03:00hrs: I stirred into semi-life, with a lightness not felt for a long time.
Which died off, as soon as I moved the legs (Arthur Itis), got to stand up (the crippling pains from the uncut toes and feet), and the instant I made a move towards the EOGPB (Emergency-Overnight-Grey-Plastic-Bucket), Anne Gyna joined in with the other, ‘Let’s Have a bash at Inchcock’ ailments. Even stood still, the feet and toes hurt, and Anne Gyna was steadily giving me more increasingly bothersome stabbing pains. Not a good start to the day!
But it got worse, so not to worry. Which turned out to be a totally different model to all of yesterdays leaks. It was a niggly WSSULL (Weak-Squirty-Spraying-Uncontrollable-Long-Lasting) style. Which kept me stood at the bucket, for far too long for the feet and toes, which started to give me even more discomfort. Humph! Silver Lining Search Results: Duodenal Donald was nice and calm. I could not see any bleeding from Little Inchies fungal lesion during the wee-wee.
I limped to the wet room, taking the bucket with me for emptying and sanitising. No sooner in the room, and the Porcelain Throne requirements arose. I took a photo of the poor-legs and feet. Still showing great etiolation, and pallidity. I felt as if they should be aflame, smoking! Such was the physical anguish they were giving me. Maybe when I’ve taken the painkillers with the mug of tea, things will calm down a bit. I hope!
And what a change in the evacuation department this morningtide! There appears to be a battle going on for control, between Constipation Konrad (Easily the winner over the last few days), and Trotsky Terence, who is launching a counter-attack with this one! Quick, not so painful, but, oh how messy and pongy! Also needing much more cleansing and cleaning was required after the affair was completed.
I got the sorting-out done, then sterilised the EOGPB. Washed and next, got myself (oh it was a struggle) to the kitchen. Shuddering-Shoulder-Shirley kicked off, but Anne Gyna steadied a lot. Swings & Roundabouts, you know!
Took the medications, and made a brew. Then to the computer, where much work awaited me. With the Morrison order coming twixt six>seven o’clock, I worked as fast as I could manage, to give myself time to get the Ablutions done, before the arrival of the fodder.
I got an email from Morrison’s arrive. They have made some substitutions. Instead of Sweet potato battered fritters (one of my favourites), they sent McCain shake, shake sea and salt fries? Which will be no good for me, The freezer will accept no more frozen food. Also, I was well pleased to see when I put the order in, that they had some orange concentrated liquid wash in stock, and ordered one. It wasn’t really needed, but the chance to get my favourite orange-scented one was too good to miss for me. Well, I missed it! They sent Lychee & Passionfruit as a substitute. Eurgh! Gits! The worst thing for me was the frozen McCain substituted, which wasn’t even battered, or sweet potato that I had ordered! Gits!
I tended to the ablutions with a bit of haste. A stand-up job, no time to get a shower now. The pins were still playing up. I’m not sure if it was the lighting in the wet room, or the legs had regained some colour, but my guess would be the lighting. A few dropsied, but no toe stubbing this time around. All sorted, freshened up, olive-oiled the ear-holes, Germolided and Germolened things in need, Saccades Sandra drops in the yes, Phorpain gelled Arthur Itis’s knees, clothes on and back to the computer.
I got the Sunday blog updated and sent off. Then went on Pinterest, WordPress Reader and TFZer Facebooking. During which, the landline burst into sound and flashed. It was the Morrison driver.
The intercom would not work for him. Hello, that’s Iceland on Saturday, and now Morrisons? No one has said they have had any problems… mind you, I haven’t seen anyone have I, apart from Josie, and she does not have food delivered.
I had to get up on my poor pins, to go down to let him in. We came back up with two of us in the left! A dodgy risk that!
Worra day I’m having! We got to the flat, and as he was dropping the stuff in the foyer of the apartment, I mentioned about the fritters substitute. He searched the bags and told me they were not frozen ones. Like dim-pathetic-clot, I said that they would be alright then. Humph! Not the product ordered, not sweet potato, not battered, and they need the seasoning shaking in, before cooking; and I agree to take them!
As gullible idiots go, I reckon I am the cream of the crop! I forgot all about the Lychee & Passionfruit scented cleaner crap! I even gave thanked the driver with a can of G&T. But, the substitutes, and intercom not working, was not his fault, so I hope he enjoys it.
The substituted fries looked a little complicated to cook.
I got the delivery into the kitchen a bag or two at a time, and slowly stored away. I’d forgotten I’d ordered the hot dog roll, but did manage to cram the bread thins into the freezer. It took me a good while.
I spread the cleaning stuff about, some in the wet room. Others in the junk-room 2, and others under the sink in the kitchen.
I opted, in my mind anyway, to have the hot dog sausages with the rolls, and try these crap looking McCains, what a name? Shake-shake Fries, sea salt & cracked black pepper, things with the links later for lunch. With some tomatoes, maybe. We’ll see.
As I was clearing away the mess, I realised just how tatty the kitchen floor looked. I thought it had to be cleaned now! So, I did. But first, I was so impressed again with the view, I took a snap or two of it.
Perhaps subconsciously, to delay the pain of doping the mopping, that I knew was coming? Tsk!
A few months ago, and this task would not have been considered a problem in the least. But now, it was a mammoth undertaking for this overweight, short, plump, pain bearing, lack of confidence-ridden, depressed, fed-up, bald, bespectacled, lonely, confused, memory-challenged, zeyde!
It had to be said! Hehe! By the time it was done, I felt tired, done-in, the ailments were giving me some hassle, and yet, I felt a bit of pride and self-satisfaction, well almost, in getting it done. Smug-Mode-Adopted through the pain! Hehehe!
I took some extra Codeine 30g and got on with creating this blog. The poor chimes rang out, and it was ages before I struggled to get to the door, the feet were terrible now, and all the bending doing the mopping up. Back Pain Brenda had joined in with the ailments attack. Hahaha!
This was not good, Saccades Sandra was so bad now, I had to give up on the computing altogether. Shirley kept on with the occasional shudderings, and Dizzy Dennis visited. My concentration has gone now. Bitterly disappointing, I wanted to get some more graphics done in advance. The mopping up I expect has caused the problems. But not necessarily, things are bad at this moment.
I’m going to try and get some nosh, really struggling to see for typing. I may be back later. Who knows? Tsk!
Got the fodder prepped and served up.Hot dogs with tomatoes, onions, gherkins, the odd, weird fries, a lemon mousse, and two apple pies, and a mug of orange juice. Flavour Rating 6/10, those substituted by Morrison’s fries were not very good. But everything else was!
