I woke at about 06:24,
Little Inchie was still sore.
Urine colour a number four,
WC is needed; that’s for sure…
On the Throne, liquid did pour…
A messier mess; upon the floor,
And my belly looked ampler!
Bother from Toothache Tiffany,
Cartilage pain in each knee,
Took a photo, & made the tea,
Spilt the milk, dearie me!
Minutes late back on the WC!
Hit my shoulder on the door frame – I gave it an apology!
Inadequate responses from my memory,
My perception was not at its keenest,
The computer was at its absurdest…
Whatever I tried, attempted or pressed,
The damned machine soon got me so depressed,
I didn’t know what to do for the best…
I repeatedly tried Norton and the Ccleaners,
Run them, close all down, restart… no go, oh, bejesus!
The analyser failed and worsened my ailments & derivatives,
Launching moments of non-stop depression,
Spent little time creating and more on correcting,
But mostly, I spent more time failing…
No point in photographing or graphicalising,
I spent ages preparing and hoping…
On creating this so far, pictureless blogging!
No confidence; I feel like a circumforanean…
I swear I’m cursed with and by a cacodemon!
Carer Christopher issued the morning medication,
I didn’t sulk, but it was a temptation,
Today’s confusion, indecision, & apprehension,
Indicated that insanity was a possible option!
Life’s a hotchpotch, thought, a motley collection,
Most of my ideas seem to have no connection…
I’m still up for socialising and adoption,
It’s from Doreen Dementia that I need protection!
Carers Chloe & Kara came calling,
Kara explained to Chloe my financialisationing,
So next week, Chloe can sort out the banking,
All done in ten minutes, amazing!
Of course, I’ll not be remembering!
I had another go at grapicalisationing,
Tried to save it for WordPressing,
But not all of the photographing,
Gawd’s truth, some went in!
Those above, I tried to save more, praying…
But CorelDraw started crashing!
I turned it all off, restarted it, again got it going,
But the bloody pictures were again not saving!
Two hours to again use Norton and Ccleaning!
I took two shots from the kitchen window,
The clouds were so beautiful and low, To the left and right, in auto,
Earlier ones I’d taken still would not go,
Into the file or WordPress, though!
I swore a bit in Fortissimo!
MEAL MADE Royal Anya potatoes & chicken,
Beetroot, tomatoes, not forgetting…
Yoghourt, a tasty curd, lemon!
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – ‘Now look mush’, I uttered… I know when my bread’s buttered, No wonder I can see only the one gate, Because it was hell on earth, mate! Born to poverty, what a state! Miserable, I died broke & intestate! Bad eyesight, cancer pancreate. Catheter, Peripheral neuropathy,
Mental & physical inadequacy,
Got shot twice, the leg and chest, Born with nothing, I’ve got most of it left!
I grew floppy, womanlike breasts,
No help at my begging or behest!
Ended up losing loves like Audrey…
Grizelda, Marie, Christine & Suzie, Am I pissed off? Absobloodylutely!
Send me back again? There’ll be some argie-bargie! – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
I’d fallen asleep in the £300 second-hand shop-purchased, c1966, welt-causing, uncomfortable, not-working, itch-inspirational, crumb-containing recliner. The broken, ever-wakening sleep was no worse or better than struggling to get in and out of bed. I must have had ten bad nights on the trot now. Talking of trot, my first aim of the day was to get to the Porcelain Throne ASAP. The rumbling and grumbling started as I detached the nocturnal pouch from the day bag. Trotsky Terence won the battle, as he had for eleven days now, but Constipation Conrad was trying a counterattack, and there were some small globules and lumps in the basin. Once again, all the evacuated varieties are composed of almost black and light brown/karki. It was colourful, almost, but messy. I had a body scrub and medicated the areas in need. I didn’t shave, but I may brave it to have one later.
I’d not noticed what the time was when I woke, but after the wet room session, I went to the kitchen to check the taps, etc. and took a photo of the dark, foggy view that was on offer from the kitchen window. , I knocked the clock mentioned above off of the window ledge. Then I got out the last of the four clocks I bought last year, put a battery in, and set the time right. 04:55hrs.
I got the computer on and soon regretted doing so. Over the next six hours, I went through torment, botherations, mood swings, and frustrations and ended up in a deep depression. CorelDraw crashed three times! CCleaner failed to enable me to upload photos, so I tried it with the Norton cleaner and had the same results. Zilch success!
During these hours, Carer Shaquille called. Then Carer Kimberley had to do the financial help, which she couldn’t because no one had shown her how, and I didn’t know. I had the joy of Carer Kara doing it all for me for months. But learnt nothing, or couldn’t remember, how to get through to the bank on the website; none of the passwords or numbers were safe in Kara’s mind. She has been moved into the carer’s office. I had to close everything down five times! My failings and inabilities made me feel even worse.
As it got lighter, amidst the computer problems, I gave up on the computer and turned everything off. I made myself a brew of Glengettie tea and ate four large cookies in dunking mode. I took six photographs as I went to wash the mug. Amazingly, the computer let me save the first two. But the other four, which had caught some seagulls flying on them, were not getting saved for some reason. The old photos I was saving had disappeared! I tried renaming the old images first, but that didn’t work either. They still went off into the ether. Saving was difficult enough before this happened! Grrr! I can’t take much more of this.
