– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
I escaped my flat, my three-roomed home,
First, I took my morphine and prednisolone,
An adventure to get out, though all alone,
Tried to identify each smell, each pheromone,
The tree copse, cooking food and cannabis,
I smelt the gloom, & people’s armpits,
Watched the dogs sniffing out bitches oestrone,
Sick on the pavement, looking like zabaglione,
In the distance, I thought I heard an altoist…
Then, I lost grip of my walking stick,
Took a tumble, realised I was not autarkic,
The Warden came over, and that did the trick.
She got me up again, back in the flat in a tick,
I sat and thought about Starmer…
Not a pleasant pondering on a wanker,
The PM, a backhander-taking free banqueter,
I, a tea & biscuit-dunker, he? Drunker!
He is an oligarch, I am a robbed pensioner,
But I didn’t get any angrier…
Cause the valve dropped off my catheter,
These things have happened before,
Anne Gyna, the ever-leaking oedema,
The nurse will be calling. Bless her,
Today, or the day after,
Clean, cream the legs, and replaster.
All the best to Starmer, the bloodsucker,
I’ve an appointment; Doctor of Neurology,
But that’s not until next November, you see,
My Doctor told them it was an emergency,
I’ve another urgent one waiting for me…
Glaucoma, been waiting since 2023,
I suppose this sounds as if I’m sorry?
Sorry for myself, pathetically?
I guess I may be anti-aristocracy?
They can afford private treatment, medically,
Murderers in jail get treated quicker than Inchy!
I put it down to jealousy, basically,
Worst of all, No Carer Joe, to look after Gerry!
Boosting my ego, caring carefully…
Always a smile, ever helpingly…
My depression depths now? Acceleratingly! – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
I feel so low today Sorry, it is how I feel Help is not easy to find Losing Carer Joe stinks An infected brain rules how I think
I have to question my mind.
Confused most of the time
Now, depressed, all the time.
If there are any prospects of help…
I can’t see them. Sorry. – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – Better
Morning view
Legs on waking were looking much calmer. This would not last, of course.
Erm… can’t remember taking this, or why?
Carer Elaz snapped the top of my head.
Then the hand injury. He put cream on both of them and then on my feet for me. Not too bad later.
Food arrived. No-butter butter spreadable. Regular tomatoes, Milk Roll loaf, Silesian sausages, Polish sausages, cheesy topped bread rolls. Fish sticks, and three Tiger Tomatoes. These might taste good.
Fridge not overfull! Nurses & Carer shelves.
Carer Joe made his last ever call.
What a Priceless Man. He sorted out the online banking again. Bless his cotton socks!
Green/brown tomato sliced and put in the no-butter buttered wholemeal rolls. Two Sileasian sausages, red spring onions, beetroot and some beans. I seem to have run out of peas. Gorgeous flavour!
Sorry, but tomorrow will be a busy day for me, and I’ll have to cope with more than one caller at the same time. I fear most of them.
British Gas is installing a Smart Meter and will need to turn off the power. Doing so will kill the emergency Panic Alarm, landlines, internet and TV. Plus the fridge and freezer. I have no idea how to get them back on. A genuine worry. So, a blog for tomorrow is doubtful in terms of time. The chances are that I won’t be able to use the phones, alarms, computer, stove, hot water, door, or intercom after they’ve been cut off to fit the Smart Meter, which I’ve never wanted anyway due to my arithmaphobia. Do I seem worried? That’s because I am, and with no Carer Joe to help me sort things.
UPS: Sent an email about a parcel being delivered tomorrow between 09:15 and 12:05 hours.
The nurse is due to clean and remediate, and replaster Lymphoedema Leslie’s bloated, leaking feet and legs.
The Neurology Surgeon’s assistant is to contact me on the landline to discuss the chosen procedure. Twixt 09:30 & 11:00hrs.
Precious is calling to fetch the Kaftans for hand washing, bless her.
There is a chance that the DVT Nurse will be taking blood for the Warfarin INR level testing.
The Community Nurses are due to take out the Cathy Catheter Contraption and replace it. (Shudder!)
How many will arrive at the same time is anyone’s guess, but with my luck, I’ll get all confused and forget all that people tell me.
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – AS I TYPED INSTANT MEMORIES… Starting with Nelson Cigarettes, I stopped smoking when they went up to 3/6!
Packs of ten, up to 1/9d, I went to the chemist,
To get something, to stem my baccy addiction,
Lozenges & tablets cost me a fortune!
I’d run out of them by later that afternoon,
Polo mints were cheaper, so I bought a carton,
A week later, off to the dentist in Carlton,
I still needed to stop my baccie attraction…
I overate and increased my aggression,
For unknown reasons, I suffered constipation,
Alcohol was not an acceptable substitution,
I tried nibbling carrots, dipped in vinegar,
My skin went Orange, the doc called it carotenemia,
It took me yonks to beat my addiction,
I could take months was the Doctor’s prediction,
Offering me tablets, a sort of antidepressant,
The pangs eventually lessened,
I was again feeling benignant,
Regained control, became again complaisant,
But it cost me my body, growing so corpulent!
STUCK IN THE LIFT ON A SUNDAY!