Got the pots washed, took the evening meds, creams, potions and lotions applied to various locations on the grossly-over-stomached, spindly-legged body, and got down in the £300, second-hand, c1968, cringingly-beige-coloured, inoperable, rusty, rickety, recliner. No longer working, after Zyrophobia suffering, supercilious Brother-in-law Pete, broke it when flat-searching, finding and taking my valuables, while I was the hospital after the stroke.
Dizzy Dennis joined me as I was making my mind up, whether to fall asleep trying to the Clint Eastwood in ‘The Dead Pool’ or ‘The Equaliser’ with Denzel Washington, two of my favourite movies, both showing at the same time – Humph! Not that it really mattered, there wasn’t a cat-in-hells chance my staying awake that late into the morning! Humph, again!
But I kept nodding off, swapping between the films, drifting off every time the adverts came on, waking up, nodding-off… What a pillock!
TTFNski, folks.
Nottingham’s Pensioner, with one or two ailments, and a mind and memory, he has little control of nowadays. Ah, well!
A day of mayhem. Officialdom, form-fillings, phone calls, emails, texts and sheer panic and fretting. Duodenal Donald had free-range on me (And still had as of Saturday morning – which is when I got around to doing this template). Memory, brain, gone. Sorry that it’s not detailed at all, just too busy getting my self all in a kerfuffle with authorities communications, panic attacks and unwanted raging Thoughts-Storms. Many incidents missed off, though memory lapses and some photographs (I think) disappearing from the SD card, which often helps memory when I see them, but not today!
Friday 24th April 2020
Icelandic: Föstudaginn 24 Apríl 2020
05:30hrs: Got up. Tired and weary still.
Greeted by even more mail that had been delivered, and demanded attention and replies to.
Confusion reigned in the head.
Missed morning medications as I tried to make some sense of the mail. Nottingham City Homes, Pension Company, Zoom, Doctors further instructions, Sorting out the none-recognition of my National Health Number by the Government, and others!
Deana called in reply to my message on her phone. More questions to clarify the situation. (I’ve never had so many questions and queries in my life). She’ll try to find out about the NHS number, and get back to me.
I fell head over heels in the kitchen, thanks to Neuropathy Nigel’s nerve ends failing in the leg this time! Took a while to sort my self out, shook up a bit. Made tea had a sit-down but still kept reading official letters, failing to fully understand them of course. Surprised with the instructions that I must stay indoors for twelve-weeks minimum from date of the letter.
Can’t remember it, but I must have taken these shots from the kitchen early on?
Copreldrawing, blog updating, all with Duodenal Donald accompanying me. Kept swigging the pathetic Peptac.
So much I cannot recall. The later stuff seems to have sunk in a bit better. It doesn’t help when I cannot read my own scribbled notes.
Emails, comment, messages, Facebook? I had problems with CorelDraw, not performing some things. Selecting two items and pressing E and C would normally do an automatical Centering up and down. I had to save, turn-ff and reload again several times. I think I recall this, cause it took so long and I was getting uptight about having little time to get things done and other things needed doing… Not happy, and Donald was so persistent.
Got the meal prepping done, beef (boil in the bag) from the saucepan, into the pan with the garden peas, chips in the oven. (I should not have had chips with Donald as he is, but I think it was a way of sticking two fingers up at him?)
I spent many an hour going back to try and sort out the paperwork. But got nowhere with it. Other than to confuse my self even more.
I hope the other tenants are doing a bit better with their plans and responses. My current look at it, then put in a pile to be examined again later and forgetting about them, is not the best idea.
I might have made an Accifauxpa here, or not. But I think these photos might be from an earlier post, that somehow in my confusion, I have made up again. Sorry.
I tried a few times to make sense of, and understand all the bumf in the NHS letter, and the none recognition of my NHS number which is preventing me getting any food parcels, or going on the At Risk register.
I never expected old age to be like this!
Tried to do an Iceland order.
Got this message up. This meant repeatedly running into the kitchen to check the food and back sharpish in case I missed getting the order in. It indicated I had 45-minutes to wait.
Got fed-up and started making an order up, on the Iceland site. Still kept checking on the fodder. Got sent to a different page when I was admitted, but it kept details, so checked and confirmed the order. Earliest available was on Monday, 12 > 1400hrs. Fair enough.
Cay Walk model, Warden Hauptsturmfhüreress Deana rang back later, the people in charge at where the NHS number was not recognised, were going to contact me sometime in the future, but not this week of course.I don’t know of anyone else that have had their NHS number not recognised, of the 400 odd residents here, nor did Deana. I could get depressed you know! But, being as I am already, I didn’t bother. Haha!
The nosh, was absolutely grand! These oddly named ‘Naturally Imperfect Chips’, are tasty but not fatty at all. The braised beef in onion gravy, was enough to stop me bothering ordering any again, tiny and not tasty! The sugar snap peas, perfect! Tomatoes tasty! The cheeses were alright. The apple, mushy, dry and bland with a tough skin. The plain yoghourt was thin, but passable with maple syrup stirred into it. A 6/10 rating.
As for after getting down and settled, I’m not sure what happened. I recall waking at 21:30hrs, and turning off the TV.
01:20hrs: I woke with Duodenal stinging away, and I was fretting over the Diabetes course link not working later on. To my feet, and the regular wee-wee was taken, another WUPT (Weak-Unwilling-Painful-Trickling) variety.
I was reminded of my sitting on and breaking the new headphone last night, as I spotted them looking in a sad state hanging off of the £300, second-hand rickety-recliner. Well, they lasted about four months, I think.
I made a brew, took the medications and had a look for the latest (Yesterdays only found, too early for today).
Cleaned and disinfected the emergency wee-wee bucket, had a quick wash, and onto the computer to start the updating of the diary.
Which was cut short by the arrival of the Porcelain Throne being needed, and off to the wet room I limped. What a change this time. The pain was far less, but the evacuation was so sticky and messy, runny, and had an aroma more fouler than yesterdays!
Pressed on with the blog (for several hours), got it finished and sent off the links via email. Then on Pinterest, WordPress Reader and next, The TFZer Facebooking.
Had to make a couple of graphics for today’s post.
Back to the Porcelain Throne for a second visit. Exactly like the first one, but I think the pain was a bit less this time. Duodenal Donald was giving some stick still.
Handwashing was done, rung and hung.
Had a bit of off-time on U-Tube, then got the ablutions sorted out. At a cost!
Whatta-a-farce! It suited this Klutz, come farceur Inchcock down to the ground, ideally! But at least the ablutions went differently than usual. With new Whoopsiedangleplops and Accifauxpas. Oh, Yes!
On getting in the room, the third use of the Porcelain Throne was needed. Messy, smelly and not much evacuated.
Cut gum on the toothbrush. Dropped toothbrush and then razors several times.
