richard’s planning and Precious saved the say again.
Anne Gyna did her best to get at me again, but taking two of the tablets must have disappointed her aims.
Ranolazine & Beta-blockers at the ready!
A night of broken sleep patterns again, but I soon nodded off again each time that and/or woke me up. Yes, DD is back!
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – Talking to Doreen Dementia communicably, It has never been or will be very easy. Cognitive Impairment Iris is another problem for me, Avoiding things depreciatory or derogatory… They both warp my limited etymology, It annoys them when I get stuttery… Why? When I’m communicating mentally, I appreciate that I stutter verbally, Especially when I talk aguishly nervously… I’ve disabilities in physical & mental functionality, This is just a barely-bearable reality, A by-product of Peripheral Neuropathy, And having the stroke, regretfully,
The brain moves between agony, self-hatred & complacency,
It seems my neurotransmitters have lost choreography.
When the Neurosurgeon hacks in cerebrumly…
In my brain, what will he see? An electric melee?
My surviving nerve ends, as confused as me?
Or Doreen & Rita, having a cup of tea, bizarrerie,
Deciding how they can attack me… bloodcurdlingly, Can he drag them out using keyhole surgery? Maybe they got in when I had my appendectomy? They’re illegal immigrants; they didn’t ask Inchy! Annoyingly, my pre-op emotion is one of apathy… They get pleasure from Mind-Mangling, you see… But how did they get at me? Serendipity? I have to suffer their Satanophany, frustratingly, If this op fails, will I be brokenhearted? Hardly! I’ll show no displeasure or recalcitrancy, I’ll be in cloud-cuckoo-land, & thankfully… To the surgeons, nurses, & staff at the QMC, And go back to my life’s mental hurly-burly,
Where my own thoughts lack authenticity,
My memory is beyond any help or assistance,
Self-worth and good luck show imperceptibility,
To my struggle with mental mobility,
My ailments gift of physical disability,
Glaucoma Gladys makes my vision foggy,
Shaking Shaun keeps me feeling groggy,
Anne Gyna, currently the epitome of agony,
Catheter leaks, leaving my leg & slippers soggy!
The morning ritual of cleaning things that are bloody,
Little Inchies Fungal Lesion; he’s also sticky,
Eye drops & sprays, lip balm, cream the piles, that’s dodgy!
Yes, back to the flat of milk and honey,
Computer, mobile, and TV troubles, not funny…
Where I’m perceived unsympathetically,
The mini seizures, Leg dances, Twitching-neck-Ali,
Where I’m assured of being ignored & querimony,
And of Fauxpas & Whoopsiedangleploppery!
And await my Glaucoma op, & retinopathy…
And the everyday hassle from Arthur Itis, Not Askey!
The terrible twins, Catheter right, Carol, left, Chloe,
When they go, at best, you’ll fall on one knee…
Which always sets off a reaction from the FND…
Arthur Itis, Cartilages Carol and/or Chloe,
Sometimes, the Catheter pouch will blow!
The tube in Little Inchie yanks; you will never know…
The pain entailed cleaning & medicating with Opzeluro,
My right testicle swells to the size of a baking potato!
Still, I don’t like to complain, though! – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
I had a lot of bother in the morning trying to get this blog started. I’m starting to get all het-up now.
I got 3 hours kip in, though. Ye-Haaa!
It’s now Saturday, and it’s 19:00hrs! So this will be short. Otherwise, Saturdays will never get started. Arghh! Sorry about this. Not coping well.
The new ailment that I thought was the Cartilages… now I don’t think it was. Several times when the knees gave way today, both went together. Terrible sensations. From the ankles, knees and up to the thigh. Everything wobbled, and the instant weakness and balance loss all but had me over a few times. Actually, it did have me over once. But I crumpled conveniently onto the second-hand, c1968, eyesorely-horrendously grungy beige-coloured, £300, charity shop bought, crumb-retaining, microorganism-microbe producing, gungy, moth-eaten, beige-coloured, non-working, bacillus encouraging, incommodious, Haemorrhoid Harold testing, c1968 recliner.
The nocturnal Catheter Pouch was classed as a No. 8 on the NHS Richter Scale Card. Hehe!
Carer Sherida called. She kindly removed the socks that were not done earlier and suggested I ask the next carer to put the fresh ones on. She checked to ensure that they were diabetic ones for me. This way, I could get a proper shower and medicalisationing session early.
I struggled to finish the show and was dubious about my weak legs. Constipation: Conrad was still in control of the Porcelain Throne duties. There was a smidgeon of blood, but it was hardly worth mentioning. The shaving: I thought I had done a good bloodless job. I got under the shower and used the shower chair for the shower session, which was well over an hour. Then, I ensured all the needed treatment areas of my magnificent, muscular, youthful body were well dried, drying the Catheter bag and tubing simultaneously.
Then, as I was getting on the dressing gown, I felt all the hairs I’d missed on my neck hole when shaving. I was a midge annoyed as I got the tackle out and gave the neck a go over again. The bleeding took me ages of time and half a bottle of Brut aftershave to stem the flow. Humph!
Carer Sherida took the laundry bag down for me. Pound to a penny, the bag gets stolen, or the clothes disappear again.
Carer Sam did the midday spot.
Carer Precious Called. I mentioned the low quantity of the Anne Gyna medications, and they told me they had been delivered.
I feel I’m going to go through pain like never before after the tablets run out on Monday.
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – INCHY’s ODE Called on by an acquisitor, investigator or burglar,
We deal with far too many an abrogator…
A Prime Minister who gives us apepsia,
Virgo Keir, who astrologers say is a charmer?
Who’s open to a bribe and/or backhander,
I’m sick of him saying his dad was a toolmaker.
: : : : :
Always something needed to clarify, certify…
Actions to decertify, destinkify, degunkify…,
Secrets, errors to reveal, declassify, demystify…
Questions, who, when, which & what’s the fee?
Higher, lower, how, who, too few, too many…
Will the earth die, with no petrol or electricity?