Yet earlier, when updating yesterday’s blog, it sent everything. I know there were only 4 snaps and graphics, but it seems terribly hit-and-miss since then. More miss that hit!
I got a comment from cyber-mate Tim about me trying a Tablet to solve the computer issues. I felt like a fool, not knowing what one was. Another message with links to suitable types of Tablets on Amazon. I tried them and got this message.
This is a very long-winded bit. Skip it if you like. Again! In the afternoon, after Carer Kimberly had been. She’s going to do her best to get me some help. I was going back on the computer after her visit and heard something drop that obviously I’d knocked off of the end of the c1962 Hopwells sideboard, with the hanging off doors and unclosable drawers; it took me a while to discover that it was my mobile phone. I searched everywhere, looking for it, without finding it, so I assumed it was that it fell. I moved things, boxes, books, etc., searching for it. The only place I’d not looked was underneath the sideboard. I had to search for my wind-up torch, and more time was lost! I could not bend down too far, fearing that Dizzy Dennis would have on my knees. But the frustration of not knowing where it had got to, if it was the phone that made the clunking noise and not something else, meant I’d lost the mobile. I’m making hard work of this for you. Sorry! I bent down a smidge too low with the torch search and lost my balance. Banged down on the knees, which was probably the least damaging fall ever… but one of the most painful, worse than the head wound one. Arthur Itis in the knees, the Cartilage Sister Carol and Chloe really hurt… then I felt even more pain from poor Little Inchie, as the Catheter tubing yanked at him when I tried to move as I tried to get to the c1968, tatty, scruffy, unkempt, uncomfortable, virus, microorganism, bug, bacterium, bacillus, germ, parasite producing, and disease-fermenting second-hand, eyesorely-horrendously grungy beige-coloured, £300, charity shop bought, crumb-retaining, moth-eaten, non-working, itch-encouraging, incommodious, Haemorrhoid Harold testing, recliner, to attempt to haul myself up.
I then realised I could have used my 1982-model newly found mobile to call for help. The thought of pressing the alarm wristlet button never came into my mind—what a clot!
Then it dawned on me that I didn’t know any numbers!
Aha! I spotted the new landline where Carer Kara had put Meridian Care, Warden Deana, and Sister Janes’ auto numbers for me. I pressed the preset bottom and got ILC (Independent Living Coordinator), Oberstgrüppenfuhreress Warden and Primo Ballerina, Warden Deana. Who kindly said she would get some help and come up. ♥
As I waited, I did my best to get my elephantine wobbly body back up on its plates. (Slang for plates-of-meat), Feet!)
But there was little chance that I could, and I couldn’t!
Minutes later, the rescuers arrived. I was in a praying position on my painful knees. They took an arm each from the back and hauled me up. They were here for about two minutes, did a grand job and rushed off. Both were busy ladies. Thank you! ♥
Carer Israel arrived for the teatime medications.
I was telling him of my Whoopsiefauxpas but stopped when I realised he was writing on his log.
Then back on blog catchup.
Then, on the WordPress Reader.
I was serving the meal and took a shot of the late-evening view from the kitchenette window.
Can you see the ghostlike child in the clouds? Or dog?
The computer let me save these last two photos to WordPress in the morning!
Doesn’t it look horrible?
The Parmentier potatoes were baked in the oven, along with a pot of Polish pork knuckle meat, Milk Roll bread, and tons of strong Branston sauce.
I agree that the meat looks sickeningly repugnant. But the taste, especially the pork jelly, was lovely!
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – 05:45hrs: I woke up after a much better night’s sleep.
I took off and pictured the nocturnal catheter pouch. It was lighter-coloured for once, but not a lot of it.
I sat on the bed, and a deep thought overcame me. When it had finished, I made the bed… well, straightened it a bit. Then I went into the kitchen to ensure I’d not left the taps (faucets) running, the oven on, or the fridge doors open. I’d left a mess, but there was nothing untoward on the safety checks to report. I realised I’d forgotten to take the urine pouch with me, and I returned to the big room to collect it. Could I find it? Nope! I recall photoing it on the overbed table, but it was nowhere to be seen. I risked bending down to look under the bed, Nope! Under the Carers table. Nope! Thought I may have taken it with me and put it down somewhere in the kitchen, so I hobbled back to take another look. Nope!
Have I already been to the wet room to empty it? I poddled to the WC room to check. Nope! I felt a little nonplussed. It will undoubtedly turn up when I’m not looking for it. If this takes some time, the urine’s aroma or pong from the pouch should help my nose to locate it.
I’m off to the wet room on a dual mission.
Now, that was a different evacuation than most of them. Two-tone, distinctly brown and black, in what looked like cube-shaped mini-rugby balls (about eight) that plopped out simultaneously… followed by a mini-torrent of almost liquid jelly. The word I’m looking for is, Gooey! But no Whoopsiedangles today, just that I had to spend so long cleaning.