It could happen to anyone, any day,
This day it was the turn of Inchy…
He pressed the alarm button quickly,
Noticed his catheter bag filling promptly,
He hoped the engineer would get there speedily,
His innards rumbled; his bowels may self-empty!
The lift cage shook as it inched up, jerkily…
T’was the fire Brigade, his mobile did tinkle
The voice sounded like he was using a swozzle,
His hearing aid batteries died. What a muddle!
Heard nothing, but thought I might be in trouble,
Instructions being given were inscrutable,
And his catheter bag was now so very, very full!
The inching the lift up, at this rate, it would be April…
Before I’d be rescued, thinking irrationally, silly,
Hours later came the shaming… it was terrible,
They got the lift door open, 2ft of space available,
To physically pull my mass up, all they could do,
Then leant in, and dragged me up and through…
To the flat I almost flew,
Emptied the catheter, what a phoo!
Trotsky Terence’s evacuation, which was well overdue,
Needed to thank whoever lifted me out of the lift, though,
Nice chap, his name was Angelino. – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – I was busier overnight than I’ve been in years. I think I addressed this in the last blog; I nearly bored you with more of the same. Phew! The amount of sleep I got is easy-peasy to work out. Zilch, None, Zero, Ninguno, Keiner, Dim, Nessuno!
Falling to sleep now! Huh!
Decent colour
What an ablutioning and medicalisationing visitation this morning. Go wrongable? It did! Huh! I got some soapy, disinfected water in the bowl without any . Then the need for the Porcelain Throne arrived in a bit of a hurry… !!! A controlled evacuation, which exited at the speed of a torpedo, followed by the usual splurty detritus. Cleaning it up with all the bending needed gave new life & vigour to and. It also took me that long to clean up, so that the water in the bowl had gone cold. No problem, you say? Just empty it and refill it, you say? Well, it was for me! I made a right mess dropping the bowl as I was tipping it into the sink. I didn’t clean it up; my EQ told me not to bother. As I was refilling it with a jug from the sink tap, the jug shot out of my neurotic grip and joined the cold, disinfected water on the floor! Of course, I just laughed this off and tucked into the painful job of mopping up and drying the floor and mats. (Huh!) Then, refilled the bowl with the same things and started to have a shave. (Yes, the blood flowed freely, but not voraciously!) Then, the door chime rang out, and Carer Manpreet came in. There I was, starkus, with blood streaming down my head… I had to ask Manpreet to pass me a pair of PPs as I’d run out of them in the wet room. Which she did. I was given the medications, and Manpreet cleaned the wound on my right hand where I’d trapped it in a kitchen drawer the other day. The feet seemed a lot less filled with oemeba fluids, but they soon refilled again as the day went on… and on, and on. I may not sound happy this morning, there are a few reasons for that. Losing Carer Joe, being the main one. As soon as Manpreet departed, I scurried back into the wet room to continue finishing the shaving. Of course , the water for washing the feet had gone cold again!
As is my way, I carefully emptied the bowl and refilled it without incident.
I knew I shouldn’t have fallen into a state of smugness. As I began to finish shaving, I’d forgotten about the cuts earlier and swiftly added to the total. Which, as Carer Manpreet had said earlier, added to about twelve. Not now, it’s now sixteen, as far as I can gather. These, along with the three in gash from the other day, make me want to take the advice of Tim Price, and go ‘caveman!’
To the medication of the body’s various departments in need. I started with what I would usually leave till last. Little Inchies fungal lesion ointmentating. I was trying to be careful with the dropper… but dropped it! What a Plonker! It is only a tiny bottle, but all the liquid flowed away on the floor before I could get down to retrieve it… Banging my hand wound on the corner of the floor cabinet! I wiped it and put some Germolene on the thenar space this time, with a plaster. A good job; I keep some medications in stock for emergencies, just in case of any accidental injuries, falls, or walking into a door. Tsk!
Then they were cleaned, creamed and treated.
As far as here, and could do nothing for hours. Made infinitely worse because each bout from brought me back to semi-reality. And I couldn’t concentrate enough to do anything!
It was nearly going bonkers. I may have had a few times when returning to life, recovery took longer each time. Late in the night, the Seizures faded.
I made a meal ASAP in case the seizures returned.
MEAT FEAST TONIGHT
Carer Mizra came as I was washing the pots.
This evening view caught his eye.
I settled in after washing the pots and sat in the second-hand, charity shop-bought recliner that was £300, broken down, with a catheter tube crunching, dried blood-covered, grotty, dirty, and creaking frame, and fell asleep while watching the box. I stayed in it, as the Seizures and Colin Cramps had not bothered me, and might do if I got up to climb into the bed: Cunning, eh?
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – Off to the wet room for a wash and an ablution, The Porcelain Throne movement was liquidy… I went to get my anti-diuretic medication, Opening the drawer, it was a little sticky… Which held medicines non-prescription, Taking the box, I went a little dizzy, Got myself in some confusion, Trapped my hand, getting a contusion, A scratch, a bruise, a tiny abrasion, Carer Manpreet put on some cream, And I began to think and dream… Of the world’s upcoming desolation, Will Hell or Heaven be awaiting…
Which will lambast us for self-annihilating?