Dropped the mouthwash bottle! (It burst open after landing on my foot!)
Bent down, holding onto the sink, to get the plastic bottle, and the squashing caused Little Inchies fungal lesion to start bleeding. So, more hassle to sort out!
Bigger farce than the ablutions, I tried to get on the Zoom site, for the Diabetes course. As they (Ingeus) said, at 09:30hrs.
So, I downloaded it, where to I have no idea, but the screen stayed the same, other than telling me ‘The meeting has not started” and the sad Ingeus people told my to log-on at 09:30hrs for the 10:00 session? The message kept repeating and putting cookies on the computer every 5 seconds? Pressed load and run again. Nothing changed. Totally lost now, I left it running.
Tried again, and thought I was getting somewhere. Zoom wanted to know the meeting I needed to get into. No idea what to put, so I typed in Ingeus prediabetes. But it would not allow any spaces in the block. So, I pressed to join.
This led me to a page wanting a password, email, date of birth etc. So I filled them in.
Well fancy that, I got thrown out for Invalid meeting ID. (3,001).
I think I recall mentioning three or four weeks ago when they first contacted me about this conference type meeting, that I thought, with Ingeus involved, it’s not going to go right. Huh! Spot on Inchock!
The phone chirped, and it was Caroline (I think), from the direct support team. At the time, I was in pain from Duodenal Donald and was up all uptight about the Porcelain Throne visits and my not getting through to Zoom for the meeting.
I went on the Zoom site again, and realised that my stupidity knew in limits! Either they had changed the day to the 23rd, or (more likely) I’d put it down for the wrong day on Google Calendar! I could and do cringe at myself!
I’m not sure how it got it, but I am now a member of Zoom?
Just think; I’ve got this to go through again now, in the morning! Hoggledruidisations!
I really am getting wee’d off with myself. What a Chaleria of a Nebech!
I hobbed and wobbled off to get Porcelain Throne visit number five, I think. Huh! Constipation Konrad has been instantly replaced with Trotsky Terence!
Well, I discovered I’d got spots and blemishes all over the body!
Both wrists? This may be the new alert wristbands material used alergy?
I washed and medicated certain delicate areas after the visit to the Throne.
Incidentally, the reconstructed taped together little clock I broke, twice, is still working! A tiny speck of success in my accident-prone, ill-fated, pointless existence! Of course, any iota of victories I may have always fallen under the umbrella of the ‘It didn’t really matter anyway’ section. Tsk! But they do help keep me just this safeish-side of the ‘Losing all hope’ barrier.
Got the nosh sorted out, I’d have prefered getting the brain and mind sorted out, but why dream of the impossible? (Blimus, I’m going bonkers here – what a wassuck!
I was a little concerned in my choice of having the maple marinated lamb steaks, with Duodenal Donald playing up. But my spirits after making one of my more-stupid cock-ups over the timing of the Diabetes meeting, and getting myself all heck-up, I was in an even lower than earlier. So stayed with the lamb idea, which may prove to be a nasty mistake later. But was I bovvered? Nae!
I sorted the meal prepping. Got the lamb in the oven, they are thin slices so only need twenty minutes to cook. Checked the mushrooms were cooked and added them to the can of curried beans, with a splash of hickory. By then, the meal was ready to be served up. Smashing! Taste rating, 7/10.
Enjoyed the meal no-end. Up to now, no reactions from Duodenal Donald, he’s not any worse than he has been all day.
I got the things washed up. I imagine my guilt at getting things all mixed up again earlier on, made me decide to get some cleaning done, for I knew how painful it would be. Maybe not precisely self-flagellation (perhaps purgation, though), but my indeterministic frame of mind thought it a good idea.
I got some black bags made up and limped to the waste chute. I trapped my hand in the chute and broke the elastic band on the alarm alert bracelet. But the alarm itself bounced away from the chute and landed on the floor. I cannot remember feeling more relieved for months. Phew! If it had gone down to the bins twelve floors below, it would probably have been the deciding factor in my wish to carry on. But, there it was, in the middle of so many things on my mind; my Zoom cock-up, Duodenal Donald now getting worse, the confused state of mind, came a little good luck!
I almost cheered up, turned to leave the waste cubby-hole, and gave myself a crackingly painful toe-stubbing on the door edge! As I limped, slightly more than usual back to the flat, the good luck that I was over the moon about minutes earlier, faded.
I planned to get the kitchen floor mopped up next, but I’d left the tap running while I was out, and no hot water was available. (Had this been a ploy from me, to avoid the cleaning? I don’t know!) I decided to boil the kettle and clean the floor edges of the cupboards by hand. Surprising myself at getting back up on my feet each time, with less bother than I usually have? Life is so confusing, especially to the already confused!
Duodenal Donald was getting worse, a lot worse. So I lamely gave up on the cleaning and took the evening medications, with gulps of the ineffective Peptic medicine. I dare not take any extra painkillers with the others, so gritted my teeth instead. (Hahaha!)
I settled to watch some TV. Surprisingly, with it being so early yet, I nodded off into the land of bliss! Which was broken, by the ‘Klunk-Bang-Tap-tap-Knocking’, coming from somewhere above the flat? I was niggled at this breaking my precious sleep at first. Then realised how early it was still, so irked, but not worried about the ‘Klunk-Bang-Tap-tap-Knocking’, not this early. It might have been Herbert doing his models, a repairman or anything, it didn’t matter. I was the oddity for trying to sleep so early, to catch-up on missed kip.
So, I got up, pants on, and tried to do some more cleaning up. The door buzzer rang out. It was the catwalk model, Obersturmführeress Warden Deana, just checking, that was nice. Pleasant to have a little Socially distanced chinwag.
I got back into the night attire (Well, stripped off). And into the £300, second-hand, not-working, rickety recliner. Pulled the bobble cap over the eyes, and went in search of some rest, sleep, sweet Morpheous…
The ‘Klunk-Bang-Tap-tap-Knocking’ started again and was persistent this time. All one could do was to try and put up with it. Eventually, it stopped, but by then, I was so agitated about not sleeping, it was hard to get any.
* “Life is so pleasant, calm, gentle and trouble-free.”
From approximately midnight, I had Thought Storms aplenty. Broken by a precious few nod-offs, they were only a few minutes long, the instant I jumped awake, it was as if I had been searching in my slumber, for worries, concerns, and fears, building them up for when I woke, and the soul-destroying Brain-Storming recommenced!
04:30hrs: I woke for the umpteenth time, and all signs of mental aggravation had gone. I was no longer bedevilled! Not knowing why this suddenly occurred was a mystery, but of no interest to me, I was just so pleased that they had. In fact, it put little life into me as I cheered-up.