: : : : :
Keir hates farmers, & those on a pension,
Bad times for those with a medical affliction,
And for proletariats with ambition…
Why Keir’s not a Tory is beyond my comprehension,
As is his lack of socialism and compassion.
: : : : :
Some people can’t walk, hear or see…
People get addicted to drugs & go alcohol-free,
Some act naturally with hatred… aggressively,
Vandalism & bullying is annoyingly scary,
There’s a lack of control & abstinency,
Folk act violently to antiquity & authority…
We’ve known this was coming for years… sadly, The world’s end, I mean; then we’ll all be free! – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – 04:30hrs: I stirred but without the usual jumping and jerking. This was replaced this morning by . Well, it made a nice change for me. I got the removed and felt the need to check the kitchen. I had doubts about the verity of my last night’s checks on the state of the taps, stove, food fridge, and freezer doors. Apart from the kitchen looking a mess, I need not have bothered. There were no running taps, stoves left running, or taps (faucets) left on. I used the old camera (not that I had any choice left now) to take photos to see how they would come out. Oh dear! I took a wash and utilised the Porcelain Throne. At least the passing of the evacuation was far easier than when was in charge. But it was super messy and needed a lot of cleaning up. Which I did! Then I olive oiled the earholes and cleaned and creamed the affected left eye and lids. Put the lip salve on the mouth. Ointmentated the knees to help hopefully keep down the pains from , and of course, . I’m glad to say it has eased off already. Then, I did the nasty bit, getting the cream onto . Arghhh! I just laughed it off, of course. Ahem! I took some shots with the old camera, hoping to improve on yesterday’s earlier ones. As I opened CoelDraw and prepared to import, she gave me a dose of her moving pains in sequence. It felt as if it was running amok. I was close to pressing my wristlet alarm, and as I was getting ready to, things calmed down tremendously. It didn’t stop or anything ridiculous, but it was entirely bearable. I was collating the pictures and saw the one that I did last night. Here it is; I noticed the marks on the right-hand side. Then, I realised with the aid of the spyglass that it was all the way across. I hoped that today’s photos were not going to have it on them. All of this morning’s efforts were below standard for many reasons. Odd hue? Blurry. The hallway that was taken with the flash on?
Disappointing, to say the least.
I had to try again after I’d got dressed. Well, the night shot wasn’t too bad.
I finally made a start to yesterday’s blog update. There’s not much to do, so I posted it off, too!
arrived in good spirits. Medications were given, but she forgot about putting my diabetic socks on for me, I asked her to as well. But I was in a bit of a seizure at times, so my fault. I’ll ask her when she does the financial help visit. I got around to cleaning the used files and making a start on the graphics for this blog. Made her second visit. I was deep in a mini-seizure again. I recall bits of the call. She opened the email, only one of interest from the bank. It was filed in the box. The email help went good, I sense. A questionnaire was done, and other things, but I can’t recall what they were now. Ah, I asked her to ask the Wardens if they had made the loss of Bank Details yet; I was not rushing; I just needed to settle whether it was being done. said she would ask them and let me know. Bless her.
But I heard nothing. I assume that ILC (Independent Living Coordinator), Oberstgrüppenfuhreress Warden and Primo Ballerina, Warden Deana, and ILC (Independent Living Coordinator) Generaloberstess, Ice skating champion florist and Warden Julie were not in the office when she called.
I forgot about the diabetic socks again!
I’ve got this out of order. I think it happened earlier in the day.
The J Sainsbury order arrived.
I tried the camera again.
I took one of the things the driver had put in the boxes for me in the hallway. Some of the delivered goods were photoed. A pack of Protection Pants, JS’s own label, are on the left of this first photo. This includes air fresheners, shaving foam, razors, and food bags. Nigerian Garden peas and sliced red onions went in the fridge.
I think I’m missing some photos.
So I looked at the SD card, but they are not on it. Does that pee you off? Well, not you, but it does me. Humph! The photos were not very good, were they? If I can get the passwords from the Wardens, I may consider contacting the bank to see if I’ll be allowed to buy a new camera. Then again, maybe not. Waste not want not!
I’ve decided to have the same dinner as last night because I have some Sopocka left to use and one of the rolls to bake. I won’t have tomatoes, though; they are horrible this time of year. I think I’ll have some sauce, though.
OH, AGAIN!
The peristency of them got to me. I put the Community Nurses folder with the telephone number on the stand, so just in case, I’ll remember where I put it. And it’s written in large letters on the front of the folder.
Decentish shots to the left of the kitchenette window were taken here, methinks. I do a lot of that, thinking... I do a lot of gorgetting, as well. Possibly a little more than thinking and remembering.
Then, I took this fairly good photograph to the left of the kitchen window.
This camera! The lousy shots, then decent ones. I must ask Tim Price what a ‘P’ on the camera selector button stands for.
Cut off the attacks instantly. She’s not been back since the same time that replaced her as the primary ailment of the moment. I’m fed up with this change all the time. Still, it makes for variety, I suppose. The cracked lips are improving, and not a single volt has shot up my right leg for three hours! Great!
Well, I’m sick of listening to my own moaning!
Cracking on with this blog, and I heard a noise through the Baby Monitor – but could not understand what was being said.
I got the wooden walking stick and went to the door. Opened it, but nobody was lurking. Luckily, as I turned around, I hit my shoulder on the door frame, which gave me some grief. Had she not, I would never have found the packet that someone had put on the top of the heater. It was the top-up prescription that Carer Richard had ordered for me on Monday. The chemist had popped it through the door without ringing the bell. Again!Hehe! I walked to the kitchen to put them in the medical drawer; a beautiful night view was available. Carer took a couple of shots, hoping to catch whatever it was high in the sky. Was it the moon? It was so tiny. It might have been Jupiter or Venus? But if it was either, where was the moon? You can only just see it in the sky in these pictures.
I also wondered what the red thing was in the top photo?
These came out reasonably well.
I took them all with the ‘P’ options selected. The inside photos didn’t come out as well, did they?