Will we see Heaven or Hell’s disintegration?
117 billion people have lived on this Earth,
That’s a lot of dead souls. Which were worthy?
How did they get through the gates so pearly?
Adam & Eve, they must have arrived early?
Are their souls with mammoths & anacondas?
Will the Grim Reaper take souls from Pure Cremation?
Are the Reapers from the unknown Hell or Heaven?
Hell’s interviewers assess your suitability for entry?
Oligarchs, Hitler, Stalin, Putin, Trump, & Göring get there?
Along with Starmer & Blair, the backhander taking pair,
Oligarchs, they’ll take over Hell’s agenda,
But we who are currently breathing air…
Will never know if anyone is out there!
I know it was pointless being a Brexiteer,
But the end commeth, but no need to fear!
Although at first, things will seem a little queer…
No body, brain, cataracts, no mouth to drink beer,
No sight, hearing, or need for ablutional passing,
No murdering, wars, revolutions or farting,
Nothing to need fearing, authorising or appraising,
You may not even know, after passing…
No more eating, washing, or inequality,
Rent, electricity, or food prices are rising!
No appealling bodies, for wanting or screwing,
No hours lost constipating,
No corrupting, counterfeiting, courting, or coveting, Canyoneering, chauffeuring, or cheering,
Women, no childbearing, catering, or censoring,
No cleaning, coiffuring, nail polishing,
Or anyone to give a bollocking tongue-lashing!
Aristotle said we may still be dreaming.
I think life may have been spent part-time musing,
While waiting for the inevitable ending?
Still, this is not a sad message that I’m sending,
I’d love to know if this thought is trending,
Hopefully, peace will flow, even if we don’t know…
And nothing worth commemorating!
One final thing that I would like to mention…
Ask a friend, neighbour or relation… To check you’re dead before your cremation! – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – Not up to much today. Although having said that, as much as I struggled to get the Ode done, and it took me hours, I still managed to glean some pleasure out of it. I’ve got to cope without Carer Joe now. Well, I say that, he has got a call on Monday, sadly, it will be his last one. I’m scared and worried about how I’ll cope without him. He’s saved the day so many times for me, often several times a week! My fear is getting at me. I can’t help it.
The nocturnal pouch is still attached and shows the red foot, not the white one. Hehe! At least the oedema swelling on top[ of both feet had died down a little while I’d got my feet up. I fell asleep early, but woke up and got up in a semi-confused state, suspecting I’d just had a seizure. Judging by my concentration and balance, they are all over the place.
Took this view from the kitchenette. I then decided to sit down, as my balance was not good, and spent hours updating yesterday’s blog.
Carer Mampreet arrived. She administered the medications and applied some cream to the hand wound and the tops of the feet, which were filling up with liquid again. Then she Germolened the shaving scar on the back of my neck. Bless her! Manpreet took this photo of a hand-wound for me. She used the barrier cream. The photo used in the Ode, the very poor, out-of-balance one, I took earlier. When Shaking Shaun was visiting me.
Back onto the computer and made a dubious start on this blog. Creating the graphics, despite CorelDRAW warning me that it would need to be updated to save any work to the new version. Somehow, I managed to get it to work. I cannot recall what I did, I just pray I can do it again in the morning session. A call from Carer Joe would have been invaluable!
I went to make a mug of tea, my first one of the day. And, I’d been up for nearly five hours already. I’ll pay for this later on, big time.
The Iceland stores order arrived. The driver kindly put them in a line, blocking the doorway, so I could move one at a time. I took some pictures of the food bits, but without the SD card in the camera. Humph! Obtaining the photo of the carriers is another aspect of the mysteries of Woodthorpe Court, which also includes hobgoblins, spectres, gnomes, phantoms, grotesque succubi, extraterrestrials, ectoplasm, and spirits. Receptive Aphasia Phyllis, Paroxysmal dyskinesia, Episodic ataxia, Ménière’s disease, Dark, Deep, Depressing Duncan, Peripheral Neuropathy Pete, Nicodemus Neurotransmitters Dying, Glaucoma Gladys, Stuttering Stephany, Lymphorrhea Leslie, Premordid Cognitive Impairment Inchie, or the Fata Morganas that have been sent to taunt, irritate and terminate my already limited saneness of mind. My faith, sanity, concentration, and logicality were already well on the wane.
The tea had gone cold, so I hobbled to the kitchen to make another brew of Co-Op 99 tea. Taking the above snap of my feet & legs, I noticed that they were even more pronouncedly white on the left and red on the right. The oedema fluid had filled the top and bottom of the right foot, making walking more difficult again. Oh, and painful too!
Made a brew and back to the blogging.
Started making Templates for July.
I assume it was, anyway, that kept blurring my eyesight so much that I had to give up on blogging. These ‘Blur’ periods have been lasting for a few minutes at most, then the vision clears again. Not this time; I was still struggling when making the meal, after switching to reading glasses.
