– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
– – – SO SADLY MISSED – – – –

I woke up (as you do) at 03:35hrs; it was cold. I was cold and getting old, but I was bold and rose from the clutches of the itch-creating, bruise-giving, catheter-tube-tugging, crumb-decorated from my nocturnal nibblings, God-awfully uncomfortable, anti-sleep designed, c1966, second-hand, bought for £300 ten years ago from the charity shop, cringingly-grotty, no longer working, dirty beige recliner, and checked on the condition of the overnight
.
Not so good, a little too dark again. I emptied the pouch and packed it up for disposal. Then realised I had not got the mobile phone with me. With the landline and alarm not working, I aim to ensure it is always with me, just in case of an
, and I go down or trip over something, or into something again this week. I
fetched my up-to-date modern Nokia mobile phone and put it safely in the dressing gown pocket; I even remembered to switch the lock on it.
.
But had to change plans as the need for the Porcelain Throne arose. Off to the wet room, naturally taking Nokia Nelly with me, and of course. As soon as I started hobbling any distance, the terrible twins,
and her newly formed sister,
started the odd bit of botherisationing. The third time,
nearly had me over, luckily I was putting my bum on the WC at the time. Another messy evacuation.
I decided I would have time to get the
done before the Carer came; it was only about 05:30hrs, and the Carers usually come later on weekends. So I did!
No intention of having a shower; why? I’ll tell Ayer… When I struggled to get the diabetic socks off, flakes of skin shot all over the wet room, and are a bugger to get up from the floor due to the non-slip surface. If I had gone in the shower, there was so much skin peeling off it may well have blocked the drain. I did my best to clean the flakes off first thing. But I was not too successful. Cleaned the teggies & rinsed out the blood from the gums, and got on with shaving. I’d been doing well lately with very few cuts and nicks being suffered… but not this morning. As far as I could tell, I accrued five on the neck. Nothing serious, though, and the Brut aftershave dealt with stopping the bleeding well enough.
I sorted through the medications to find something to put on the flaking skin on both my legs, forehead, and chin. I tried the
Sudocrem cream. No good!
The legs, on closer inspection, had gone like chicken legs. And to think, two weeks ago, they looked like elephant
legs? Hehe! Seriously, they were so skinny for a change.
The red on the lower legs is where I scrubbed a bit to get the flaky skin removed. It was not easy to do.
I put some of the cream on the legs and will ask whoever the Carer is if they can manage okay to get the
& diabetic socks back on for me. By the time I cleaned the legs up, they looked a bit better to me.

I was about to sort out which of the many varieties of old men’s nappies I had in stock, but the innards urged me to change plans and get back down post-haste to the WC seat without any delay. So I
did. But the came out was the longest-ever blast of wind?
So, I searched for a pair of pants that might not be as painful as the others. I opted
for the larger ones this time, the Morrisons Unisex type. What a farce it was getting them on! I kid you not!
I utilised the small picker-upperer, trying to take care not to split the fabric of the pants with the sharp end. Again, not easy… in fact, I made such a mess that I was on the verge of leaving the damned pants off! But daren’t, in case I get a bleed from both
at the same time as
.
Well, I did the usual and got my bottom in the corner of the room, in case I lost my balance. (It’s not unknown that I do this often, Haha!). The shower wall grab bar was within easy reach, and the small picker upperer hanging on the bar… so far, so good.
The most dangerous of the legs is the right one. He has,
along with
, and is famous for having me over, the no warning
routine. Now, of course, these are joined by the
, I got him in without too much trouble; however, now the real fight begins.
I have to pray that Chloe and Carole are not going to give way on me, as I have to put my full weight on the right leg and physically lift the left leg up to get it in the PPs!
Not that the left leg has more problems; he has less than the right leg. Only
and
to cope with. But, also, it was him that got shot, and bending him is even more painful! I haul him up and try to hold him there while reaching for the short picker-upperer to hold open enough room to get the foot in the pants.
,
,
, and 
, 
Daily complicatedness, don’t yo
u think?
That
is because it is! Particularly Today! I managed, in response to a mini-leg-dance from the right leg, I tore the PP right down and did consider crying at the time. I had to get another pair of PPs and start all over again… Then I noticed all the dried skin from the legs and head that had fallen during my losing first-round battle with
getting the PPs on. What a mess! However, getting the fresh PPs on did go much better… just as painful, mind you.
Then, the cleaning up of the skin, blood and bits of torn PP had to be sorted.
This took me ages. I got the waste and rubbish sorted. A big bag was made up, a modicum of cursing took place, and an iota of self-pity may have escaped.
With all the flipping, kerfuffling and cleaning up, I think the session took me well over two hours! Fortuitously, the Carer arrived late, it being the weekend, so I didn’t miss her coming. I got the dressing gown on and made a brew of Glengettie at long last.