The Carer lent me his camera on loan! I took the following shots and those in the morning with it. Well, he took the first two tonight during his last visit to me. I’ve got it until midday tomorrow. It’s being collected. So, on Thursday’s blog, the only shots will be those taken in the morning. I told him I was nervous about dropping my Canon, and he said, No problem. You can buy me a new one—smilingly! With my record with cameras, I am sooo Weary!
Well, it’s late now and time to make myself some nosh. Oh, no! I’ll answer any comments on WP Reader first.
Eventually, I got the nosh made.
I didn’t make it into the bed. I tried to stay up late to watch the football highlights on the BBC. That didn’t work, of course.
I drifted off about five minutes into the footy. Woke up about an hour after the programme had finished.
And went back into slumberland!
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – Sayonara
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – What are you? What kind of achiever? What would you be if you weren’t a skiver? An autoworker, auctioneer or autobiographer… An archiver, aspirer, or an awe-giver? Backpacker, baker, ballbreaker… Banker, billposter, beggar or bedmaker? Cheesemaker, contractor or counterfeiter… A Chauffeur, croupier, or courier? A grave-digger, drug-taker, drugmaker… Murderer or some kind of doctor? Lift engineer, mayhap an Egyptologer… Driving test examiner, an art exhibiter? Fortune teller, foot-soldier, or fraudster? A gardener, food gatherer, gamekeeper? A house-sitter, work on a Helter Skelter? Interpreter, inventor, or interviewer… Ironmonger, investor, immigrant importer? A jailer, janitor, jitterbugger, or jester? Kindergartener, or a kettledrummer ? Lamplighter, lawyer, or do liposculpture? Microbrewer, or full-time Father/Mother… Microbrewer or full-time malingerer? A weed-neutraliser, maybe narcotrafficker… A military officer or a Newspaper obiter? Paperhanger, photographer, prize-fighter… A pilferer, plasterer or psychobabbler? Quantity surveyor or quartermaster? A reupholsterer, a Brexit renegotiater… Maintain a roller-coaster or racketeer? Schoolteacher, or work in a shoe store… Be a seismographer or a speechwriter… Market stallholder, mayhap a speedskater? A BP sphygmomanometer operator… An actor like Arnold Schwarzenegger… Possibly become a stripteaser… Streaker, shoplifter or stationmaster? A trumpeter, toastmaster or toymaker… Toreador, tax-gatherer, world traveller? A uranographer, become chairman of Unilever? A passport validator, or maybe a vintner… A furniture varnisher or a beach voltigeur? A basket weaver or a whoremaster? Work for Starmer as his yeasayer? A politician and or a Parole Boarder? You’ll learn how to be a freeloader, A bullshitter, wanker & hobnobber, Backhander-taker, hatemonger, & hornswoggler, A farmer & pensioner-impoverisher! If you fawn to & backhand Starmer… Your career will eventually stutter… As the end comes for Herr Starmer, He’ll blame every pensioner, He’ll blame every family farmer, He may lie his way to be a survivor? Starmer’s an excellent scammer & schemer, Did I mention how much I hate Starmer?
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – I awoke this merry morning and pottered about, photographing the nocturnal pouch and a few morning views. Then, after an hour or so, I realised I had not taken any falls, walked into anything, or dropped anything. My bleeding groin area was far less painful than yesterday, and the shave was a bloodless affair. Of course, medicating was as painful as it usually was.
But overall, it was a fantastic start to the day. I was expecting my beloved Nurse Hristina to call to take my blood. Apart from medicating the lesion, I naturally sang away as I launched the computer to finish yesterday’s blog.
I soon had the blog done and posted. (Still singing away to myself as I plodded on). I went on CorelDraw to prepare for up, loading the ten or so photographs I’d carefully taken. DANGKNANGLES! The Kodak camera had taken only two of the pictures! The first one had gone into the ether.
The second, the collated waste bag, was on the SD card. The card was in the camera; I recall taking it out and into the computer thingy, but there were no more shots! BUT NOTHING ELSE!
I went to check on the tiny inner file. Nothing was on it.
I retook some shots of the views, ensuring the card was back in the Kodak. I took several snaps. When I returned to upload it to the computer, nothing went through. Then, I noticed the camera did not light up when I put it on again. Stupid me!
Obviously, the batteries had died.
I put in new batteries and tried again. Nothing RIP to yet another camera!
Then, how did it take the second shot but not the first or those that followed? Was it all a part of the mysteries of the Woodthorpe Court’s Sinister Spirit’s master plan? To raise the devil, spread wonders, blunders, rodomontades, fears and descenders from the comfort of semi-sanity, with me almost in a good mood, into a gibbering wreck!
I spent hours trying to figure out what had gone wrong. I got six more batteries and replaced the first ones I had put in. No, there was no life! Then, I put two batteries into the torch, and they worked, eliminating the dead battery idea.
A break for my mind when Nurse Hristina arrived to take the blood. It’s lovely when she comes. ♥
Two caregivers, well the same Caregiver, came twice; Carer Chloe, one for medications, and one for domestic.
I settled for a photoless blog (All bar the one); I had no choice and insufficient cash yet to get a replacement. Depressed, dispirited and pissed off, I started doing today’s blog ode, then the top graphics.
I kept looking at the camera, thinking it must be something I’d done wrong. But it was a no-go every time I tried. And I tried so many times, sort of hoping!
At my lowest point, when I had the least interest in continuing the blog, it happened: Ailment number four kicked off. Flared up. My confidence faded, my depression got more profound, and the roaming chest pains settled in for about a solid five hours this afternoon, well into the early evening.
What a last three days I’ve had. The two tumbles on Sunday, thanks to the bleeding from the groin par, put the mockers on Monday. Tuesday and the Kodak broke my heart by packing up on me. And gives me hell. I suppose I could order a camera from Amazon… Ah, I did that last time, so I must have one somewhere that is battery-powered… A futile spurt of hope arose!
I searched everywhere without any joy in finding it. Slowly, it dawned on me that the camera had been dropped down the waste chute while I tried to take a shot of the tube inside when it was first fitted.