Making and prepping the meal was spoiled and harassed by the arrival of . I dropped the knife three times. Slicing the tomatoes resulted in a cut on a fingernail. Burnt my hand, right on the wound from trapping it in the drawer. Finally, I got it made up, photographed it, and settled down to eat it. Which was another farce. Showed up, and the tray plopped onto the floor, distributing various parts of the meal on the carpet! I discovered a partially eaten piece of sausage on the ottoman in the morning.
I salvaged some of it and still enjoyed it.
The cleaning up of the mess after dining was not appreciated at all. , , , , and were amongst the ailments that were displeased with all the bending down I had to do. Only the innards that had just had their hunger satisfied didn’t complain. I was in such agony in so many areas of my body.
As I climbed into the hospital bed, there were so many aches and twinges, then (Hah!), joined in the onslaught!
It took me hours to fall asleep. The primary reason is the pain, obviously. But these were exacerbated by and that I had to get out of bed so often. As I recall, to check that the taps were not left running? Had I locked the flat door? Then I realised that I’d forgot to ask the Carer to fit the nocturnal catheter bag. The fight to get out of bed and the bending down again to find and fit the night bag prompted her to increase the level and potency of her attacks. I had to get up about five times from the hospital bed. Each one was painful, especially under the feet, as I had to walk on the Oedema fluid-filled feet. I gave up, and got into the c1968, tatty, scruffy, unkempt, uncomfortable, virus, microorganism, bug, bacterium, bacillus, germ, parasite producing, eyesore-horrendously grungy, disease-fermenting second-hand, beige-coloured, £300, second-hand charity shop bought, crumb-retaining, moth-eaten, non-working, itch-encouraging, incommodious, Haemorrhoid Harold testing, catheter tube yanking, recliner. Thankfully, I had taken a rest, but I was replaced with worrying about how I’m going to manage without Carer Joe.
Sleep turned into a fantasy. I sat there and stewed in my pathetic self-pity, until my leg fell off the chair my feet were resting on, to ease the Oedema problem. That extra bit of pain was enough for to come overhead, and sink into my psyche. So, virtually no sleep. 05:30hrs: Somehow, I forced myself up to start the day with a gloom that had never been with me before. And the Whoopsies began again…
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – I CAN DO WITHOUT DAYS LIKE THIS!
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – Horrible, cruel, and what will happen if they do catch them? They can get their drugs more easily and cheaper in Nottingham prison. I heard nothing about the police catching the group of women who were using drones to deliver various drugs to appointed areas within the prison last month. They’ll have no electricity, rent, or food to pay for. No laundry to do, they might have a little housework or Pokey cleaning. They are assured full NHS treatments for free. Their Christmas dinner will not be like mine, and I’ll have to cook it, clean up, and remember not to leave the oven or water tap running. Don’t you go thinking that I’m sulking, pissed-off with the legal system and HMG… I am, though. These scum youths, cowardly attacking an eighty year old woman in broad daylight! Uncaring, feral beasts! – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – I once met a man who was a Ku Klux Klan Klokard,
He now felt guilt, and he self-jugulated,
That result was, to me, a bit of a bonsella,
All this namby-pambying is bilgewater,
If they can’t do the time, they shouldn’t do the crime,
23 murders in the UK in 2003,
48 Murders in the UK in 2013,
An MP who is obviously addlebrained,
A backhand taker and a fibber,
I’d like to know why?
I know we are all going to die,
But who is to blame, who is guilty?
Who started humankind?
Allah? God? The universe corrupted?
Have aliens already communicated?
Have invaders visited and then vacated?
We’ve all whispered, wittered, wondered, whimpered,
Why is life so complicated?
Why will peace never be accoutred?
Crime, war, has never been abrogated,
Will Earth end up with anoxia?
This Ode tells you, I’ve got aprosexia…
When all I seek is ataraxia,
Many icons, claiming to be the arbiter,
Too many humans = appropinquity,
Politicians claimed to act abstemiously,
Make & take decisions clearheadedly,
They actually tried to act decently!
Although none of that recently…
Starmer, Putin, Trump? Are they crazy?
Wannabe dictators, increasingly?
From which the World can only be free…
After the apocalyptic catastrophe,
But that’s no good for you and me,
Even to anyone, including the Oligarchy,
We must stop animosity, enmity, hostility…
Criminality, jealousy, greed, and animosity…
Says Inchie, shrugging his shoulders abjectly! – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
I don’t say this very often, but this morning went pretty smoothly… it didn’t last long. It was helpful having two visits from Carer Joe, who will not be calling again this weekend, Saturday or Sunday, and his last day will be on Monday. I am deeply heartbroken. I’ve never known such a willing and genuinely caring Carer from this company.
I’m going to struggle with all the things the lad willingly helped me out with. Every day that he called. But he can’t be blamed.
This is the bad news I wanted to tell you.
I left the tap on again. I walked into the wetroom door (Semi shoulder-charged it, Haha!)
Found that the butter, a pack of sausages (Not Hostages), just in case Winter Fuel Payment stealer, Herr Starmer, does read my blog. He really ought to, it’d give him an idea of how hated he is, and it might remind him of his dishonesty, & lies…
Where was I? Oh, yes, the food; Butter, sausages, a jar of beetroot, a pot of… no, two pots of yoghourts, all out of date. Threw them out.
Then I had to make a food order to replace them.
