No electricity bills – it’s been cut off! Now, can everyone stop labelling me a crook, pensioner-pincher?
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I learnt today that my DNA was adenoviral…
Dying neurotransmitters made it aetiological…
To my brain, this was not logical…
It sounded pretty comical,
Most of my problems are neurological,
But this ailment may be attenuable…
That was a shock, unbelievable!
Me? Get an ailment that’s treatable?
Possibly, maybe perhaps, even curable!
The hope is to make this abrogable,
I thought this test result may be apocryphal,
He said it could be operationable…
There’s a chance your heart may go asystole,
“That’ll be fine; it’ll save me buying a pistol!”
He frowned & said; Are you suicidal?
“No, it was a joke, I was being risible!
He laughed, saying, “Haha, some people!”
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Continued from Monday:
The first visit to the WC was a Constipation Conrad torpedo of mammoth proportions, which pleased me, given the upcoming medical visits later today. There is less chance of embarrassment from any leaks.
I got on the computer to finish Monday’s blog. Then, most surprisingly, I was summoned to the porcelain Throne again. I was even more amazed at Trotsky Terence in control again! Which made me feel a fool for mentioning how pleased I was with Constipation Conrad. Now, I think the opposite. Coping with the bloody catheter is bad enough, especially with having to wear trousers again, the first time in months. I regained the worry over any leaks from the catheter or it filling up while I was out; now I fear things may escape from the rear end!
I pressed on with starting this blog. And half an hour into the job – unbloody-believable!
This third visit was messy and ultra-gooey in the extreme! It’s a good job that I have plenty of toilet paper and air freshener to hand in the wet room. Now, I worry about the bus journeys to and from the medics. Can I avoid any 
getting on and off of the bus? Will there be any waiting for what is needed? That will give it more time to leak or burst on the bus or during surgery. And walking is not an option anymore. That would take me an hour each way and almost guarantee an on the trips to and from Sherwood. It turned out to be a lot longer.
Stopping here, wait for the caregiver, put on socks, take medications, and then do the ablutions. Then, sort out what is needed for the trip and leave before midday for the surgery: bus pass, collapsable walking stick, Medical card, appointment card, and log book. Empty the catheter bag, wear new PPs, and wear trousers. Oh, and hearing aids and put on long-distance spectacles.+ Keys.Â
It’s all a challenge that no one should have to go through. But, with no one to help, I must sort it out myself.
Life can be a @?*⇓⊗! No! Life is a @?*⇓⊗!.
Care Christopher arrived and put on my socks. He also took the laundry bag at my request. I haven’t received it yet, but it’s only been 25 hours so far. Oh, I get them back.Â
Care Sam came later. She could see the state I was in with my nerves. She kindly helped me get the things together for the journey-to-hell send-back. (Well, it was a struggle, as I hope you will read about later.) Sam kindly walked me to the bus stop, which was kind of her. When leaving the flat, she returned to get my hat, which I had forgotten to put on. But, waiting for the bus, I remembered the last time I went on one and fell getting onto the bus, and then off of it!
I chickened out and walked down Winchester Street Hill into Sherwood, carefully and slowly. The famously cracked pavements were now covered with leaves in sheltered areas, and it was difficult to manoeuvre the three-wheeled-walker when 
hitting leaf-covered potholes. No falls yet. I reached the bottom of Winchester Street and went up Mansfield 
Road to the supposedly arranged flu jab at the top chemist. On the way up the hill, I called in the Co-op and got some food. As I walked up towards the chemist, the atmosphere was bleak. Nine people on that short stretch of the incline sat in closed shop doorways with the traditional pot of coffee, begging and giving out depressing stares that could melt you if you looked back at them. Poor devils or con men?
I plodded up the hill to the chemists, taking my time so I wasn’t too early for the flu jab appointment.
Whoopsiedangleplop. The lady said I was not booked for a jab, and anyway, the lady who does them is not in on Tuesdays. I explained that my caregiver had rung to make the appointment, but she may have made it at a different chemist. I might not have explained which one very carefully. I think I was in a mini-seizure when she made the calls. She recommended I 
try the bottom chemist, a quarter of a mile down the hill and almost up the high point on the right. So I began the long trek down and up Mansfield Road to the second chemist to investigate. I got so far down and 
remembered there was a chemist to the north that the Carer might have booked me in with. Turned around, passing the Co-op and first chemist back up the hill and down to the Daybrook Chemist. I was feeling knackered by then! Got there. So, back up the Mansfield Road Hill to Sherwood, down through Sherwood to the chemist.
Nope, I wasn’t booked in with him either.
He rang other chemists without any luck. But Carrington Chemist could do me now and give me the COVID-19 jab.
It was another dangerous trip over the hill and down into Carrington. Before crossing any roads, the pavements and high steps on that route need working out.