Getting out of the second-hand, £300, c1968, not-working-broken-down, most cringeworthily sickening beige-coloured, rickety recliner, has not been done with such ease for many a month. I should have known better than to let myself get carried away! Good fortune, for me, is transmundane.
As I gained some semi-balance and was reaching for the four-pronged walking stick, and Dizzy Dennis had a go at me. (He’s not attacked me so ferociously for a while, but he made up for it this time!) I floundered and fortuitously fell back in the chair, via hitting my bum and piles on the way down against the arm. By ‘ecky-thump, I felt that! It took me a few minutes to gather myself, get over the shock, and then I tried (successfully) again to get up on my plates (feet).
Off to the kitchen, a little slower than usual, cause I didn’t trust Dizzy Dennis an iota. He’s a most cunning ailment. He’s on a par with Nicodemus’s Neurotransmitters as top-dogs in the catching me out at the most optimum, dangerous timing, to cause me the greatest bother! The Swine!
I got the updating finished for the Sunday post and sent off. Nicodemus was particularly kind to me this morning. Then got the link Emailed. On to TFZer Facebooking, I always enjoy that. Spent an hour or three on it. Next, on the WordPress Reader section. Some great reads and photographs on there!
I had a quick check on the latest sad news from the virus.
The landline burst into sound and flashed. I thought it might be the Phlebotomy Nurse calling to say she would be in tomorrow and give me the time scale. It was Sister Jane calling, bless her.
During the socially-distanced chinwag, she told me to write clearly. I mentioned the problems that are stopping me doing so. She suggested I have plenty of time on my hands, and I should learn shorthand. Hehe!
She and Pete are waiting for their free food parcel to arrive. Jane is very disappointed with the last one. They gave her amongst the many freebies, instant coffee, they use filter coffee, mentioning with a smiling voice; ‘Of course, you don’t get a free parcel do you’ (Muffled laugh, suspiciously heard!).
She mentioned that she had been doing some cleaning. Pointing out she realises I don’t, and I should get more exercise done. After the conversation, I felt about as much use as a chocolate teapot. Hahaha!
The doorbell chimed, and I found a pot of butter on the carpet outside. Obviously the work of Angel Jenny again. Bless her cotton socks!
Some tip-tapping noises were keeping me company from somewhere, as I made a brew of Thompsons Punjana tea, and then made a start on this blog.
Within a few hours, I’d got as far as here, and the need for CorelDraw graphicalisationing grew more urgent, as I realised I was out of page-top, Thoughts and Day graphics all together! So, with the tap-tapping now accompanied by some clump-banging, I visited CorelDraw ad started what turned out be a marathon session. But only managed two of the six graphics I needed to do. Humph!
I went to make a brew of Glengettie and pictured a man and his dog.
The intercom rang forth, it was the Iceland delivery. It’ll or nothing innit? Haha!
I put a can of plonk in the hallway for the driver. He was very chuffed! Which pleased me, too.
I made a start on the problematic, complicated and time-consuming task of getting the stuff in the cupboards fridge and freezer.
The doorbells chimed out again. I was a little miffed at being disturbed in the middle of mess sorting out the groceries; but thought it might be the other pair of trousers they have not delivered yet, so my spirits raised just a tad.
It was Josie returning the tray and things from the nosh. She said she enjoyed it and was, at last, isolating herself. Both made me feel good for her.
Back in the kitchen, and crammed the stuff, after reorganising the things a little. Plenty of nosh in now. Bleach might be a problem, but not yet, I’ve now got a bottle and a half left, so things are not anywhere near desperate.
I got the oven warming up. Then pondered on what to have for the nosh, my choices were multitudinous. Hahaha!
I thought I’d have some of the oddly called ‘Naturally Imperfect Chips’ from Iceland, chips. This will mean more room in the freezer. Some cooked meat of some sort; or sausages will make a little room in the fridge for me.
It really is jam-packed in there now.
I nipped to have a wash, nothing serious, like an ablutions session, mind.
Crumps and botherations! I knocked the clock off of the toilet top, and guess where it fell?
I assume you’ve guessed right. Straight down into the water in the water in the WC. Grrr! So very-most annoying!
I got the chips in the oven and sorted out the nosh ingredients available to use. Then I made a start on one of the most flavourful noshes of the year so far! Inspired, I was. Mind you, I kept changing my mind of what meat to have, ending up with one of the turkey sausages.
A wholemeal cob, a bottle of spring water, a terribly crumbly tasteless apple (One bite was enough to convince me to bin it!), and a Skinny Bar nougat (Tasty) were the extras.
The main plateful was the best bit. ‘Naturally Imperfect Chips’ I seasoned with black pepper and vinegar, the Netherlands-grown Piccalo tomatoes were fantastic considering how out of season they were, sea-salted. I used some of the frozen petit pois for the first time and added some demerara sugar. I was not too impressed with the peas, but everything else on the plate went down fine and flavoursome. A rating of 9.26/10!
I was so impressed with my effort, I took shots of it from different angles on the tray. Did you notice the last picture had something added for an extra treat? Hahaha!
I ate it all up (Well, not the crap apple) masticating so slowly and savouring it. Apart from the fruit being thrown away, I ate and enjoyed the lot. It was about the time I made a decent meal!
Into the kitchen to do the washing up. I spotted two youths on the bottom field, a skateboarder and a cyclist, so my hackles-lifted. I’m not sure if they were rolling spliffs, cigarettes, or taking crack, but I took this decentish shot of them. When I viewed it on the camera, I realised the Saccades Sandra as playing and jumping about my focussing, shame! I used this shot as a background and made a Thoughts graphic in the morning.
I was determined to get some sleep tonight. (Huh!)
Took the medications, and as I got settled into the £300, second-hand recliner, I soon realised I needed to use my hands to feel my way safely into the seat. (Luckily, Nicodemus’s Neortramsmitters’, and Shaking Shaun didn’t visit me st the time) Saccades Sandra was bad tonight, and I could not use the ploy of watching TV to help me get to sleep. Getting the focus right, too bothersome and headache encouraging. Then Toothache Tim kicked off. This was not going to be a peaceful night, methought. Sadly, I was right! I eventually got myself into a semi-comfortable position. Pulled the woolly hat over my eyes, and prayed that the Thought-Storms would not start.
The landline phone rang and flashed. I fumbled to get my spec’s on and get to the phone in time. It was my new Phlebotomy nurse. She will be calling in the morning between 0800hrs and 12:00hrs, to take the Warfarin Blood for testing. I thanked her, and returned to the chair, noticing that Saccades had eased off, and I could focus easier again. Which was good!
For some unknown, but pleasant reason, the Thought-Storms did not arrive. Which, on the face of it, was magnificently encouraging thing.