Did the teggies, and then I nervously tackled having a shave. Making absolutely sure I did not use the razors anywhere near the mystery wound on the back of my head. It went well. Two new shaving nicks, for they were hardly worth mentioning; a splash of the Brute soon stopped their flow. I managed a mini-, which was quickly followed by another. I suddenly became nervous as I thought I might have left the tap running in the kitchen. This thought seemed possible, as the hot water I used to shave was not as hot as usual. Stark naked, catheter bag hanging loose, I had to hasten to the kitchen to make sure… and I shoulder-charged the door frame in my rush, thus setting off . I got in the kitchen to find the hot water tap running, thankfully only slowly. As I almost lunged at the tap to turn it off, I against the corner of the trolley. I merely laughed these Accifauxpas off. No swearing or getting upset about things whatsoever. Things worsened when I returned to the wet room to shave. When I looked in the mirror, I saw that my nose, lower face, chin, throat, and under my left eye were an odd reddy-blue colour! The Carer took a snap of it for me as she arrived, at the same time as the food order came. A bit of a hectic start to the day. Haha!
Carer Sham got the medications. She put on my diabetic socks—put them on my legs, I mean. She then helped me get the food into the kitchen and put it away. Bless her! As Sham did the paperwork, I asked if she could see the marks on my face. The delivery driver gave me an odd look; I thought he must have seen the state on my face. Sham did, but it had almost left when I looked in the mirror. It almost needed a magnifying glass to still see it.
Sainsbury’s sent two loaves of Milk Roll bread, and both had a sell-by 22nd Oct date.
Carer Sam arrived. She could not see any blotches on my face at all, either. Another of the mysteries of Woodthorpe Court, with the hobgoblins, spectres, gnomai, phantasms, ghosts, the grotesque succubae, extraterrestrials, ectoplasms, spirits, or the Fata Morgana that have been sent to taunt, irritate and terminate my already limited saneness of mind, which is losing its marbles? Not that it matters; there were no pains, aches or itches with the facial globules. I suppose it may be a different form of the Excema or Acne?
The seizures had an hour or two with me. I think they varied from a few seconds to one that lasted about 15 minutes, as best I can estimate.
I was doing the second of the Ccleaner runs, and after this one, the computer let me get just one of the photos that had been refused earlier onto the blog. It was, I think, the third one I took this morning from the kitchen window. Not very good, but I like to show the dozens of my failed photos along with the odd one that comes out right. Hahaha!
Late afternoon, and I took these two snaps of the wonderful bubbly clouds.
In the first one, I can see a hand being held out to the left. It could be an animal’s head, an eel or a snake, maybe?
The second, taken to the left of the kitchen window, contained a feast of figures to be found.
Then the computer got sulky, and no more photos or graphics could be saved!
I was so tired and fed up, I turned off the computer and took two more evening sky shots. Hopefully, after more monotonous Ccleaning in the morning, these and the later ones can be saved, and I can add them then, hopefully with the snap of the terrible ready-made meal.
Carer Chris made the last two calls, but the lad seemed a little uptight. I’ll see and ask how he is at the morning call.
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
Wednesday Morning
I cleaned with Ccleaner and saved most of the snaps I could not yesterday. So, here they are belatedly.
The end of Citrus Walk, beyond the car park. This is where the old garages used to be; each one had been broken or attempted to be broken into, so they didn’t replace them. Sad for the druggies who can no longer access them for smoking, trading and sniffing, and of course, there’s nothing for the poor little mites to steal anymore.
Sunset
Undercooked carrots, teeth-breaking beef, hardly any gravy, overcooked garden peas, crumbly potatoes… well ¾ of a small potato. The lemon yoghourt was nice. Hehe!
After sunset shots… After sunset shot. After sunset shot.
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – I stirred from my slumber. My immediate thoughts and concern was to make sure the computer would allow me to save graphics & photographs. I thought a little prayer might help, so I offered one up). I unhitched the attached nocturnal catheter bag that hung from the day bag. Put it on the wobbly, weak, over-bed table so the carer can give me a colour rating when he/she arrives. I just had to see if the graphics could be saved to use in this blog, well, at that point, yesterday’s.
So I got the computer on without taking any photos and visited the Porcelain Throne. Thankfully, I made it in good time. This morning’s evacuation was without accidents, whoopsiedangleplops, accifauxpas, or embarrassments. But it was almost as messy as Sunday’s visit. It’s not that I was too smug about it; I was more concerned with getting the graphics on the blog. I cleaned up the wet room furniture, and I had the slightest wash possible. I didn’t shave after the Accifauxpa on Sunday; I think I was a smidge nervous and concentrated on the computer as an excuse for not shaving. Hope that makes sense.
Not a lot went too well today!
I put on the three photographs from last night, making them smaller and losing some quality, but all three were saved! At this point, I thought, while I was doing them, I would get some shots for today done and saved, and I got the fice graphics for the top of the page done—still resisting going into a smug mode, I may have learnt a lesson after yesterday’s farce.