I’m going to get something to eat and think about my situation. I heated a part-baked long cob with tomatoes and Sopocka, using no butter, butter.
I changed my mind and looked at the cameras on Amazon. They were far too expensive. I’ll wait until my pension goes into the bank and how much there is before spending to get a better one. Or give up altogether.
This reminds me that I still can’t access the bank account until Warden Julie gives me all the details she kindly took to sort and print out for me.
The carer came and examined both cameras. He said they were both dead, but the cheap one may work if I recharge it. It’s possible that the connection was loose when I recharged it yesterday. So, I charged it again, ensuring the plugs were solidly in place and the blue recharging light lit up.
No medications were needed. He removed my socks, picked up a drink and nibble, and went home. Thanking him.
I was settled to watch TV when I remembered I had not eaten anything yet. I went through a hard battle against my desire for sleep and got up to make a meal. I got as far as the door, and in the dark, I could see the flashing blue charging light on the camera. So, that told me that the camera was fully charged when it failed. I took it off the charger and meandered into the kitchen, and after making my meal, I tried to take a photo of it. GOTTEN HIMMEL It Worked!
I tried again on the evening view… Wunderbar!!!
Note: The morrow morning, all pleased with myself, I used the miraculously working old camera again.
You will see the disastrous quality dip in the quality of the resulting pictures on Wednesday’s blog. I was very disappointed. I may get better results late in the day, but I think that is because I have more misled hope than faith.
Sir Keir and wife Victoria beam after bagging free £4000 Taylor Swift tickets: In summer 2023, Sir Keir was treated to a week in accommodation for four people in beauty spot the Gower Peninsula worth £4,500.
While planning his lies-ridden election triumph in July, Sir Keir welcomed many gifts and hospitality with open arms, including designer clothes, glasses, and tickets to several football matches. Keir and his wife, Ms Reeves and Rayner, also received donations for work outfits. In June, the deputy prime minister, Ms Rayner, received a £3,550 donation for work clothing from Lord Alli. Rachel Reeves £380k freebie and payments as she scrapped pensioners’ Winter Fuel Allowance.
In October 2023 and February 2024, he was given £10,000 and then £6,000 respectively from Lord Alli.
In April, Lord Ali gave Keir £16,200 for ‘Work Clothing’ £16,200.
Sir Keir has also received accommodation worth £20,437 between May 29 before the election and July 13 after the win.
Lord Alli treated Sir Keir’s wife, Victoria, to approximately £5K worth of clothes. The clothes are understood to have been at Lord Alli’s £18 million London penthouse, which would have cost £444 per night if he had stayed there daily.
Accommodation for four on the Gower Peninsula. Set up by Rod Lloyd. Value: £4.400.
Arsenal fan Sir Keir received tickets and hospitality totalling around £19,000 for twelve football matches from August 2023 to June this year, including nine when his beloved London Arsenal team was playing.
Sir Keir enjoyed a Taylor Swift concert in the Premier League. As for social events, Sir Keir was one of five Labour MPs who declared freebies at Taylor Swift concerts.
The Prime Minister declared the gift of four hospitality tickets from the Premier League to see the Shake It Off singer at Wembley Stadium in June, at an estimated value of £4,000.
Sir Keir also received four tickets to the Jingle Bell Ball with hospitality from Global Media and Entertainment Ltd. last December, worth £800.
In May, the National Theatre treated Keir to four tickets to see Nye worth £358.
The only freebie not accepted was a bottle of Vinegar from Nottingham blogger Inchy. Rejected when it was discovered it contained arsenic. Value: 49p
Sir Keir’s Football Freebies Since August 2023:
Crystal Palace Football Club – Three tickets with hospitality for Crystal Palace v Arsenal, valued at £2,142
Swansea City AFC – Five tickets with hospitality for Swansea City v Bournemouth, valued at £800
Cain International UK Services Ltd – Two tickets with hospitality to the Chelsea vs Arsenal football match, valued at £2,400
Teescraft Engineering Ltd – Four tickets with hospitality for Newcastle United v Arsenal, valued at £1,000
West Ham United Football Club – Two tickets for pre-match hospitality in the Chairperson Lounge and to the match, valued at £2,000 (estimated)
Norwich City Football Club – Four match tickets and hospitality, valued at £820
Premier League – Five tickets with hospitality to Arsenal vs Porto, value £3,000
Manchester City Football Club – Hospitality and match tickets for two people to Man City vs Arsenal, valued at £900.
Brighton and Hove Albion Football Club, four tickets and hospitality to Brighton vs Arsenal, valued at £500.
Wolverhampton Wanderers Football Club – Four tickets and hospitality to Arsenal vs Wolverhampton Wanderers value £1,488 (approximate)
Tottenham Hotspur Ltd – Five tickets and hospitality to Tottenham Hotspur vs Arsenal, value £2,500 (approx).
Manchester United: Two tickets in the Directors Box, with dining at Old Trafford. v Arsenal. Valued at £1800.
The only freebie rejected was a bottle of Vinegar offered by blogger Inchy. It was found to contain arsenic. Value 39p
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – TO BE OR NOT TO BE… To be or not to be beheaded… Be hung, poisoned or electrocuted,
Shot, walk the plank or be guillotined,
For you have killed, murdered…
The UK death penalty was abolished,
Life sentence, murderers are pleased,
After 3 years, many have been released,
Now, HMP workers are beleaguered,
Freeing killers just to save money,
I know it will lead to anarchy,
Murderers are just let free early,
To kill again, by HMG; approvingly!
They’ve tried things, therapeutically,
Chop off rapist choppers antiseptically,
Else, there’ll be disorder, catastrophe,
Pandemonium, bedlam, antipathy,
Course, this is only advisory…
Could we start with someone miserly?
By winter’s end, he’ll have killed so many,
I refer, to Pensioner-Killer Herr Starmer,
Who I hear wears a willie-warmer…
Keir will have murdered many a pensioner,
By the end of this freezing winter,
Drove to suicide many a farmer,
His defence? He’s caught habromania?