Well, fancy that!

gave way again as I was taking the mug back into the kitchenette. Another chunk of luck here: I was in the hallway when it happened, so I had the benefit of the walls nearby to slide down slowly on my way to the floor. Thus avoiding any nasty injury. And, it wasn’t too far for me to crawl to get to the c1966, £300 charity shop bought, second-hand, wincingly grotty, beige coloured, not working, crumb-covered from the nocturnal nibblings, itch-making, uncomfortable, virus-breeding, easy-to-fall-out-of, recliner, to haul my rhinoceros type body back up its skinny, frail legs again.
For several long, uninterrupted hours, I got on with blogging with the usual errors and mistakes in abundance.
Then the innards gurgled, and wind escaped from my rear end. So, off to the
I hobbled.
Another variation in this evacuation. I’ve had a couple like this before, which proved as stinky as the earlier ones!
Still, a change is as good as a rest, as some idiot said. Winston Churchill, I think it was who said it?
I’ve missed some earlier photographs and tales off! Sorry about that; I’m still miffed and upset at the struggles I had with the
, and associated frustrations
and agonies that I had to contend with… and will all need doing again tomorrow!
I took this one on the right of the morning view. Eerie, misty and typical November
weather for Nottingham.
Grateful Thanks to the Community Nurses who sent me the boots yesterday. I found this morning that they had also not only sent the
, but fresh Diabetic socks as well!
Which,
made a fantastic job of fitting on for me. Thanks, mate, a great job well done! As you can see in the photograph above left, Israel’s fitting was so good that I could, with his help, get the slippers on top of the strappings. I was very impressed!
Flying around seagulls caught my eye a little earlier through the balcony windows. I went out to investigate. I believe they were all hunting for birds, rats and squirrels to eat for tea. I watched their ploy for an hour; it was fascinating. I could see doves and magpies Fluttering into the trees and bushes to hide. The gulls circled continuously, and when a chap with a little dog appeared, some of them dived down and circled the dog and man? Then, a larger group of the gulls circled where a dove had gone into the trees near the gravel path up the hills. I’m sure I saw the dove in the beak of one of the now noisier than ever gulls as it carried it away, up into the trees in the park, with a couple noisy gulls chasing after it, after a taste of the dove no doubt?
The centre-right picture shows some gulls on the ground; they must have spotted a squirrel or the like?
Riski should send them back to the seaside, coming here eating we land-lubbers birds! Hehe!.
Here is the answer to the little puzzle. I don’t mind admitting, I thought at first, no, no, they’ve made a mistake here, that number 29 can’t be right at all! Oh, no! Finally, I got it! I’d not noticed that only the one cherry was on the bottom line you see. Me becoming an Arithmophobic in my old age, didn’t help me. Took me hours to work it all out. Tsk!
Carer Taslini came. By then, I was well tired and confused.
She got her name on the Christmas list and will collect it later. All good.
FOOD, GLORIOUS FOOD!
Potatoes – slow oven cooked.
Cut in halves, flesh taken out into mixing bowl.
(A certain amount [quite a lot] fell on the floor).
Unfortunately, when it came
to seasoning the spuds, I only had white cheddar extra strong cheese, now out of my favourite, usual Red Leicester Cheese. Added some sea salt and basil on with the mixture, oh, and some absolutely gorgeous not butter from Flora. Mini Hog pork pies and delicious Dutch mini tomatoes.
Taste-Rating: 8.8/10.
After consuming every bit of the meal, I went to get the washing up done.
I thought I’d try again to get some decent photographicalisations of the
evening’s dusky view. But decent ones I couldn’t do.
Although the second one was not as bad as the first one that I took. They both came out lighter than they seemed to the naked eye… but with my eyes affected by
,
, Saccades Sandra, and
it’s not surprising.
Typing this reminded me of my upcoming visit to the QMC, EENT, to have the eyes checked that have been done to correct the Cataracts in both. I think they may then explain the procedure/stroke treatment (Laser again?) to tackle
in my
left eye. I checked on the calendar; It’s on Friday the 1st of December. Tuesday, the 21st of November, is the first of four visits to the Audio Clinic on the Ropewalk. has arranged the lifts with
to get me there and back. Then I’ll have to make sure I remember to ask
to do it again three more times for me, and also arrange a lift there and back for the QMC ENNT visit; life’s a bugger at times.
Getting the ablutionings and dressed into outdoor clothing is a mammoth task for me nowadays.
Getting the catheter in the optimum position is vital to avoid crushing and, essentially, scarily from
.
Remember to empty the
before leaving. I’m not drinking anything before going out to avoid the pouch filling and having nowhere to empty it in private! Cause it will mean the removal of the trousers to get at it, and having to struggle to rearrange the removed
, to protect poor little
when it goes back on… Remember to take the hearing aids with me to the Ropewalk and all spectacles
with me to the EENT. January radiology at the City Hospital, then the FND assessment at the Mental Health Nuthall Hospital in Bulwell is coming up…
I’m going to stop talking about these problems… I’ve only depressed and scared myself now! Hehe!
I sank down onto 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, bacillus encouraging, incommodious, Haemorrhoid Harold testing, recliner, in search of Sweet Morpheus. I couldn’t find him!
started tormenting me straight away. I really didn’t realise just how many things I had done wrong in the past. Mistakes, wrong choices made, and lamentable decisions I’d taken and made. at one point, had me believing that getting shot the first time was my own stupid fault! He would not ease up, so I clambered out of the recliner and hobbled into the kitchen to put the
kettle on. I tried to take a close-up shot from the kitchenette window of the housing on view. I really tried to hold things steadily and this photo is the outcome. In the morning, when I put this on here, it looked to me like a type of weird art from? Maybe I could call these failed photos, PNP? Hehehe!
Photographics?
Giving Up Might Be A Wise Idea?