Updating the Sunday blog revealed so many mistakes that it took me three hours to correct them, although I feel I must have missed some more. My eyesight is so variable it seems to react to different light levels. When the sun is out, it is far worse. Glaucoma Gladys, I assume. I wondered if they would bother doing this operation at all; it’s been a long time since the Cataracts were done. The Doctor said they couldn’t be done until they knew the Cataract operation was successful. I’m still waiting to hear from them. But never mind. I was interrupted when Carer Richard arrived. I calmed myself down and made a brew of Glengettie tea. I was well cheered up after telling Richard about the tumble and how I wasn’t sure if it was a razor cut or if I’d hit my head in the tumble. He said, smilingly, “We will have to send you into a home if you don’t stop having falls!” I laughed along with it, thinking he was joking. The memories of my stay in a ‘home’ after having the stroke came flooding back to me. It was a three-month nightmare! Then again, it’s no picnic living here nowadays. Imprisoned in the flat. Asking for help for me to get to the Doctor’s, dentist and opticians. Begging someone ot ring up and ask if they can do the injections at the flat, as they do for other house-bounders in the block. But they do not have the time to spend ringing the lifts and surgery and are put on hold with, as the last time, getting a; “You are nineteenth in the queue…” message. It’ll be too late for the flu and pneumonia injection soon. So, maybe a home might be a viable option? Then I remembered what happened in the one I was in and changed my mind.
I took two views from the kitchen, and after doctoring them, I tried getting them to save. No chance! I used the Ccleaner and went through the process as instructed, then turned everything back on, having to resign – on Norton, WP, Google and MS.
But would CorelDraw let me save anything? No!
So, I went through a clean-up via Norton. That failed, now the depression was gripping me!
I foolishly thought I’d see what I could delete. After the last cock-up, when I lost over 2000 photos, you think I would never try to do that again, wouldn’t you… & stupidly, I did!
I’ve lost, and don’t ask me how I did, I don’t know, all of today’s photographs I’ve taken! I used some from the WordPress gallery and got so angry with myself.
I reran the CC and got the last graphic to load.
Then, I took some more photos and tried them.
The camera told me the SD needed formatting, so I did. I’d forgotten all about it — it clears the card altogether!
Then, I was so low that I gave up.
Inner hatred and loathing, worrying about my situation and unsolvable problems as I sat here, spiritless.
Then I realised it was nearly time for the 17:30hrs carer to come. It was too late to make a meal, and the anguish had made me hungry for some reason. But I did have a stew of sorts. I sat here stewing over and over; I felt defeated.
Made another brew of Glengettie. And rare resolve came over me. “Sod it!” I’ll look at the WordPress comments, if there are any, and go of the WP reader.
I took this Kodak Tim shot. Then tiredness & weariness dawned. The plan was to get some sleep in before the teatime caller came and then get back on the blog. This plan did not come to fruition! I struggled to get stripped and clambered into the bed. In particular, gave forth pains, complaining as I got in and settled into the new second-hand bed. I struggled further, getting into a pain-free position for sleep. Eventually, I was satisfied that I’d got it as good as I was going to and cleaned up the mess I’d made around the bed, got the overbed table in position with the flat torch, the mobile phone and a bottle of water on it, and climbed painfully into a raise prone position which I thought was okay. It wasn’t! I just got myself deeper into a mess again. Not being able to see or understand the controller did not help much. Within two minutes of my laying down in the snug bed, I’m afraid that kicked off. Annoyed and frustrated, I got out, made the bed and put the overbed table up on it. With was angry at all the leg lifting needed. I was now verging on sinking into the mammoth depression as I got back into the c1968 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. But at least I found , at long last. I had turned on the TV, and the 16:00hrs News was starting, but I soon drifted off into a wonderful oblivion. Heavenly sleep! But it didn’t last long. Five minutes later, turned up, full of the joys of spring. Hahaha! He issued the medications, and I was in the chair for the entire visit, mumbling about needing sleep! Hehehe! He didn’t hang out and left me wishing I could get some sleep! Which I did within minutes of Chris departing, a deep, wonderful, dream-filled at times, but not bad ones. I slept for an hour at least… then, you’ve probably guessed, started off! They didn’t last for very long. But they put an end to any more silly hopes and dreams of getting to sleep… at least until for two hours or so when I managed to nod off back to kip in the £300 second-hand shop purchased, c1966, welt-causing, uncomfortable, not-working, itch-inspirational, crumb-containing recliner. For five minutes, and the return of made his last call. The lad took off the diabetic socks and issued the medications by torchlight. Bless him. I told him to take some nibbles and a cold drink from the fridge. Oh, and a can of Corona beer. I think I nodded away as soon as he’d departed. And stayed in the good-dream-filled slumber for about 3 hours, I woke, unsure of where I was, when it was, and my tormented mind full of self-lambasting, guilt, shame and embarrassment-filled memory recollections from . Worran ‘orrible night!
Shaving while standing in a bowl of antiseptic disinfectant to clean the feet, I could not reach, resulted in a cut-free session! I can’t say the same for teeth cleaning, cracked lips or nose. Oh, and of course, as per usual, , & were leaking the haemoglobin freely.