But the IBON (Inchcocks-Bundle-of-Nerves), anxiety and agitation attacks started the moment I got back down in the recliner! I really cannot recall how many times I struggled up, to go and check on something, taps (faucets) lights, oven, wet room sink, etc. over the next few hours. By the time I dropped of, the physical efforts and mental fatigue helped me nod-off.
03:15hrs: I woke up, with the theme tune, “Life, is the name of the game, and I wanna play the game with you” ringing in my head? It took me a while to recall where the tune was from.
It was the introduction to Bruce Forsyth’s Generation Game. What brought this to mind, I don’t know. But I do remember watching it all those years ago and being amazed at how much work Bruce put into it to make it work. My favourite Game Show of them all on TV.
On the radio, it was Just a Minute, with host Nicholas Parsons, Clement Freud, Kenneth Williams, Derek Nimmo, and Peter Jones, they were my preferred panellists. Two shows I hated to miss, and the reason for my buying my first tape recorder and DVD. Ah, they were the days!
I seem to remember getting home and putting the motorbike away in a rush, to get in and my new colour TV (Wigfalls 3/6d [17½p] a week rental) on to watch it. Happy Days! The Larry Grayson and Jim Davidson efforts at hosting the later shows, were as expected, abysmal. I just thought I’d mention it, like.
As I lay there, hearkening back to my more confident, happy and in good health days, the stomach-churning burst into life. Thus the one thing that mattered (I thought at the time), was to escape the £300, second-hand, none-working, c1968, rickety recliner, catch my balance and stick, to get to the wet room lickety-split! Which, I surprised myself in doing quickly and accident-free, Slight swagger mode adopted (Temporarily).
I shall not go into too much detail of the terrible, trying, tantamount to agony-ridden evacuation. But Constipation Conrad had the upper-hand in the battle. I was on the Throne for about 20-minutes. The crossword book as tackled. Blood flowed. And all with the one line of the ‘the Generation Game’ milling about in my head. Hehe!
Then, as I made my way to the kitchen, Toothache Terence kicked off. Soon to be joined by Dizzy Dennis and Shaking Shaun. And extra Cocodamol was taken with the Codeine and other medications. For about five minutes, the mind-haze and memory loss had me worried. I was so close to pressing the alarm wristlet, thinking what can tell them, how do I explain what I’m going through without sounding potty? I was so pleased when things seemed suddenly to go back to my usual, merely semi-confused state. Yet, puzzled to how quickly and abruptly, things changed again.
Of course, this triggered the fretting all over again, it always does when I have a memory blank, even a short couple of minutes one like this; I just had to check things, taps, lights, stove, door. When I got to the hallway, I found two letters on the floor.
One double-sided A4 from Citycare. I p[ointed out their plans an dedication to making sure we are all safe and instructed us what to do if we have any of the symptoms of the COVID-19 (Coronavirus). We have to call 0300 131 0300 – Option 1, then Option 5, between 0830am to 1700hrs pm, Monday to Friday. Being as it is Saturday morning now, I hope I do not get any symptoms for two days.
They also kindly gave us a 107 digit email address to use. That’s a guess at the number, cause Saccades-Sandra is playing up and I can’t focus properly to read it. Luckily, Saccades and other ailments I have are not sufficient to get me a weekly food parcel. So, I shall be of no bother to them. And am so glad that Nottinghamshire County Council, have supplied Sister Jane and hubby Pete with a delivered box of food weekly. Jane told me this while she was out shopping for eggs, bacon and some wine. They didn’t take the car or electric bike with them, that remained in the new garage at the mansion on the tree-lined avenue, with the eleven CCTV cameras, burglar alarms, pressure alarm pads and wine cellar. But, I’m contented in my three-roomed flat and being isolated and unable to get food.
Shame I don’t qualify for a weekly food parcel, but there you are. I’ll just stay here, with Nicodemus’s Neurotransmitters dying and Peripheral Neuropathy making me have accidents and dropping things, scolding myself etc., Mechanical Aorta valve replacement, Hernia Harold, Burgabasia-Bernie, Shuddering-Shoulder-Shirley, Stuttering Stephany, Anne Gyna, Rheumatoid Arthur Itis, Little Inchies Fungal Lesion bleeding away accompanied my Haemarrahoid Harold, Fluid Retention Robert, Furesomide induced wee-wees, Craig Cramps, Dizzy Dennis, Back-Pain-Brenda, falling over when I get an involuntary Neuropathic Schuhplattler dance from Neuropathic Nigel’s right leg, Conrad Constipation, Reflux Valve Roger sticking, Prediabetes Petunia demands, injecting Enoxaparin in my tummy, battling and getting injured by the Sock-glide, coping with the memory blanks, and picking at the bloodied scars from Clopidogrel Clive’s growths on my legs.
As I said, at least I don’t qualify for a food parcel, like others who have cars, wealth, health and the nerve to accept their food parcels. At least I have Jenny ♥ keeping her eye on me, and others, and a caretaker who brought me a bottle of bleach when he heard I couldn’t get enough.
But, it doesn’t bother me at all! Tsk! Hehehe!
I made a start on checking Emails and went to check up on the latest Coronavirus statistic.
Nicodemus’s Neurotransmitters failed at just the wrong, the most inopportune time!
The right hand did one of its as yet rare, shooting off in varying directions, just as I was typing. The bout merely lasted a few seconds.
But it was long enough for me to get this these two windows to appear on the computer screen!
I don’t know what the fingers or hand hit to get these up, but it frit me I can tell yers!
Being a computer workings idiot is not easy. Becoming one was!
I thought I’d buggered it up now! Understanding things, working out what it was on the screen was beyond me.
Fear of losing the computer and depression took over the mind for a minute or two.
I closed the windows and sighed muchly with relief when things seemed to be working okay.
Maybe, if things ever get back to normal, I might be able to find a college or something that runs courses on understanding the workings of a computer. What am I thinking? with my memory? And the courses will be night ones! And Nicodemus’s nerve-ends are dying anyway, so are not going to get any better, only worse, which means I’ll have to eventually give up computing all together, that hurts!
I continued to search for the virus figures. I don’t think they are anything to get too hopeful about yet.
I went to make a mug of Glengettie and came out of the doldrums a little. Especially as I made the brew, without any spills, shakes or nerve-end interference. That was a nice change.
Then, carrying the tea into the junk room, I dropped the mug! I was so low in spirits, it didn’t seem to bother me much. I just cleaned up the mess, thinking how lucky I was in not breaking the cup.
I was determined to pull myself from the darkness.
The cold sunshine went in, and a tiny few spots of a shower fell. It lasted only for a minute or so. I carefully made another brew, Thompsons Punjana this time. Then took a couple of pictures of Chestnut Walk. There was still an earthy petrichor smell already, which was lovely.