Today is my saddest day in years!
The nurse came to change the pad on my leg. A lovely lady. Pointed out the I’d I’d got on the back of my neck, about 3 inches long. Told me to be careful when washing or shaving. The oedema in the feet was a concern. But the leg was doing well. I had one red and one white foot at the same time!
Carer Ejaz did the first call. Barrier creamed the hand wound for me. The mini seizures kicked off. Concentration was all but disabled with having so many recoveries to make in a short time. This is the first photo of the view taken earlier. After taking it, I burnt a finger, spilling the hot water from the kettle when Shaking-Shaun visited. I made a start on this blog. Not too successfully so far, but I pressed on nonetheless. Which was a bloody daft thing to do.
I paid for it with the seizures, or rather, the recovery from these Shortie-Seizures. Not so easy today, and took far longer each time. Shorty-Seizures, I like that terminology; I’ll patent it. Hehe!
Sister Jane rang me and managed a little natter. That was nice, I enjoyed it, despite not being in a good mood thanks to the feared, fed-up, and gloomy g of .
Not to mention all the other problems, mental and physical, that somehow seem so much keener, cruel, and almost soul-destroying.
Plenty of sunshine today. But I dare not go out in it. The heat would make my oedema worse, and possibly blind me.
Waiting for the last Carer call now, Ejaz, I think I’ll get some sandwiches made up… Oh no, I won’t!
I’ve no bread left, which went out with the other foods to the waste chute. Even if I had any, I’ve no butter to put on them. Sausages with some crisps seem the easiest option until food arrives in the morning. I’ve got some potatoes in the freezer. I’ll put them in the oven now!
Back in the morning, I hope.
03:10hrs, I’m back.
More time was lost, as CCleaner closed CorelDRAW, and it took two hours to get up and running again.
During which I forgot about the potato chunks cooking in the oven. Well burnt.
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – The memories needed for Inchies’ Ode, Required to be excavated from where they had gathered, The house of Dementia, my brain to be ungraved… For related facts & memories, I scavenged, Finding little, as mind-detritus accumulated, I hunted, foraged, but little was garnered, Many things that couldn’t be recognised, But, I couldn’t find the mother-load, Anne Gina came, concentration deflected… Carer Ejaz arrived, and I had my wounds inspected, Delicate areas were well-barriered, Medicines given, my bruised hand was medicated, Back to the Ode, brain now more fragmented, Set fact-harvesting, I again wrestled, But nothing of any use was obtained, Some unwanted oddities were gleaned… I had to stop my attempted Ode preparation, What happened next, I can’t say I was surprised… I’d lost my plot for this flipping Ode! I wasn’t traumatised, stressed or agitated, Maybe just a smidgeon exacerbated? I’d be delighted if my life could be bedighted!
Friday 1025hrs: Just got as far as here after doing the ad-lib Ode. The nurse is due in about an hour. I think. So I’ll have to rush on and miss bits off. I’m further behind than ever before.
Blog-wise, and I do love doing it.
Legs this morning, on waking up.
Legs this afternoon. Looking better, but the feet are still dodgy to walk on. When they go down enough to get my slippers on, things may improve.
Late morning view.
Catheter drink made up.
Afternoon view.
Trapped my hand in the drawer. How? Not the foggiest, I was in a seizure at the time. No pain until I came out of it, feeling giddy as usual. The feet being full of bodily fluids didn’t help very much at all.
A Pareidolia’s Delight, evening snap. I see a bird and a beast eating it. Carer Ejaz saw the beast straight away.
I was well fatigued and tired, and forgot to put the tomatoes on the tray. Tsk! Went to wash the pots and found I’d left the hot tap running yet again. The drain had blocked, but luckily, I arrived in time to prevent an overflow from triggering the flood alarm. 👍🏼
Rifled through the drawer to get the unplugger wire, and somehow caught my hand in the rush as I trapped it in the drawer.
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – Or, rather, me forgetting to close it!
This morning, my mind seemed less peripatetic,
Carer Ejaz turned into almost a medic,
Body check, acne & eczema, medications next,
Got a bowl of water to wash, then dried my feet,
It was difficult getting about…
The toes felt as if I had gout,
On the computer, the door chime rang out,
Just, I was emptying the catheter pouch,
Walked in agony, to see who it was…
Window cleaner, to give them a wash,
I explained that I wasn’t feeling up to much,
I said no thanks, & locked him out,
Got back and started the blog layout,
Ten minutes later, or thereabouts,
I felt warm wee-wee coming from the pouch,
As I stood up, the carpet made a squealch…
I’d left the valve open; I went into a panic,
Spent an hour drying it, where I could reach,
The computer? I had to log out…
As I bent to soak the carpet… Ouch!
I banged my head on the corner of the couch!
Carer Joe arrived, and I was very confused,
He took the laundry, and I got more bemused,
Tried to log on with the bank, it refused…
I tried to get it going, things were adjusted,
Our efforts to log in were busted…
Password & log-in, each stayed unaccepted,
Now seizure & Anne Gyna started,
I was getting most aggravated,
Faux pas & frustrations got me agitated,
Then the Physio chap arrived,
Just as I was coming back out of a mini seizure,
I told him of my Accifauxpa & the wet Axminster,
And went back into a partial seizure…
A total blank, the next half-hour,
I think I lost a bit of willpower,
Anne Gyna returned with mental confusion,
Carer Joe updated me on the missed action,
I had trouble remaining focused,
The computer froze, & I became a fatalist…
Turned off the computer, I’d never felt frumpier!