By the time I’d finished shaving and got myself disentangled from the Dettol-watered bowel, the floor in the wet room was a bloody mess. It reminded me of that bloodied thingy movie in the shower. Psycho, was it called? I used the water in the bowl and tipped it on the floor to brush it down the shower drain on the floor. But I forgot to turn the shower power on to make the drain work. Galore! ensued The first thing was to move the medical stuff away from the water. Naturally, the bending needed set off the final lesion and Harold’s Haemorrhoids bleeding again, just to add to the chaos, pain and increasing frustration that was building up inside me! Then I had to leave the wet room to get to the power switch to turn it on in the hallway… on exiting, I walked into the doorframe, which immediately brought Sweet to life. Crying was considered as an option. As was spitting, cursing and banging my head against the wall. Maybe wailing out as loud as I could… I’m not certain I didn’t actually do that, anyway?
I switched on the power box and hobbled back into the wet room. Gawd Struth! The place looked like an even bigger mess than earlier. The blood was sinking into everything it came in contact with; I just could not move it with the shower spray. So, more pain, I had to use the mop and bucket with bleach and Dettol in the water. But I finally got it looking better. Not properly clean, though. But the domestic help, which was once a week, for 3 weeks. No show for three weeks now. Then, I medicated the delicate areas again. And getting into the protection pants was a smidgen difficult.
She had stiffened up something awful with all the bending and movement she’d been forced into. Just getting the leg in the pants required the use of the picker-upperer, and some cunning tactics had to be employed with this task. I got my bum up against the sink and lowered the pants with the picker-upperer, I needed both hands, so I was taking a bit of a risk if the bum slipped, I was going to go down. The right hand helps lift the leg up high enough, and the left-hand uses the picker-upperer to guide the opening to the foot. On the fifth try, I got the leg in! I had to take a break to recover from the effort. Taking the photo here on the left. Phew! Then getting the left leg in, which was a lot easier in the pants. , was not in such a bad mood. Hehehe! At last, I got the PPs on and slippers on. Only to find out that they had gotten wet and bloodied during the Wet Room Rumble! Aching, hurting, wet, and somewhat peeved off, I checked the taps (faucet) were turned off… and needed another sitting on the . What a change! I cleaned things up yet again. Then, carefully avoiding any shoulder charges on the doorframe, I meandered out to the kitchenette. A thickish fog had descended all over Sherwood, probably further, too. Then I carefully limped to the main (other) room and to the balcony doors, to Kodak Tim the bog from there. It looked a little bit eerie with the blue hue. The Wet Room Farce cost me over 2½ hours, not to mention the pain, blood, and temper not doing my health very good! I didn’t recover properly from the episode. strangely, the tube inserted into poor , calmed down and was less bother for the rest of the day that it’s ever been? Puzzles me this; not complaining!
Sorted the bags out. A new carer arrived.
Made a brew, and started at long last on the blog.
Another new Carer arrived.
A long one! During this, two caregivers called, and I have no memory of them at all! I saw they had signed in the log. Work, albeit messy and error-prone, had been done on the blog. Also, on CorelDraw?
I took these Kodak Tim shots of the wonderful clouds in the slowly darkening sky.
The usual fatigue dawned on me; I’d already got some lamb burgers in the oven. So, I closed down the computer and made myself a much-needed meal. So glad I opted for the lamb.
The catheter day pouch colour was the lightest it’s ever been! But, an hour later when I was getting into the bed… yes the bed, not 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. But the Social people donated an ex-used hospital bed! Initially, kicked off as I settled. Then I worried that I’d left the tap running when I washed the pots, so I got up to check on them, now realising how early I’d settled in the bed; it was not even fully dark out there. So, I got the oven tray I’d missed doing earlier and started to wash it. rang out, and in came Carer Richard. This, as it so often does, left me a smidge—what’s the word? Confused will do. After Richard left, and I was climbing back into the ex-NHS bed, I was in panic mode! Did I turn the taps off? I went to investigate-Cragknangles! The hot water had been left running and ran cold!
I’m hoping for a better day tomorrow!
Hard to believe, but I only managed to find two of them. Sad, innit! Hahaha!,
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
‘s mass of flaked-off skin covered my spectacles, chest, and dressing gown, and left a reasonable deposit on the floor and £300 second-hand shop purchased, c1966, welt-causing, uncomfortable, not-working, itch-inspirational, crumb-containing recliner. kicked off the moment I moved my left leg. But her joint was utilised to help me bend down to clean up my exuviated skin. The pain and efforts resulted in many visits from , , and .
Carer Chris arrived; he did not put the socks on for me because I’d hoped to get the ablutioning done later today – I didn’t. Well, several of them. The day shot by, and I hadn’t even started this blog until Saturday (today). I flaked out far earlier than I usually do. Gave up, ate, and spent hours trying to get to sleep. were rampant. It’s as if they knew I’d drifted off. Sleep? Erm…what’s that then? Hehe!