A couple of free parking spaces, and no illegal parking at this end of the walk, ah, Saturday innit! Oh, I just noticed there was a bit of naughty parking on the double yellow lines. I think they have wisely decided to ignore this activity, with us having so few spaces available.
At long last, I got the updating started for the Friday blog. Soon got it finished, thanks to Nicodemus being kind, and despite Shaking Shaun doing his best to knobble my typing. Haha!
The rear-end wind continues to plump and plop, but not foul-smelling. Ah, I must take a mug of Macrogol first. If Colin Cramps lets me, he’s having another bash at the poor old fingers now. Dangwangles!
Checked the comments. Then some bits on Pinterest. Next, the WordPress Reader. Then onto TFZer Facebooking. Then I tried to get an Iceland order in, but no luck, slots unavailable. Even if they were, I can still only be allowed one bottle of bleach. Nowhere near enough for a week for me. Thankfully, Robert, our caretaker brought me a bottle that’s getting me through for a few days.
Much CorelDrawing, making graphics for the blog tomorrow.
Mental fatigue made me leave the CorelDrawing.
I got the handwashing sorts out. Dressing gown, jammie bottoms and socks. All done, wrung and hung. I put the gown to hang in the wet room.
Got the ablutions done. No sock-glide confrontation, I left the bamboo socks off. The dropsies were a little higher than of late, that would be due to Nicodemus’s nerve-ends not sending any contact messages to the brain. At times this can get confusing and so frustrating. Especially when folks say, ‘Just be careful!’ Looking at me as if I’m an idiot.
Which is true! Haha! Because the neurotransmitters fail to tell the brain, as they come on and off-line variably and at their will.
The shaving produced a few tiny nicks, nowt serious. Little Inchies lesion had bled only a few spits, again, no hassle; even the applying of the Cortiscord cream was not too painful. Which was a nice change for me!
I got the nosh sorted out. Chicken breast, and tried the weirdly named Iceland fries, branded as ‘Naturally Imperfect Chips’. They were okay. The chicken breasts were a bit rubbery. Some seaweed crispies and an apple on the side on another plate. Two mini-Vienesse lemon cakes. No, that’s what they are called. I went to look at the part empty box. Lemon Whirls. A can of the delightfully tangy Clementine drink, too.
Ate it all, and I’d had my fill. Oh, the apple was awful, soft, dry! Never mind. A Flavour Score of 6/10.
I went to do the washing up and espied some dogs taking their owners for a walk in the bottom field.
I wish I could have a cat here in the flat, but I can understand the impracticality of it fully. I can take tumbles easily enough now, with the dizzies and neuropathic dancing legs, Arthur Itis… and a multitude of others with a ‘Let’s-Have-Inchcock-all-over-fancying’ nature. Imagine me having a pet to fall over as well! Hehehe! But it’s still sad making.
I got down in the Zyrophobia-suffering Brother-in-Law Pete damaged, while he was flat-sitting when I was in the Stroke Ward, and pilfering my money, recliner.
I watched a film all the way to the end; but with perhaps about fifteen few-minute nod-offs in between. Waste of time, I couldn’t follow the plot.
I lay afterwards, trying to ignore the rampant Thought-Storms, mostly of guilt, self-hatred, and isolation problems.
I must have nodded off eventually, cause I woke up in the morning! Hangalisationing Horror-time!
02:30hrs: I stirred into mock-life, and realised that just about everything attached to my wobbly-overweight stomach, was shaking to varying degrees. Shoulder-Shaking-Shirley was so bad, she was hitting my elbow on the recliner arm! Shaking Shaun had taken a fancy to the head and neck this morning. Worst perhaps, was Nicodemus’s Neurotransmitters failures were making it so difficult to sense anything hard, and getting up to respond to the urgent call to the Porcelain Throne was not easy! (The bonus, was, that there was no Neuropathic Schuhplattler dancing from the right leg)
I imagine that had a video been taken of my perilous hastened-hobble to the wet room, it would have gone viral! Hehehe!
After much faffling-about, I got on my feet, caught my balance, grabbed at the four-pronged walking stick, dropped it, bent down to pick it up and ‘Klunk’ down on my knees I went! Bearing in mind, the imperativeness of my getting to the Throne in time was increasing! Humph! I actually appreciated having the shakes from Nicodemus at the time, because there was hardly any pain at all when Arthur Itis’s patelas hit the floor! That usually come later, when the transmitter nerves start working again. Unnerving getting pains and you can’t see or remember why!
I got in the room, whipped open the dressing gown and down with the PP’s. To my surprise, I had to use a little effort to get the movement started. Things were not so messy this time, and the bleeding from the rear end, a lot less. The recently acquired pungent-pong was still with me, though.
By the time I’d cleaned up and medicated, I realised the shaking had almost gone. Apart from Shoulder-Shaking-Shirley, that is. I think she might have been having a go at me in my sleep, cause the joint and scapula were a little sore.
This got me wondering if the Phlebotomy nurse will manage to get here next week to take the Warfarin blood sample. It’s been three or four weeks since it’s been done now. But, with the loathsome Corona Virus pandemic, I’m not holding out much hope.
I got the camera out to photo the legs condition. Why I’m still doing this with no nurses coming to take them, I don’t know.
Anyroad, I spotted a sort of rounded-rectangle impressed on my chest, twixt my man-breasts and my portly pot-belly. I was a tad puzzled as to what could have caused this? I took this snap on the right of it, before taking the pins (legs) photograph.
The image-shape positioned just where mechanical ticker lies underneath. But obviously, the marking was made on the skin, outside. I later searched around for anything this shape in the front room where the recliner is, but I found nothing to match it. Unfathomable, but intriguing all the same.
The veins in the pins had started to protrude again. The varicose were not too bad, mind. The spider and superficial phlebitis were showing off somewhat. Where I fell on the knees was just starting to sting as I took this picture! Haha!
While in there, I did the teggies and had a shave. And very pleased with how it went, considering that Shirley didn’t ever stop shaking, although she kept altering the rate of power. And I only had two tiny cuts after the session! Smug Mode Adopted!
To the kitchen, and put some bits in a carrier, to give to Jenny when she comes. As a thank you for helping me out again.
I got the kettle on, then took a snap of the early morning view. Imbibed the medications and made the brew of Glengettie Gold tea.
I got the computer on and did some much-needed page top graphics. Which cost me a couple of hours, Tsk! Then did the Friday diary updating and got it posted off. Pinterest photos sent off. TFZer Facebooking (Three hours). Made a start on this post, and went on the WordPress Reader section.
During which, the innards started to give me some gip. And quickly got worse, more acute. So, I nipped limpingly to the Porcelain Throne, just in case things were brewing up inside for an evacuation. Oh, off I ran, stick in hand, hoping to arrive in time, to the wet room!