The man’s a shyster, & a proven liar,
I’m sorry if I sound like an inveigher,
We must get rid of this political vulture,
If we don’t stop him, he’ll kill more for sure,
I advise him to wear his Kevlar!
I’m a bit of transcendental augurer, But indications of the future for Starmer, It is vague & as confusing as Keir’s hylomania, It’s hard to read such a hornswoggler… I’ve been depressed so heretofore, Suddenly, I want to live longer… Long enough to see him go to the hereafter! – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – I returned to an imitation, pseudo-pretend life at 04:00hrs, with the regular springing awake and waiting for Diabetic Doreen to sort out my cerebrum and get that to work in a guise or manner that would allow me to realise that it was really 04:00hrs and work out what day it was. Then, I tackled the nocturnal catheter pouch disconnecting. Which was a more straightforward job this morning. Since I’d drifted off to sleep in the second-hand, c1968, eyesorely-horrendously grungy beige-coloured, £300, charity shop bought, crumb-retaining, microorganism-microbe producing, gungy, moth-eaten, non-working, bacillus encouraging, incommodious, Haemorrhoid Harold testing, c1968 recliner last night, and didn’t make it to the bed. Carer Chris, who did the last call last night. Christ got the large quilt from the bed and over me. He knew I would never get to the bed, he said, this morning. Apparently, I was in a seizure when he arrived. I was muttering, struggling to get words out, and not really with it. The lad’s reading me now that he knows about my ailments and how they sometimes affect me.
I grabbed and limped into the kitchen, with a sudden feeling from my EQ that I may have left the taps running, the fridge or freezer door open, or the oven on last night in my overtired slumber. EQ is rarely wrong. Sadly, he wasn’t this morning, either. Getting into that kitchen gave me more than one surprise this morning. First, the windows had iced up, the temperature was -5°c, and the freezer door had, as I feared, been left open! I had to throw away some of the partially defrosted food. On the bright side, less food went into the bin than when I left the freezer door ajar last time. (Two days ago) Tsk! For the outside of the window glass, I got some paper towelling and wiped it to see through it. And there, even for my eyes to see, high in the sky, was the Moon and two planets in view, Jupiter and Venus, if I remember correctly. Despite the freezing ice on my hands and in the air, I decided to get the Kodak to try and get a decent shot of the Moon and planets. These are the best of them to make it to the SD card. Four did not? I still can’t determine what I’m doing wrong to make so many photographs disappear. I looked into the internal photos on the camera, but they were not there. I could see the planets in every shot I took; I had my reading glasses on to see the screen on the Kodak camera. However, some, like the SD card, did not reach the end product again. Yet some did, turning up on the SD card. Was it instilled and installed by the mysteries of Woodthorpe Court, with the hobgoblins, spectres, gnomai, phantasms, ghosts, the grotesque succubae, extraterrestrials, ectoplasms, spirits, or the Fata Morganas that have been sent to taunt, irritate and terminate my already limited saneness of mind, which I’m already battling with Diabetic Doreen Dementia and Cogniscent Impairment Iris, to keep my marbles? Unglesitknangles!
I meandered to the wet room, returned to make sure I’d shut the freezer door after cleaning up, returned to the wet room, and deposited myself on the WC. Where I stayed for a while. Because an “It’ll come anytime now” type of sensation lingered for ages. All I managed to clear was several incontrollable blasts of wind. So, I gave up, despite that nagging doubt that it just may spurt of its own accord remained with me. I had a wash & shave, medicated various body parts in need, got fresh PPs on, and made up the waste bags. (The photo didn’t show on the SD card – Humph!)
Whatever happened to the day? Where did it go? I recall Carer Joanne coming, and we were having a laugh.
I know I had just a few of earlier, I thought I was in one when Joanne was here. But she said nothing. When we were both laughing at my struggle to get words out and forgetting what I was talking about, as we joked and laughed, I’m sure of it. Well… Later, while taking a break from the arduosity of getting the blog done, I checked the camera and a photo I knew nothing about until I viewed it, and it came back to me. Anyway, here it is. The frost and ice are still there, and at 1°c, I’m not surprised. The balcony door cracked as the ice fell off. Not looking too good.
I made a JS order for next week. Tried to keep it low, but as usual, I had to go over the £40 limit in case they had something out of stock. That puts me in line for a delivery charge.
Back on the blog, I realised that they were coming thick and fast. Some seemed to last only a few seconds, and I felt giddiness a few times between each one. But I coped with them in the morning without any real bother, which I find positive. When they first started hitting me, they fritted and unsettled me. Now, this change is getting me a smidge worried. I’ll phone 111 in the morning, no, on Monday, and ask for advice.
On a more positive note, tonight, my urine is a much better, lighter colour. It still stinks, though. I must get on with the blog. I’m taking too long on the odes or making them too long. Even two days ago, I worked on one until three in the morning. I can’t help it. I love doing them. Sad, because they’re not good.
The sun did come out today, as it was about to disappear over the horizon. The frost is now mostly melted, but not in the areas the sun did not reach. I thought at first that they looked like snow clouds. When Carer Chris came, I heated a steak pastie, told him it would soon snow, and showed him this picture of the clouds. He looked at his computer on his phone, and the weather forecast didn’t mention snow. So much for my humble and wrong predictions. Hahaha!
I continued with this blog. Amazingly, gave me rest after Chris had been and medicated me, had his nibble and a can of pop. It took him about ten seconds to see off the steak pastie. It was unexpected to him, and he enjoyed it so much. Which cheered me up, too.
I was not doing very well in the concentration stakes, then, aha, another summoning from the innards arrived; Get yourself to the wet room post haste! So I did just that. But it was all in vain again! I must have spent another half-hour on the Throne. Grunting as I tried my bestest to urge and encourage something to move… But no! For the second time today, Zilch moved. I’m hoping that by taking a prescription powder immediately, I shall have a third visit, which might be a success. Otherwise, especially after eating my meal later on, my innards may just blow up or explode!
I’m getting beyond the capability of concentration now. I shall maketh a meal. Blimey, the higher clouds have changed so much now. Still beautiful.