I keep hoping the Doctor’s receptionist will call to arrange for me to see the medics. Then, if I remember, I can explain my problems to them.
This was likely the worst out-of-it day ever. Thank heavens, I took some pictures. I really cannot recall taking many of them.
I have to see the quack about this. Then again, as last time, a long time ago, when I told her of the situation, she seemed all calm and unconcerned. She mentioned that I’m getting older and have many problems, as do so many other elderly patients. It is to be expected. I almost apologised for mentioning my worries. Hahaha! She’s right, all the same.
Here’s the memory promoters via .
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – You’ll notice that no night bag was attached. This is due to my complicated, infected with brain; and, of course, dying. Maybe some effect from . Possibly in amalgamation with the failed operation, cleverly leaving me with double-vision, and some wonderfully uplifting new skills, like walking into door frames, tripping over unseen objects, and the latest, bending down and hitting left-open cupboard door corners when rushing to turn off hot water tap (faucet), that I so regularly leave to run cold. Hang on. That prompted me to check the taps now! No taps were running, and neither the hob nor the oven was left on… I closed the left-open fridge door! I am so glad I wrote this bit now. My food could have decayed! As I am. Hehehe! Where was I? Oh, yes, the urine nocturnal pouch I forgot to put on. Remembered to ask the last Carer to take off my socks last night.
The Iceland order arrived. The only good thing about the order. They had Heinz pickled Ketchup on special offer. Food! . A close-up of Harry Ramsden’s fish supper planned for tonight, well, tomorrow night’s feast.
.
It was nowhere near as bad as yesterday’s. But coming around afterwards, it took me a long time to get into a condition where I could tackle checking the blog work. It didn’t help that I had made so many errors.
Fantastic, beautiful cloud shots.
The catheter pouch has filled much slower today. But the colour was much worse. Maybe a 5 on the NHS chart. I’ll ask a carer to check it from this photo for me later, which I did. Joanne said it was a class 6!
It’s getting dark now. After another hour or so on this blog, I felt weariness, so I gave up.
Back to the wet room.
Took this photo. I had a pareidoliaising feast with this one. I thought, can others see what I do in it. In the morning, I copied it in CorelDraw and doctored it with a lot more ‘contrast’, and what I could see became more explicit in the resulting picture. Can anyone see them? The teddy bear, ghost, face, or the animal? I love pareidoliaising.
Was the catheter pouch still a deep colour?
The late evening clouds seemed to be determined to come to the fore. You can imagine, methinks, what I saw at first with my left double-vision eye. Haha!
So weary now. I made a quick meal. The bland, pale, undercooked Iceland chicken legs, substituted for the not available thighs, tasted like cardboard would, I imagine. The Heinz beans were also unremarkable. The instant potatoes were very nice, especially with the Heinz pickle-flavoured ketchup.
Took this last shot of the sky. I was pleased with this one.
I managed to find five of them.
I’m yawning now. But once again, would Sweet Morpheous welcome me? NO! Heaven knows how long it took me to nod off. I had a couple of , which jumped me awake, but I soon nodded off again. I did well once I got off, about 6 hours or so. Gleaned by waking up a lot later than usual, at 05:00hrs.
4:00hrs: I woke feeling oddly a little sprightly (for me). As I tried to rise from the c1968, tatty, scruffy, unkempt, virus, microorganism, bug, bacterium, bacillus, germ, parasite producing, uncomfortable, incommodious, unwelcoming and disease-fermenting second-hand, eyesorely-horrendously grungy beige-coloured, £300, charity shop bought, crumb-retaining, moth-eaten, non-working, itch-encouraging, Haemorrhoid Harold testing, catheter tube yanking, recliner. As I did so, gave way on me. The bum bounced down into the recliner, and I got an instant comment from Harold’s Haemorrhoids as they burst, bled and stung. Bad enough, you may think? This is where comedy came into the morning’s equation! I’d fallen on the TV remote, and there I was in the middle of cursing and verging on self-pity as the TV came on. That momentarily confused me, realised what had happened and got some kitchen roll in the Protection Pants, as I now had , in front, along with bleeding at the back! I lost the first hour of the day cleaning up and medicating. I Got the nocturnal catheter pouch off.
Then a dawned. As I was metamorphosed into an old, miserable, grouchy, depressed, frustrated, bleeding, in pain, downhearted, depressed, melancholy, forlorn, glum, demoralised, fed up, down in the dumps, in the doldrums, unnerved, chagrined, miffed, sour, sulky, sullen, surly, saddened, subdued, almost sepulchral Inchy.
But within minutes, a stroke of good luck eased my misery by taking my mind off of it. As I was leaving the wet room, I clouted my head, this time on the door frame! 99% of the time, it will be the right shoulder. Blame can be attached to: ,, , or any of the ailments really. On this occasion, the culprits were, I think, and or . The eyes are worse than ever now, and I’m sure I’ll have kicked the bucket before my turn comes for the operation. But, sorting youngsters out early is more vital. They have the prospect of living many years with their sight adjusted. We long in the tooth old things, must accept this.