Constantly being got at by Anne Gyna,
My curses and oaths were at their foulest,
Carer Joe called, and I found sudden joyfulness,
Joe moved a plug, Google back on in 2 ticks,
I could have kissed him on his cheeks!
He’d made me a momentary rapturist,
Ridden with bad luck, short of spondulicks,
Worried if the seizures are classed as fits,
My resolution was at its squalidest,
Anne Gyna, Toothache Tiffany & sidekicks,
Depression, frustration put on my shitlist,
Today was my testiest, traumatised & tetchiest,
Made a meal, midnight well past…
Things I couldn’t find, or had lost…
Sharp knife, TV remote, and wristwatch…
Banking details, AA batteries for the clock,
I still can’t get my foot into a slipper or sock…
I’ll always be a failure and a solecist! – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – A miserable day, as revealed by the Ode above. A chaotic schedule. Seizure and error-ridden. Along with the frustration and depression, I had Anne Gyna back on form. Any one of the Accifauxpas would have been more than enough for me. The seizure, when the man from the NHS Health and Safety came, was almost a blank. But I saw that he had fitted a cushion to the computer chair for me. Thank you! This is the first time I had a seizure when two people were present. Hope I didn’t drop any clangers or say the wrong thing. 🤞🏻
I managed to take a few photos.
On waking. Looking better
Early morning
Later in the day. The feet began to swell.
Very late at night.
Tried to watch some recorded Heartbeat programmes. But got confused or went wrong. It didn’t help me fall asleep and made me feel disoriented each time I struggled and failed to exit the pre-recorded section. Humph!
I gave up anticipating I’d nod off immediately. But, no!
From nowhere, he got stuck in my mind with guilt-trips, shame, patheticness, depression, frustrations and all from years ago, at first anyway.
I clearly recall writing notes which I’m using now.
His digs were getting too close to the present time. This indicated how I am now struggling with everyday, simple daily tasks. It hit home! I think I forced myself awake. (Maybe not?)
Only to have a visit from He’s still with me, on and off this morning.
Life is becoming an albatross around my neck. I’ve never used that phrase before. It fits, though.
Gawd, I’m feeling low! But, thanks to Doctor Vindla, I’ve got my appointment to see a neurologist at the QMC. Unfortunately, it is for November! Hey-Ho!
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – May the Force Be With You
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – Misspelt – Tsk! – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
Why was a chemist called an apothecary?
Would both be covered as a pharmacy?
A needle, a jab, a hypodermic, or an injection?
Shocked, amazed, flabbergasted or awestricken?
Father, Pastor, Reverend, or Deacon?
Plus, moreover, as well as, or in addition?
Educator, Professor, Teacher or Academician?
Atrocity, obsenity, disgrace or abomination?
Milligan, Byron, Keats, Shakespeare or Arion?
Acerbation, irritation, vexation or infuriation?
Continual, incessant, perpetual or aeonian?
Morning, pre-lunch, afore noon, or antemeridian?
Medical, treating, therapeutic or aesculapian?
Certification, qualification, or authentication?
Riposted, flung-back, sneered, or an antistrophon?
Stannic, brass, titanium, metal or adamantium?
Heresy, heathenism, nihilism, or agnosticism?
Reflections, musing, or contemplation?
Pandemonium, chaos, disorder, or confusion?
A stroke or fit, seizure, spasm, or convulsion?
A rattle, a crackle, a whisper, or a susurration? – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
We hear words spoken in the vernacular,
Differing words for the same thing is spectacular,
Slangs, nicknames, so many colloquialisms,
All accepted, used as a conventionalism,
Each option locally respected…
Words can easily be wrongly pronounced,
Leaving visitors, strangers, dumbfounded,
Spoken local errors are best disregarded,
They get banned by Starmer at some stage?
Pronouncing a hostage as a sausage?
I love listening to others’ slang,
I’m guilty of using local verbal colloquialisms,
I’ve had a shortage of education,
What I had ignored lacked any curriculum,
Ailments left me with a lack of cohesion,
I tried to join the foreign legion…
I’m joking, of course, it could be worse…
My coffin might fall out of the hearse?
Oh no, I’m being cremated first…
I fell off a hospital trolley, as I waited…
To have my thumb sewn back on.
I’m losing the plot again, sorry…
I’ll be back on Wednesday, if not dead,
I’m getting tired and feeling addlepated,
Not sure if I’m affected, or afflicted,
Nor by what or why, can’t get me aspirated,
I think the log wound may be cestoded.
I’d like my sanity to be reconstituted…
I am mentally & physically daunted,
I think that ought to have been elided,
Or maybe thwarted?