Meatless pork sausages, chestnuts, and tomatoes. Six slices of Milk Roll bread, one for each sausage, and a dip of BBQ Tomato ketchup. Two desserts: Lemon and custard and jelly.
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – BONUS STARMER BASHING ODE! Don’t let Starmer get you depressed, Despite pensioners he attacked, In free-clothes, he gets dressed, And the lies that he’s amassed, Starmer, being a backhander & biased… The farmers he has tax-bushwhacked, As PM, he should be uninstalled, The man is totally unscrupled, The Torie are beyond being annealed, Leaving Starmer with an open field… To do as he likes, unimpeded, At no.10, he’s firmly bivouacked, His lies & gift-taking have been obsignated, Surely he must now be prescited? – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – Farewell, & Look after Yourself. If farmer or pensioner cause… STARMER WON’T!
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – When I snuff it, will I get theosophy? Or be greeted by nothingness, dimly? I don’t ask these questions grimly, Will St Peter be there to greet me? Will I be sent to Heaven of Hell… Is there a difference? Who can tell? Will Hell be running a brothel…Does Does Heaven have a mosque or Chapel? What will they do to a dead infidel, Will I see Hitler or Oliver Cromwell, Will I still have a catheter bag or navel? Are Heaven & Hell both topological? Sometimes, I hope they will be real? Will they both be parallel or mutual? Will they serve tea, coffee or oenomel? Will we see Angels, anything celestial? Will we see relatives or a pet poodle? Grizelda, will we be able to canoodle? Get reborn to see another crepuscle? Will the St. Peters interview be conflictual? Have to go through a validity ritual? Have the same problems cardiological? Will Dementia still be in situ, cerebral? Arthur Itis, FND, PN be there? It’s credible, Will we at least resemble being corporeal? Will we be negative, nervous, or joyful? Whether Hell or Heaven, dying is awful, Being sent back to earth is too stressful!
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
Went to Kip late. Got up late again at 06:00hrs Nocturnal pouch removed.
I amalgamated three of the waste bags into one.
First-morning view from the kitchen. Not too good. I tried to get a decent shot of Devonshire Ave. I didn’t manage it. Tsk! Temp -3ºc.
Food Delivery. Sods, bread rolls, sausages & fresh peas. I had to empty the box of battered fish balls into the freezer to get them to fit in it!
The fridge is not as full this time, but still too full! I got some of the beef in gravy in a pouch again. Yeehaa!
A fine mix of fodder. Beef in stout gravy, sausages, pasties, tomatoes, frank’s, jacket and roasting potatoes, & jellies.
Carer Chris arrived. He did his thing and was about to put on the diabetic socks, but I stopped him and said I was going to do my ablutions and shower first. He told me he would make the next call and get the socks and catheter contraption replaced then. But he did not come! Luckily, Carer Joeanne did; she fitted the catheter and put my socks on for me.
In between , they were a bit more bothersome again, but they seemed to keep giving me little breaks now and then. How kind.
Over the next hour, I took three shots of the sky.
I was miles behind with the blogging but persevered, as any other young, athletic, fit, good-looking man would.
Sunsetting.
It’s getting late, dark, it’s getting colder…
Time for some fodder.
Beef in stout gravy, sausages, potatoes. Two cheesy bread rolls to soak up the gravy.
Washed up, and as I climbed 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’, Sweet Morpheus took me. A few minutes of bliss enveloped me…. not only that, but was noticeable by his absence! Then Carer Chris arrived to wake me up, gently mind. Without me moving, he put the nocturnal catheter bag on. Gave me the medication and seemed to drift off, like an angel back to the clouds. I had been drinking shandy after the meal, so I may have been mildly tipsy; I don’t know. More likely that I was under the influence of . It all felt surreal.
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – Life is like an avenue, Lined with hatred, little affettuoso, Filled with the unexpected blanscue, Daily selections of bugaboo… Oligarach rule, the financial hullaballo, Conning the proletariat & ingenue, Rulers rulings, decisions are impromptu.
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – TTFN, Best to all of you!
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – I may be depressed & flat bound,
Perhaps I ought to be in a compound,
Doreen Dementia gives me the runaround,
And how little do you get for a pound?
Starmer is seeking self-wealth,
Rather like a bloodhound,
Me? I’d like some good health,
There’s more I’d like to expound,
I feel like I’m disallowed & disavowed,
Forcefully repudiated, denied, disowned,
Life used to be a playground,
Now, it’s a survival-free battleground,
Oligarchs & criminals seem to abound,
Animals like Starmer got empowered…
I need 2 hours to get shaved & showered!
My hopes are flattered & floundered,
I get worn out after I’ve hoovered,
I’m mentally & physically encumbered,
Rotting teeth, angina, bald-headed… My common sense long ago defected,
Violence and wars cannot be reined,
What’s more, I can’t get my TV started?
Starmer should be helped, assisted…
He should be airfreighted…
Go to Rwanda and get bayonetted!
Not fatally, just a painfully bloodied…
Come back and be treated by the NHS! – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
ANOTHER BUST DAY It’d be about 0550hrs when I blossomed cheerfully, gaily, bursting into song, leapt out of bed, did a few hundred press-ups in the freezing balcony, and waved at the seagulls. I’d turned back into the fun-loving, delicate, humorous, beguiling young man I am. Oh, alright then, I didn’t. 0550hrs: woke me up, and I passed a mammoth blast of wind from my rear-end and detached the from the day bag. I did a pretend imitation job of tidying the bed and took the BP readings. It was a Normal-High reading this morning. Yesterday, I had a ‘Hyper’ result. But that’s not so unusual. I often get one or two a week, and it usually bounces down again.
I grabbed , and went in the kitchen. What a fantastic hue the morning view offered me. I was, to me, more green than black of blue. The clouds seemed larger this time.