This morning, the sky was a glorious blue hue again. My confusion was worse than usual for the next hour or two. I got out of the wet room, put some Dettol Cream on my head, and got on with the waste bag sorting. A wet, warm sensation from the lower regions. I went back to the wet room to investigate.
There was a smidgen more bleeding from Little Inchy, but it’s not worth mentioning compared to the tsunami that was released yesterday. Throughout the day, the bleeding was far, even less than it is usually. Had a wash & shave. Then checked the state of the ankles. No doubt that my was getting better bit by bit.
The areas where the are coming from remain a little rough and red. No pain when the shocks don’t come, and when they do hit, it wakes you if you’re sleeping every time! But the pain lasts for about two seconds, if that. is to blame.
Getting lighter now, I took another Kodak Tim picture from the kitchen window again. The streetlights were off now. As per usual, the end car parking turnaround area had its regular little bit of a mudslide in it again.
Carer Shaquille arrived. I made an order the J Sainsbury’s for next week. Blogging.
Amending, blogging, correcting, blogging-getting more things wrong, blogging… well, you get the message. Tsk!
Carer Kara arrived. She sorted out the banking problem and said she would try to get in touch with Norton about the three times the bill was taken from the debits another time. She ran out of time today. Care Victor, did the last two calls. I took these photos later. Then went into what I believe was a non-apolectic seizure. Not a mind-block. Because it was like blinking, and an hour had gone, but nothing was done whatsoever when I came around back to this miserable existence. After the , I’d discover I’d been doing the blog, mopping the kitchen floor, or started cooking something while out of it. A procedure Hehe! Nothing gets done as if I’d fallen asleep, but I know it wasn’t that. I think. might play a part in this ailment. At times, I come back to the reality of stinging pains in the lower regions from the catheter bag being too full, and I have to get it emptied swiftly, ASAP. The sunset was about over by the time I regained a modicum of brain control, rejoined the menagerie of life on offer, and got back to the reality and struggle of living.
I DIDN’T
I gave up on the blogging.
Made myself a meal. It tasted delicious, too! I could feel my burnt finger on the oven rack and the pain of dropping the hot oven tray onto my foot. Landing on my . But the meal was worth the hassle.
Wrote by Inchie c1953
Search for the meaning of truth,
Look until you’re long in the tooth,
You may find it, Gawd’s strewth,
Facts will have to be dealth…
With those who demand wealth, Humans want for themselves,
Oligarchs will believe in elves!
23:50hrs: Today was not one of my better days: not that I have any better days, of course. Just the odd one, less farcical or more confusing, the odd busy day, seizure day, Out-of-it day. Whoopsiedangleplop and or Accifauxpas days, or a mixture, would be a typical day for me. Today was dominated over all other ailments, but the sheer pain I’m still going through with the Catheter tube in Little Inchie… is more painful for longer periods than it has ever been. Standing up, sitting down, bending, stretching, and hobbling is all agony. Honestly, I’m sitting here typing this, and the stinging pains from Little Inchy are atrocious. I am going to take extra Codeines now; it’s the only thing that touches the pain relief.
I’d risked taking off the PPs in hopes that there would be less irritation pulling on Little Inchie, but the pain just carries on the same. Now, all I want is for the fungal lesion to start bleeding, and I’ll have the right bloody mess to contend with and sort out.
I’d better start the Diary.
04:00hrs: I woke full of life, contented and joyfully… Lying Git!
Urine is even darker.
This is a terrible Kodak Tim kitchen view effort from Inchy. He tried two more, but they were worse. Haha!
Carer Richard arrived. Again, I forgot to ask him to put the diabetic socks on. Tsk!
While starting the blog off, out of the blue, the pain from Little Inchie and the point of the tube entering kicked off. No matter what I tried, the pain persisted. Even took some extra Codeine and Paracetamol, but no effect! It was so bad this time, and persistent with it. Later, I took the PPs off, but it made no difference. It’s wearing me down.
End car park view.
Blogging not going well at all. Concentration crap, and feeling a smidgen sorry for missen.
Carer Selina arrived. She was on a domestic call but didn’t have time to do the hoovering or mopping up, which was all I needed. She insisted on helping me get a wash, shave, etc. It was embarrassing in the extreme. But she was good at the job and knew where and when I needed help, particularly in the getting dressed stage.
I medicated, got the dressing gown on, and she put on the diabetic socks for me. I thank her. Selena took the laundry down for me. Bless her.
Unbelievably, early in the afternoon, the pains still haggling at me, I felt the daily weariness dawn on me again. I made a meal, intending to get some sleep in afterwards.
Carer Marie arrived. She was a little better with her coughing today. I called it the Lurgie, and she said it was called the ’30-Day Cough’. I bet that’s what Sister Jane has got? Marie was still not herself; well, she was. What I meant was she wasn’t her usual bubbly self. But we managed a natter laugh as she tended to me.
I settled in the £300 second-hand shop bought in 1966. Moth-eaten, bedraggled, grotty, cringingly beige-coloured, much-dilapidated, crumb-containing from my nocturnal nibbling, bug-ridden, itch-inspiring, not working recliner, in search of sleep.