Phwoar! Just in time! The evacuation was quicker and less painful than any has been over the last week! But, there was so much of it! I had to manually assist the system in accepting it, and move it on to the sewers below! Shaking Shirley and Shaun helped me in spilling a lot of the water I was taking in the tub from the sink to WC, and that had to be wiped up afterwards. Washed and medicated the rear-end, and returned to the computer to get on with the Thoughts graphic creating.
Lost a opt of work and don’t know why! I’ll try to remember bits.
Jenny rang she’s coming with the Iceland bits for me, I put her treat bag on the door handle outside. She left the good and rang the tune-bells. Fetched them in. No tomatoes and Golden delicious substituted, at first I thought they might have been Jenny’s order, she told me they were on special offer. Nae fuss, I can eat them alright.
I spent hours doing graphics.
Porcelain Throne visited. Running short on actual cash now, with not being able to order food on site. Morrisons and Iceland both checked, and neither having any delivery slots available.
I dug out some chips from the bottom of the freezer. Got a pate and a few tomatoes left to have with them.
Got the nosh sorted. Last of the Piccolo tomatoes, oh, no it’s not. I just found a few more in the cupboard. Some Truffle fries, somewhat ageing beetroots, mushroom pate, onions, Marmite out of date but still tasty cheese medallion, one of the apples that Jenny got for me from her Iceland order, the last fresh orange drink, and a lemon mousse. I used up the last of the Jenny-donated bread with them, and enjoyed an evening feast! Thanks again to Jenny! 7/10 Flavour rating.
I got the washing up done, resisted the ‘none-urge’ to do some handwashing, (HaHa!) and got down in the £300, second-hand, on-its-last-legs, c1968 recliner. Put a Last of the Summer Wine DVD on, and wallowed in nostalgia.
The landline flashed, it was the Chemist, telling me the prescriptions would be at the door in a few minutes. I waited five or six minutes, not wanting to make social-contact with the lady, and carefully opened the door, making sure she had gone first and collected the pack from where she had left it for me.
Back to the DVD, and watched another episode of the ‘Summer Wine’. It’s got something this programme, it always did have. A gentleness, no bad language, so relaxing to view, and memory provoking.
As I went for the last Porcelain visit of the day, it dawned on me how the ailments had eased off. Not all of them, of course. Dizzy Dennis, Shoulder-Shaking-Shirley and now, Duodenal Donald all helped to stop me getting to sleep very soon.
When I did nod-off, a storm of dreams made sure that recuperation and rest, were not there for the fuddled, fermenting brain. Shame!
01:35hrs: By, Jiminee, was I shaking when I woke up? Yes, I was! Not shivering. Just like like Johnny Kidd & the Pirates in 1960, I was certainly, ♫ Shaking all over ♫. Not half! Only this was a version played by “Inchcock & the Ailments!” Hahaha! The only thing not shaking was the right leg. The knee yes, but that is part of the Peripheral Neuropathy and Nicodemus’s Neurotransmitters dying. And I dropped the walking stick when I picked it up, Nicodemus’s work again! Nowt to be done about that. Shaking Shoulder-Shirley was busily bashing away at the right scapula and joint. Shaker-Shaun was encouraging the head and neck to jolt about occasionally, too.
Saccades-Sandra had the eyes struggling to focus. Trotsky Terence was already building up the borborygmus in preparation no doubt, for some more rather violent fluffer-doodles and eructations, ready for a rush to Porcelain Throne.
But on the bright side, there were no signs of any sudden involuntary Neuropathic Schuhplattler drop-something and flail-about dancing… I’m not sure why I said that, cause there is never any warning. I’m losing it early today, ain’t I? These right-leg dances can be dangerous, I’ve had a couple of trips to the hospital this year.
Mind you, no good going now, is it? Coronavirus and all that. No point in pressing the alarm wristlet now, if it does kick-off, and has me on the floor. I’m not cheering myself up at all! Haha!
When I had got to my feet, the rumbling and grumbling from the innards indicated a quick move towards the wet room would be an expedient move!
Considering how I was rushing so as not to get caught out again at the Throne when I spotted the missing box of the Korean seaweed crispies, delivered last night. (They are still there now, I forgot all about them, being hidden behind the chairs, Tsk!)
I considered myself to be a little under the weather with the dizzies etc., but realised after the Throne session, the dizzies weren’t too bad after all!
Gawd, as soon as the ascending colon had rid itself of the material, I was double-up with lower abdomen pains! In a minute or so, they transmuted to just aching nagging surging pains that were well-bearable, though?
Then the cleaning up and medicating of Harolds bleeding haemorrhoids had to be done, during which it became obvious that Little Inchies fungal lesion had been leaking a little too! had to be tended to as well. That was painful!
Getting the new PPs from the bag, a surge from Dizzy Dennis had me fall towards the wall, I ended up knocking some things off of the floor cabinets. Unfortunately, a glass bottle of the antacid medicine was one of the things that went over…and landed on the foot and toe that I stubbed yesterday!
Of course, it didn’t bother me in the slightest! I dried the tears, swore a little, and went the kitchen, to take the morning medications with an extra pain-killer, well two, actually!
The farcical filling of the kettle was caused by Shaking-Shoulder-Shirley, luckily it was cold water that I ended up spilling over myself and the floor. I got the kettle on the boil, took the medications, made the brew, and took a quiet moment for contemplation.
Should I bother about anything today? It’s been such a crappy start already. If owt else goes wrong, can I cope? As I was pondering, I got the ready-made ear-olive-oil and was putting some in…
The top came off of the tiny plastic bottle! Oil, then ran down my body, jammie bottoms and I don’t quite know-how, but some ended up on the floor…
And I did a whoopsie on it! I managed to stop myself going over, though, but now I have a ricked back to go with all the other ailments to contend with! And a floor to yet again clean! Which set of Back-Pain Brenda and Anne Gyna having a go at me! I’ve always tried to do good and what is morally right, but that doesn’t seem to have me very far!
I didn’t feel sorry for myself, though… Well, yes I did! How can so many things happen all at once? I mean, I know I have not been one of the luckiest people all my life, fair enough, so naturally, I can cope with more than others with pain and botherwise; but my limit is being reached!
Then I started to feel guilty for thinking this way. The past few weeks have seen some wonderful help given me from people.
The Health centre receptionist, offering to fetch me a toilet roll.
Jenny leaving me a bag of fodder, then adding some things for me to her Iceland order!
Angela Gould ringing and sending me a pint of milk!
The lady at Sainsbury’s last week, just two small packs of toilet rolls left on the shelves, and I couldn’t reach for one, too high. The woman asked if I wanted one, and got them down and handed me one! Not many shoppers would do that nowadays!