I’ve got to get myself sorted… – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
Legs seemed to get a little thinner. Not the feet or toes, though. Computer hassle, that Carer Joe helped me work out and get it going again. A quickie. So many things went wrong. The nurses arrived and changed the dressing on the leg. They didn’t think the swelling on the ankle was anything to bother about. Leg was easier in the morning, but the feet were the same. Progress, methinks? – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – Wee-wee shade
Mornings first view
Later view
Got food out for later.
Morning legs & feet shots
Afternoon shots
Selected this shot for the face in the clouds Face in the clouds, Circled – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – Carer Ejaz and Joe called today.
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
I was in Parliament, listening to Keir’s abstractionism,
I gun in pocket, excited, a possible aneurysm?
It seems I’d had an aberration,
To kill the leader of our nation,
All he spouted seemed full of abstractionism,
Ending off with some anecdotalism,
They had problems with an amplifier,
And asked me to investigate???
I dropped it; it was broken in a terrible state,
Beefeaters came, and I was put in detention,
Locking me up in a cell, locking the gate,
No emptying the catheter bag, nothing to drink or eat,
No windows, & a wooden bench, the only seat,
There was a photo on the wall of Tony Blair,
I asked, “Why is that there?
A Beefeater said, “Christ, don’t tell Starmer!”
I said, “Can I have some sausages?”,
He said, “Yes, they’re better than hostages!”
Adding, “Did they take your gun? I’ll gerrit back for yer”
“Well, I was intending to be a murderer”
“But only Starmer”… don’t be such a worrier…
Each of us guards is a Chelsea Pensioner…
We each lost our Winter Fuel allowance,
So will let you escape when we get the chance…
Get yer gun bullets back, put some money in a sack,
Make sure Starmer calls, but expect a promise back
That you assassinate, Keir the Scavenger!
“Believe me, it will be my pleasure!”
Then we’ll arrange for you to receive a call,
From an 83-year-old stripteaser!
Starmer came, and I became a killer.
Although I prefer to be called an assassinater,
Deed done, I was taken to the hotel by a Beefeater,
He stripped off, saying she was a Drag King,
I have to say, this was to my liking…
What could I do with the catheter contraption?
Although I was getting a painful erection?
She was also a nurse, & started morphing…
Took off the catheter, we started pleasure-making, The alarm clock went off – bloody annoying! – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – A terribly short on detail blog. I made a decent start to the day as well. But, bad news, then the return of Anne Gyna on the rampage, as I had anticipated. Toothache Tiffany, and my Leslie’s lymphatic-ridden leg and foot have gotten 20% bigger overnight. The increase in pain from this is about the same percentage. All tore my concentration to pieces. I cannot get my slippers or shoes on at all. The leg is a lot thicker, and the foot is ginormous with all the water under the skin. In addition, the left leg is getting it now! The day passed almost unnoticed by me. Some terrible news arrived at teatime that I couldn’t mention; it was sad beyond belief. When it’s all over, I can reveal details about it. That threw out what bit of equilibrium I had left. Photos and what I can recall, some bits were readable on the memory notepad. I’m in pain and discomfort, sad, and working through a depression of mammoth dimensions from the unwanted, almost feared news.
Far too deep a colour this morning.
Morning view.
A smattering of rain came later on. According to the Nottingham News, England is expected to face a 5 billion litre per day shortfall in public water supplies by 2050, and a further 1 billion litre per day deficit for the broader economy. Pressures caused by climate change, growing population, emerging technologies and the need to protect the environment. Well, fancy that!
Started blogging. Made a mess of doing the template for today’s blog. What a mess again. I was concentrationless all flipping day. No wonder I’m further behind than ever!
Ejaz arrived as I was struggling to get started on the template. Not the lad’s fault at all, but after he’s gone, I totally forgot where and what I was doing, and ended up starting from scratch again. Frustrated! The lad did his best for me today. (Referring to the few readable notes here…) Including taking a shot of the state of the legs & feet. (Or was that Joe?) Not a pretty sight. What a state they are in, and the right leg is so much thicker and harder than it was yesterday. With the left one getting that way, too, now. Still, the nurse said she would return on Tuesday.
I don’t recall having many seizures, but I feel confused, like I would be if I’d had some short ones.
Started to get to me, especially with me getting the spirit-shattering news late in the day.
After Carer Joe made his last call, I went to prep the meal of the day. While doing this, I had my only visit for several days and actually enjoyed preparing the food. No logical reason, but I felt great, actually started singing to myself!
Got the potatoes done in the oven. The peas and beans were later placed in the microwave, then transferred to the same tray as the spuds had been baked on. Added two Siesian sausages. (Not hostages) , And a day out-of-date lemon yoghourt.
Got the things washed and stored, then returned to the computer, saved the work, and closed it down. I put on the TV to watch a film. Fell asleep, an uninterrupted sleep; and woke up 7 hours later, with the feet and toes in agony!
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – Summary Painful legs, feet, and toes, And places where Anne Gyna goes, Depression Duncan again flows, How many seizures? Who knows? Shattered by the sad late news, I don’t need any more angst, My hopes now at the bleariest… I’m at my pitifullest, girls-blousest, My thoughts, needs get crisscrossed… Appointment cancelled by the dentist, In need of medical care, a chiropodist, Wait until November to see a neurologist, My own thoughts are confrontationalist, Debilities, impairments, new frailties, I’m grateful I’ve had no more strokes, I’m currently at my grumbliest, I’m a bit like an introspectionist,
Souless, empty, spiritually, an ignoblest!