The intercom sounded as I was about to get the kettle on the boil. I realised then that I had an Asda order coming today. And so it was. I gingerly gathered the boxes and carriers I used to put the food into at delivery. I opened the door, and the driver seemed agreeable to putting the things in boxes and bags for me; bless him. As I took a carrier to put down the hallway… ailment number nine gave way. I tumbled to my right side, catching my nose against the corner of the wall. I don’t know how he did it, but the driver was through the door and prevented me from falling in a flash. A Hero! I’ve tried to get to the Asda site four times to offer my appreciation. All failed!
I got the food & cleaning things put away. Taking a couple of photos as I went along. The first one on the right shows fresh cream strawberry jam French Horns. Naughty, but so nice! The second snap shows potato cakes, cheesy potato balls, green tomato and onion pickled, and water chestnuts. I will try to home-pickle the chestnuts and some of the mushrooms tomorrow. I also got a can of lip balm for my cracked lip, saving the day again later. I like a Mystery, Hehehe! I stored the cleaners away and decided not to have a mug of tea but to get my ablutions done. I got the needed clothing and poddled off to the wet room. No Throne yet! I started with the fingernails, then got the shaving done. As far as I could tell, I was breaking a record here; a second morning of a cutless shave… I thought! As I started the body wash, I felt the blood running down my lips and mouth. I looked in the shaving mirror, and a thin, tiny trickle of the red stuff flowed from my nostrils! It seemed the leak point was slightly up inside my nose. Now, I could not even get the razor up there. It never poured but came persistently for one and a half hours. Getting dressed and doing the body parts medicationings was interrupted by me having to keep dabbing at the blood. I wondered if I had done it when taking the tumble on the corner of the wall. I’ll never know. Hahaha! Better to go into a and claim a victory in getting no shaving cuts for two days! I moved into Level Two. Hehe! Finished the medicating and got the PPs & clothing on, not without some bother and a little pain.
Finally, I got onto the computer. Only to find that my memory and concentration had gone to pot when I started writing on the day’s ode. This was a little disconcerting, to say the least. Carer Chloe arrived as the nose began bleeding again, not that it mattered at all; I wasn’t getting anywhere with it anyway. Humph & Granknangles!
Carer Chloe was concerned about my bleeding nose. She looked closely at it and asked if I had Vaseline to put on it. Then I remembered the Vaseline lip balm that had been delivered this morning. I got it from the drawer and put some on my nose and lips. The blood flow did decrease. Clever gal, Chloe! ♥ Chloe departed, saying she was coming back on a domestic call. I thanked her and bade her well.
I’m not doing well with my Ode here, so I went on CorelDraw to catch up on the photos. I was struggling. At one time, I thought the near tumble might have been caused by a reaction. Concentrating was so hard, and I guess the ode would not come out so well this time.
I’m assuming that came over me. Or, it’s possible I fell asleep… No, no, that’s impossible, come think of it. Because when I came back, a fair bit had been done on this blog. Enough for it to have taken me a couple of hours to get done. Teo hours had evaporated, and it took ages to do the amending and correcting the bloopers & mistakes made. I had a break and glass of lemonade, emptied the day pouch, and took two photos from the blooming cold balcony. The mudslide in the far car park was a lot smaller now. And one of the sky to the West and Wales. The clouds colouring rather impressed me. Chloe returned. Then I realised that the nose had stopped running altogether, thanks to Chloe. We decided what needed doing flatwork-wise, and she made a start. I think I kept talking to her, but what about is not available to Doreen Dementias’s memory now. Ah, I’ll check on the memory notepad. No, nothing was readable, and not much was on the pad. Tsk!
After Chloe had gone, they started again, but they were all really short, as far as I can tell. Offputting but copable within the safety of being indoors.
I tried out the microwave roast potato bag for the first time. I just put in one bag… no, one potato. Mind you, I also only put it in one bag. I think I nearly lost the plot, theme and my sanity there! Hurrmph!
I was working hard on this blog. I’m using this work too often, but I am struggling. I was going at it while the seizures were taking a break and suddenly noticed that the sunset was about to disappear, so I got the Kodak.
Beautiful! I was awestruck. What lovely nature… Did my best, and for once, they came decent.
Carer Chris arrived. Medications were given.
We had a chat, he had a drink & nibble. Haha!
An hour or so later. I decided to try out the oven potato bag for the microwave. Oh, dear, the writing on the bag made me nervous, well, reading it did. I’ve copied it here: WARNING
CONTENTS AND BAG MAY BE HOT – USE CAUTION
READ INSTRUCTION GUIDE CAREFULLY BEFORE USE.
IMPROPER USE MAY RESULT IN FIRE-MICROWAVE ONLY DO NOT use in conventional oven. DO NOT Microwave for more than 3 minutes at a time. DO NOT heat on high DO NOT do not use in microwave xithout food DO NOT do not expose to naked flame DO NOT leave microwave unattended during use DO NOT do not place Potato Express™ near a hot surface DO NOT do not cook oily or fried foods Use only normal-sized potatoes!
I was scared stiff to use it! Photo during cooking.
I PUT ONE LARGE POTATO IN.
What is a normal-sized potato?
Cooked it for 4 minutes – rock hard.
Gave it another 4-minutes. hard
Then, another minute.
Then, another minute.
And it still wasn’t ready. I gave up and had a bag of crisps!
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – WHAT A VIEW! I stayed looking at this scene for a few minutes. I was so engrossed just viewing it, I didn’t realise I was getting rained on. You just have to see the funny side. Hahaha! – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – Going to phone the Doctor in the morning about these seizures. I told her the first time they appeared, and I was more or less told that many people with FND and PN have them. I felt guilty taking up her time.
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – My biggest current hated one is Starmer,
Prospective murderer of every pensioner…
Over-taxing every single farmer,
Our UK leader, food shortage creator,
Labour Party standards & morals abolisher,
Lady Starmer shops at Harrods, not Asda,
He’s started the UK exodus, the diaspora,
Couldn’t give a toss about the poorer,
I’d love to kick him in his detrusor!
He’s a deceitful and clever truth-denier
A freebooter, ever seeking a backhander,
An out-of-order denunciator,
His talks are klutzier, a send-to-sleeper!