Finally, I got there and was told they would not start the injections for 20 minutes. ‘Take a seat’; I was told in a way that dared not take one. So, I sat down, knowing the agony I’d be in when standing up again from Cartilages Chloe & Carole! With all the walking and hobbling, fighting to keep three-wheeled-walker-wally from tipping over, that I’d done.
I was first in the queue, though. I got into the treatment room. The lady said she could not give me the DVT procedure but did give me the COVID and Flu jabs. An assistant stopped me on my way out. She had some Prescriptions that I could take with me. Which, hopefully, will mean Carer Richard will not have to fetch them for me this week. I must remember to tell the Carers later on about this.
Then, the long slog back up the Mansfield Road hill and down into Sherwood began.
I crossed the road to return on that side, thinking the pavements might be easier to navigate. They weren’t.
I pressed on steadily and carefully.
I did not experience arm pain, but there were plenty from the Cartilages. The arm aches started when I got into the flat.
I called into the continental shop and got some food. Then, I finally reached the bottom of Winchester Street. I have no idea of the bus timings nowadays, so 
I hastened… Haha! And hobbled up Winchester to the bus stop.
Luckily a bus was due in six minutes.
I stood up on the bus. I didn’t want to start Chloe and Carole off again. The arms were twinging a little now, not as bad as later on, and in the morning, Wow!
Gt in the flats, said hello to Warden Julie as I passed, and up to the flat. Food & sleep, I’m sure, were primarily on my mind.
And boy, after eating, (I took a snap of the meal as I recall, and the batteries ran out in Kodak Tim. Did I sleep? Yep! I slept for about 14 hours!
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INCHY’S PAINFUL INSPIRATION
I was so chuffed with my handling all of the confusion,
Although, at times, it seemed like a hallucination,
Sorting the chemistas out crippled my bunion!
I felt like I’d walked to and back from Euston!
It was painful to free myself from inaction,
I suffered incapacitation but had an incarnation.
Despite the pain from the Covid and Flu injections,
And having to face averbal inquisition,
I say this with no doubts but justification…
I believe this should/could be achievable…
Twice a week, if the weather is allowable…
I’ll take a walk around the flats, well, a hobble!
It may be stopped by Bunion Baz or Cartilage Carol,
Inchies, Fungal lesion, Diabetes, things Peripheral,
Seizures Sandra, Sham’s Shocks electrical,
No problem, I can always reschedule!
The hobble will naturally start off ephemeral…
If this goes well, and my body is permissible,
Although these plans sound frangible…
My new power may make them possible!
But I’ve no desire to walk so far ever again!
TTFN
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If I say that today was an odd day, this would be an understatement, a mild euphemism, and an undeniable matter-of-fact. Morning Carer Selina arrived. She medicated me and put on the socks, and after the gal had gone, I’d lost the plot with what I was going to type. Sad, innit?
of my prostate coming out. Cause when the Specialist Doctor put me on the Finasteride tablets for a month.
So the month’s course is now a year-long one, and still, they ply me with more Prostate (RIP)-killing capsules?
A better colour this morning.
The sun was creeping up from the rear left of the blocks of prison cells—no, no, flats! It gave this shot a specific flavour, but I forgot what word I was going to use.
It’s safe to say that the oven burn scar will soon start to crumble off of the hand. It’s not easy taking photos with one hand.
Out came the new cordless hoover with its headlights on when in use. I think I’ll name it Vacuum Victor.
I caught my hand on the rack as I grabbed the toilet roll, and bits of a green-looking scar dropped off. It has taken eleven days to heal. I’d better not pick at it, though. 
Afternoon and evening sky snaps.
Pareidolia’s Delight.
Faces, bird heads, a human head…
A taser, a beast with an open jaw, and a bird with an open beak—it’s incredible how many things I spotted today.
This is the last of the sky shots I took. I took some later ones without the SD card being inserted into Kodak Tim. Tsk! It could happen to anyone, (he
16:20hrs: Carer Ali arrived as I sat down to have the meal. 
tomatoes and veggie sauce, mini vegan sausages, and chips, and I had such a hard time getting grime off the oven tray. I tried cleaning it, but I gave up and threw it away! Hence, the chips were mangled, but I still enjoyed them, even if they had cooled too much. The pot of jelly was of a sour-type one. Nice 
& Tangy! 
I trod on a power socket 
extension that slightly made me jump. I knocked the overbed mini-table over, followed it onto the floor, and tripped again over the walking stick that had been knocked over as well. I wish this was being recorded in something other than my memory! It was worthy of being a Brian Rix-type Farce! 
and 
 started bleeding, I was back to square one, on the floor in agony! I somehow walked on my knees to the recliner to get myself upright again. The grief from Cartilages Chloe and Carole was so bad that when I did manage to haul up my elephantine-stomached body onto my feet again, I took a Codeine, creamed the Fungal Lesion and Harold’s Haemorrhoids, and Phorpain-Gelled both knees and Back-Pain-Brenda! I rose upright to make my way to the bed again… No, there’s more to come yet!