A confirmed self-criticalist,
When things go wrong, are lost or missed,
Moaning, groaning? I’m the kvetchiest!
I live with a constant mind-malaise,
Bad luck, failures, ailments are my nudniks…
How will I get to see the neuropsychiatrist?
And HMG is full of fibbing pilgarlics!
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – A perfect name for Starmer? Reprobate!
He does tend to extrapolate…
Also tends to floccinaucinihilipilificate,
His lies are spoken in a manner asseverate,
He lies perfectly; well, he was a barrister,
His promises have all gone abnegate,
Nationalise public services? We still await,
Robbed every pensioner and family farmer,
A Labour Party leader, now PM, the bleeder! – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – Thankfully, although I couldn’t recall taking many of them, I managed to get a few photos taken today. Because the memory notepad was bare this morning. Last evening, I had seizure after seizure. That late in the day meant it clashed with my daily routine, leaving me tired and confused. The result was not nice for me. I cannot recall the last two Carer visits at all, but I assumed they were the usual weekend two, one of whom came earlier. Lymphorrhoea Leslie also got worse as the day went on. I was struggling to walk and to keep my balance. The under-toe area was excruciating, along with the sack of Lymph water that was growing under the ankle bone. The toes have gone bent, and there is Lymph water now on top of the feet. The wound area is only painful when I catch it on something, although it does give off the usual electric shocks up the leg, but not too often, and makes me jump more than it feels too painful. Toothache-Tiffany has been on and off all day long. One blessed thing, though; Anne Gyna was kind to me today. Bless her.
My worst day in a long time, to be honest. With the repeated out-of-it’s and my confused state of mind after each seizure, I’m not sure of anything that took place. I sense more people came to see me, but certainty mingles with uncertainty.
Luckily, I had the top graphics done before the seizures arrived.
I hope Sunday won’t be the same. 🙏🏻
The night bag colour was good!
Food Delivery Fridge Filled up! Fridge door
Cheesy Roll, bacon, tomatoes garden peas & a pot of jelly.
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
My thoughts tend at times to do aerobatics,
It considers itself something of an anthologist,
Memory-Mangling-Malcom: Thus memories missed,
Or shared, swapped, or lost in the mist…
One may reclaim an iota, or some missing bits,
Then new ideas are lost or dismissed,
Mingled with mystery, abstrusest,
Facts glean different interpretations,
Resulting in aberrations, in addition, anon…
Confusion deepens when I recall the first one,
Forget the next one, this brings doubt, mistrust,
A selection of fears, worries and angsts,
Time lost, and the urgency gets overstressed…
One moment you are at the day’s angriest,
Sweat under the armpits, concentration flits,
Frustration, followed by getting depressed,
All you can do is what you deem your best…
Then Anne Gyna kicks off, all over your chest!
Reminding you of Grizelda’s hairy breasts,
Our lamented mutually-loved entangling trysts,
Oh, how I miss those physical exercises…
Gone forever – wanting to cut your wrists…
Like each and all self-controvertists,
You dig out memories and eroticise,
Wondering if this is really wise?
Recall your hatred of Starmer & graffitists,
Am I a sort of inspirationist?
Is it time to metamorphosise? – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – 05:00hrs: I stirred.
A lovely light shade.
I thought it would be a good idea to try to get the front room tidied & cleaned bit. It still looks the same.
Cut up some tomatoes and put them in the fridge for later on, salted.
Joe checked the neurologist’s text message. And got it up on screen (the letter). It turned out that the appointment is for November.
Carer Ejaz then Joe took photos of Leslie’s leg and ankle with lymphorrhoea throughout the day. The District Nurse came to change the dressing. She seemed concerned about the fluid-filled growth above the ankle joint and took a photo to send to Matron Julie for assessment. Ejaz’s inside of the ankle.
Showing early hours of the ankle fluid swelling, and the tape that Ejaz added to keep the pad on.
After the nurse had been. The fluid-filled sac is obvious and a little larger now. A fresh treatment pack was put on.
While Carer Joe was here, I had a seizure. Joe said it lasted for just a few minutes. Then, took this photo as I was writing on the memory notepad. Minutes later, the seizure arrived. As I got up from the chair, the after effects of this seizure had me over, another tumble. I lurched on my way down, landing on the c1966, £300 Oxfam charity shop-bought, whincingly grotty, beige-coloured, crumb-covered from my nocturnal nibbling, itch-making, uncomfortable, positively unhealthy, and dangerous, no longer operational, virus-breeding, easy-to-fall-out-of, catheter-tube-trapping recliner.
A smidge shook up. I should have left it a little longer before getting up after being out of it?
Joe will be off for two days now. Not a pleasant thought at all. He’s saved the day so many times this week, I fear for myself over the weekend. But the lad needs his breaks. Got a wedding to go to as well. I love photos of Pakistani weddings, the joy, the colour, and the celebrations!
I spent many hours on the blog, and it seems to get nowhere with it. I’m still on it now, Sat morning.