Forgetting all about the chips in the oven!
However, I found Sweet Morpheus within minutes. It was bliss… Then Carer Christopher arrived to wake me up. He attached the night pouch, and off he went, all without turning the light on, thoughtful that was. As he was about to leave… … I detected the smell of the burning oven chips! Got up and struggled with the pain from Little Inchie and carrying the night bag to the kitchen. . Too well burnt even for me! I checked each one and rescued three of them to have itch the meal. I substituted some potato chips from a packet and put them on with the three rescued chips. .
The low taste rating was due to the sickly sweet frankfurters I’d bought. Urgh!
I soon polished off fodder, not the frankfurters, though.
I washed the pots, settling down again after getting some sleep. Arrived and immediately noticed the pain I was in. He called someone and told me they thought it might be just an infection. Someone will call to look at it tomorrow. (We’ll see) Kind of him to bother.
Surprisingly, I eventually found sleep. About three hours later, my alarm started. This put an end to any chance of further sleep. I rose, not a little confused as to what time and day it might have been (23:40 hrs).
Nearly falling over the forgotten, I’d got a night bag on the way to the wet room. A bit messy.
I returned to the main room and realised I’d left the nocturnal pouch in the wet room, then emptied it.
I made up the waste bags into one large green one, and although I felt vague, the pains from Littler Inchie seemed less severe. Keep your fingers crossed!
05:10hrs; Got up to get the ablutions done before the Carer arrived. A lousy ablution session… mind you, the evacuation was a good one. Hahaha!
The blogging was another nightmare. mistakes, errors, corrections and frustrations.
It was Sister Jane. Meridian Care had phoned her to see if my Caregiver had arrived yet. Poor Jane is not an early riser—the opposite, actually. She was coughing away; she’s got the Lurgie, too. Naturally, she did not know. I expect a late call this morning. But it doesn’t matter at all to me. We had a natter, and I listened to her problems for a change. She asked why they did not call me. But, to be fair, they may have when I was in the wet room. Also, I’m not sure if my new telephone number has been passed on to them or not. I gave it to the flats Meridian set-up. He came later anyway. No problems.
The pain from Little Inchies Fungal Lesion was horrendous all day long. It didn’t calm down until well late in the night. The Carer saw my state and rang for advice. Said they would send someone to check on it on Monday. We’ll see. – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
Dark, too dark again.
Tried to take a photograph or two of the moon. The first one was fairish, the second warped.
Off to the wet room for a shower, shave and shush.
The preshave medicationalisationing was a fiddly and, at times, painful experience. It was the most painful and medicating session ever! Things have not been right down there since the last nurse replaced the catheter. I don’t need to move, and he hurts! If I could, I’d bottle the pain and send it to the Doctors with a note: “Here you are, try some of this now will you listen to me and help?”
Ablutions were sorted, alarm wristlets and alert bands on, and my ear holes were olive oiled. I struggled to stop stopped and creamed. , Cream on the . Barrier Creamed all around . Then tended to the bruise from the INR blood drain. Doesn’t usually show up this bad The feet & ankles were looking healthier. I turned to leave with the waste bin in hand and traditionally gave the door frame a charge with my right shoulder, setting off a few minutes’ worth of pain from .
Worst Ablution Session in a long time.
Took the made up bin gag to the front door. Can you see a face in the carrier bag? Think of Red Dwarf’s Kryten’s face. I could see it. Hehe!
The carer was late, not that it mattered. Half an hour later, the landline rang out, making me jump. It was Sister Jane. Meridian Care had phoned her to see if my Caregiver had arrived yet.
I concentrated on the hard slog of blogging for hours and hours; just not very successfully. Little Inchie was so painful at times, which did not help me concentrate on blogging. Humph!
Carer Kimberley arrived. She could not give me any painkillers because it had not been 4 hours between calls. So I took some Paracetamols. The pain from poor Little has never been worse. I took off the PPs I put on after washing, hoping it would not irritate things as much. But no, it’s just as bad now. With not having the pants on, I caught myself catching the catheter tube more often; AARGH!
What an amazing hue!
Despite the discomfort and sheer agony from little , the wee was flowing freely.
I added a packet of PP’s to the Asda order for Tuesday. I tried some different kinds this time
Carer Israel arrived while I was struggling to walk into the kitchen and showed his concern for me. That was nice. He rang someone and spoke to them. 111 probably. He told me they said it was likely to be an infection and a nurse would be calling to check it out tomorrow. Bless his cotton socks. He also had a quick sweep-up in the kitchen for me when he saw how painful it was for me to bend, stretch, bend, walk and keep a hold on things. I much appreciated his efforts.
Back on the blog. Then noticed how bright it looked outside, and I took this truly wonderful shot with … I love this one. . Bootiful!
. Zoomed-in shot. . Wider shot.
Burnt to perfection! Just how I love them to be.
. What a magnificent view, From my kitchen window, too, I’m pleased with these two, I went into Smug-Mode, anywho, Not a smudge, blotch or curlicue, Decent sky shots were overdue, Best view, hitherto!