Blaming others for his faults, a derogator,
He thinks he’s superior, an exemplar…
A political King, a Simon Templar,
Listening to him yak, installs longueur,
Starmer’s budget was a villain’s charter,
I believe he’s infected with Cherophobia…
Except when taking a political sweetener,
He’s no vivifier but often a vilifier!
Not a captivator, more a verbal chloroformer,
The best manipulative political by-omission liar!
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
I woke up with the regulation jerk and jump. I got on the side of the hospital bed and tackled, freeing the nocturnal pouch from the day bag. Carer Kimberly told me it was 6 on the NHS Richter scale card. Then I looked at the clock, seeing it was only 0350 hrs. I pondered getting back into bed, but the innards started rumbling and grumbling at that moment.
So, I rose to hobble to the wet room, quite carefully at first, as she was a little delicate, and I feared she may give way in me. This thought was forgotten as soon as I’d thought of it! The rear-end motion began to move of its own accord! . And I hobbled at my best attainable rate to the wet room… I didn’t make it in time. . I don’t need to go into any detail, do I?
20 minutes later, I cleaned up the mess, sprayed the room with air freshener and went out of the wet room door… I hit the door frame with my right shoulder as gave way. Perfect timing from Carole. Kicked off, naturally. But physically, I am used to this happening. Mentally, I get annoyed and angry, especially following the automatic-style evacuation.
Making it worse, I had to put on the bulky protection pants in case it happened again. Tchah!
To the kitchen to make a brew of tea. Why should this calm me down? I don’t understand, but many folks do the same.
I saw the snow through the kitchenette window. The photo did not come out well. So I bravely went out onto the balcony to take more pictures of the state of the roads. Starting with the front car park.
Then I opened the left end window to take this shot on the left of the car park further along Chestnut Way Finally, through the right end window of the end car park. After trapping my finger and closing the window, I wondered how many I’d had until now. I think I’d only been up for an hour; what else is in store for me? Hehehe!
I’d let the tea go cold, so I made a fresh brew of Glengettie tea. I took it to the main junk room and to the computer thingy.
Adjusted my relic of a clock calendar’s day and date. And a real rarity here… I dunked four of my favourite cookies in the tea without any of the biscuits getting dropped.
Seconds later… , . I knocked the tea mug off the desk, dropping it into the waste bin.
Surely this farce can’t go on any further? Still, getting them out of the way early in the day is best.
So, I cleaned it up and then collated the waste bins into one bag. And with no further calamities, mishaps, or !
Kicked off within minutes of me getting on with the blog. Thankfully, they were short, but so many of them over the next four hours.
Carer Shaq arrived. He had an inkling that I was not right, although I don’t think I had any when he was here. I did tell him later about them, though. He sorted the medications and adorned me with diabetic socks. We had a natter, but what about is anyone’s guess.
I went back to blogging and continued. I felt I was working well, but of course I wasn’t. Each time I returned to mock-life, I checked what had been done while I was in La-La Land, finding errors every time. Thus, it took me far too long to get it done. But I got there eventually.
I stopped to take some more pictures of the weather-bashed view. This was of the bottom field below the tree copse. Some kids had gotten plastic sleighs out and were having fun. I got the Kodak out when I saw the kids, but they had gone by the time I returned to the window. (Is this Possibly an unnoticed seizure?) No wonder I’m concerned about taking a bus and walking in traffic. Being housebound—well, flatbound—benefits someone in my condition. Haha! I made another brew of tea, Co-op 99, this time. Since it looked like just past 2 p.m. on the clock, I resisted any biscuits.
I grafted on with this blog, but I’m not getting very far very quickly, even though the frequency has slightly decreased. Anyway, the things I noticed after the event were all short-term affairs, which suits me.
I made yet another brew, Glengettie, this time. But I left it to mash for a few minutes and forgot about it. Harrumph!
Carer Kimberley called. She kindly put some cream on my bleeding lips and nose. I had not noticed. It’s not unusual for the pain from cracked lips and gums or for other pains, but I didn’t realise how much they were bleeding. Bless Her ♥. The £599.00 /100 ml Toothache pain relief spray is so effective. Thankfully, I still have some in-store to use, and I use them.
Blimey, I saw the fog descending as I returned the mug to the kitchenette. There had been cold winds, a bit of rain, then snow, and the fog was coming on. Almost eyra looking. As I write this, I just glanced at the balcony, and the fog is even thicker now. Mind you, I think I’m getting thicker—physically and mentally.
Hello, is having a go at me now. A persistent little Madam as well.
Long, well, massive periods of Mind-Blanks.
Scary that I did not know what had happened for hours.
I’ll see what fodder in the fridge and freezer can attract me to my earlier-than-usual desire for food.
The fish in batter appealed. But with frequent momentary visits from , I had the nonce not to risk fancy cooking. But I fancied these battered fish, so I risked cooking them in the mini-oven, making sure that I was doing nothing else so I could concentrate and not move from the kitchen all the time they were cooking, and I checked on them all the time. I was then aware of burn and fire risk limitations.
I ate all these without any bread—just some peas—and they were enjoyed immensely. I cleared and cleaned up. Then, I settled into the itch-creating, bruise-giving, catheter-tube-tugging, crumb-decorated from my nocturnal nibbling, God-awfully uncomfortable, cringingly grotty, no longer working, dirty beige, anti-sleep designed, c1966, second-hand bought for £300 ten years ago from the charity shop, recliner, and turned on the Liberty-Global Virgin Media TV.
I tried to put on the Oligarch’s Fibre rediculously exspensive full-of-repeats Virgin Media TV. But it would not let me. No Signal came up about 2000 times in response to pressing the button. So I gave up. I was getting weary of this.
Despite Dizzy Dennis, & Confusion Konrad, Tired-Out-Inchy won the battle and drifted off to sleep.
Carer Richard woke me up to make the last call of the day. I was in the right state! Mumbling and knowing I was doing so this time. I fear things did not go well. I’ve no idea why.
Richard departed, and I floated back into heavenly sleep. Just a few moments of waking up, I blissfully returned to the land of nod each time.