Porcelain Throne arose! I was extra heedful and got to the wet room without further hindrances. The flow started as my bottom hit the plastic lid. It came and came… and came! It was a Kharki, almost liquid type of evacuation. You know, the kind that leaves an uncomfortable sensation in your innards… well, my innards!
again.
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My concentration is degenerating into tabefaction. I was chatting away with Carer Joanne while she got the medications sorted, and I lost what I was talking about in a flash – twice! Then, later, as I was paying a visit to the 
, nothing moved, no motion, 
was in full control – absolute control. I sat and waited, counting the cracks in the ceiling (23), had a bash at the crossword puzzle (Got one answer), and as I gave up and stood up, I knocked the olive oil bottle, and it fell straight into the WC! Yes, I think I may have sworn… but not as much as I did two minutes later. Using the picker-upperer to get the Protection Pants back up, I tore them at the seam. I got a fresh pair out of the bag and started to carefully get them on, not easy as it took place mid-way through the procedure. But, no falls, no injuries, no harm. I got the pants in position and sorted the leg bag into position, and I seem to remember thinking to myself, at the time, ‘Well, that went well. ‘Fatal!’ I should have known better with my luck! I turned to leave, and I walked into the bloody doorframe again! Hitting it right where I’d had the Covid jab inserted! I cursed so angrily at myself; there was phlegm coming out of my mouth, and the pain seemed a second consideration; my first one was to curse my luck… several times and with a wide variety of self-vituperation & condemnation-led foul mutterings. Acrimoniousness, blasphemy & self- malignity! 
A jolly mug of Glengettie for me. I pathetically knocked it over in a Shaking Shaun second; Humph!
Made another.
Morning’s first photo.
The scab is breaking up slowly. I think some will be missing by tomorrow morning. I mustn’t pick at it!
As wot I wrote in the prologue.
Fresh leg bag on after ablutioning.
Second external photo.
Emptying the Catheter Day Bag.
I swear it was bubbling. Hehe!
Third window shot, beautiful clouds.
AGAIN!
Later on, clouds again.
Plenty of things in these, I see,
Tore the PPs. As already mentioned above.
I got it! But it took me far more than 3 seconds!
Contrails in the sky… or are they?
It was a lovely meal. Lamb and mutton burgers were eaten on thin slices of milk roll bread, dunked in ketchup with pickle. Nice UK tomatoes and crinkle-cut chips! A pot of mandarins in jelly eaten for afters. Nice!
Took this early morning photo.
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, in yesterday’s blog. She recognised my condition immediately. The belated COVID side effects were that the arm was stinging, and apparently, I was stuttering as I spoke to the gal. I fear it got worse as the day went on. Confusionabalitis reined. I kept going into mind-blanks and seizures at an alarming rate. However, it was the same after last year’s Covid jab, so I’m not panicking. 
Varer Christopher took some sky photos for me last night on his previous two visits that I can use. My eyes were not up to photographing much, but I took a couple before the effects got to me, which is another belated side effect. 
Chris’s first efforts here.
From the balcony window.
Nice.
A double shot, methinks?
His second visit snaps.
Local residences.
Local residences.
I took this one earlier when trying to sleep in the chair.
Chris took this shot for me.
Also, this is one of the burn scars. It seems to be drying up now; the crust is beginning to break up. I burned my hand on the oven rack eight days ago! It’s a persistent little thing. Hehe!
Took this watching the TV in the hope of falling asleep.
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I was so pleased with the effects of the Covid Jab.
joined in. A belated payment in pain, dizziness and the eye’s vision were blurred again. Maryham was kind to me, got the socks on, their nocturnal pouch off, and gave me the medications; bless Her.
Good colour urine today!
Set on the long walk down Winchester Street Hill. Noticing a lot of dog-phoo en route.
This was the only short stretch of pavement that wasn’t cracked and broken. Struggled with the trolley a bit.
The first closed-down businesses are on the corner at the junction of Mansfield Road.
On my way to the Continental store, I passed another closed shop. Years ago, it was a Tesco, then a Fine Fare, and then a Trustees Bank. It is up for rent now.
Hobbled up to the chemist.
I’d got the timing wrong! Fancy that!
Japanese restaurant.
This wasn’t closed; she opened it later.
Closed.
Closed.
Closed
Closed.
Vandalised.
Greengrocers as was…
Bottom of the Hill.
The long trek up the Hill.
En route, I counted the dog droppings, 28.