Thank you all!
It was almost as if I had shamed the ailments! Well, apart from Dizzy Dennis, Anne Gyna, Saccades Sandra, Trotsky Terence and Shaking Shaun, I was getting some relief from the others. Then I had to return to the Porcelain Throne. Another messy, bloody performance. But I did feel better in myself for a while.
I got on with u[dating the Thursday post, not a lot to do, few photos and Shaking-Should-Shirley was easing off more, so it didn’t take too long. Just as well, the time was flashing by.
I got the vegetables in the crockpot, seasoned, gravied (put some hickory in it), and cooking on a low setting.
Then I went on the Pinterest with some snaps, twenty-minutes max. On the WordPress Reader, an hour or so. Then the TFZer Facebooking, I got carried away there, three hours at least! After which, I had to do some page top graphics for tomorrow’s blog.
Oh, dearie me, off to the Porcelain Throne again, Trotsky Terence is busy this morning – come think of, it’s afternoon already!
Then made a start on this post.
I tried to get an order on Morrison.s and Iceland again, but no luck.
Back to CorelDrawing.
Shirley and Shaun kicked off again, and I gave up on the computing all together and got an early nosh prepared, but made a few messes along the way with all the shaking.
On another Porcelain visit, same again, but less product this time. I sat there, pondering over my condition. Just the shaking and dizzies that were bothering today, but they were both persistent in unsettling and discountenancing me! They were very good at it, too. Tsk!
I got the vegetable stew sorted out, and despite my ailments, I enjoyed it a lot. Talking of lot, there was a lot of it as well, but I ate it all!
Spot-on with the seasoning this time. A flavour-rating of 8/10 given.
Getting the washing up done afterwards was so frustrating! I reckon I dropped or spilt more things than I didn’t!
A smidge of despondency dawned, as the fatigue crept in. I turned on the telly, but nothing was sinking in, a vast vagueness overcame me. As if I’d gone into a sort of turn-off mode? Even the regular Thought Storms didn’t bother me, for interest in anything was at a premium… that was until I had to get up and visit the Throne, yet again!
At least this session was not so messy and bloody.
I washed and got settled back in the recliner, and waited on automatic pilot for sleep to come…
01:45hrs: I stirred into an ersatz version of life; feeling otiose, vague, and in need of a non-alcoholic potation. As I removed my horrendously ever-growing stomach with thin arms and legs attached to it, from the £300, second-hand, c1968 recliner, the innards gurgled, I started coughing, and wind passed involuntarily from the rear end!
The thoughts of a brew of tea came second to the need for the Porcelain Throne. Off to the wet-room, the walking stick had never been used quickerer! In, PPs down, settled and… Wind! Nothing but noisy and smelly fluffer-doodling! Past experiences made me wait there, in case of sudden movements catching me out. A go at the crosswords, no clues solved, and no action actuated! Had a wash, changed PPs. Off to get the kettle on, as if the tea was a drug to me?
I got the kettle on, took the medications, again dropping the Omeprazole capsule, and made a brew of Glengettie. Into the computer desk, and had a look at the two-page, side-effects of the Omeprazole’s leaflet. But there was so much of it, I gave up.
Got the computer on, and went on Word Press Reader first. Then tackled updating the Wednesday post.
The almost immediate need to go back to the Throne was responded to as fast as I could manage it. Which was a good thing too! Because this time the innards-controlled evacuation started the moment I’d got seated. Eurgh! Splosh, splash, quirt, splatter! And with an aroma, that if bottled, could have been used as an effective nerve-gas by the military!
The stomach churned and ached after the release, for a long time. I cleaned up once more, me and the WC. Then had a few good-sized guzzles of the Silica gel and Dimethicone medicine, thinking it might calm down the borborygmus eruptions. (It didn’t) Shame, the pong of the repeated intestinal gas escapes, is filling the flat already, and it continues. As does the rumbling, grumbling innards and eructations, in between my coughing and sneezing. Sounds terrible, doesn’t it? It is! Gruelling-Gromble-Garblisations!
When I got the post updated and sent off, I went on Pinterest, then TFZer Facebooking. Then did some searching to find out about the two outstanding Amazon orders. A good job that I’m home-isolated innit!
I tried for the ninth time in 24hrs, to get a Morrison Grocery order done. Hehehe! What a hopeful, old, gullible, senile idiot, I am!
I got some graphics done. Started this blog off. The gut still exploding, but the coughing had eased off, and one of the sneezes was probably heard by Sandra Lentz and Tim Price in America! As for the accompanying wind… Phwoar!
I made a brew of Thompsons Punjana tea and had to shoot off to the Throne again. Oh, dear! Another messy, miasmic smelling session. I keep washing my hands in between and on Throne visits, and I must have the cleaning mitts in the place!
I opened a can of baked beans and put some hickory marinade in them, a long soak into for later.
I did a try at getting some food from Ocado. Another negative, no slots available!
I went on Facebook for a while, then on to CorelDraw for a creating graphic session.
After about a couple of hours, the door chimes rang out with their ♫I only want to be with you!♫. I thought it might be Amazon with the ear inserts or seaweed packs. I got my onerously large body to the front door. There, just outside on the floor, was a bag of food that had been left for me!
I’ve no idea who had donated the fodder for me, but it was a beautiful gesture. I unloaded the pack, full of appreciation.
The cobs will be perfect with my beans later! Onions and carrots, I’ve got some parsnips in reasonable nick, in the fridge. Tomorrow’s meal sorted thanks to the donator. That frees me from the worry of having to go out today! Bless whoever it was! Canned mushy peas, baked beans, sardines. A yoghourt that unfortunately has the lethal to me cranberries in it. Milk, lemonade, tomato puree, and some white bread. So kind of them! Oh, and a can of orange pieces, a perfect after for me!
I was putting the stuff away, and the landline rang and flashed. It was from Jenny. She was the angel who left the food for me, and perfect timing it was, may her foibles ferment with festive functions frequently! ♥ After the current scare, of course. Thanks again, Jenny! I feel humbled!
Made a brew in celebration, and got back to the graphicalisationing. It was slow going, and I had to leave it again, for yet another Porcelain Throne mission! The same evacuation mode as the last one. By gum, I’ve got a sore bottom now! Dangwangling Dangwangles!
After much tenderising and medicating, I returned and, oh, so painfully sat in the computer chair. I could do with another of the cushion-rings. Tsk!
The Dizzy Dennis and Shaking Shaun visits got too much for me. I had to stop computerising and while putting everything away, had to pay another Porcelain Throne visit, a visitational record today I think. Exactly the same activity. Messiness and uncomfortableness. I took an anti-Diarrhorea-Duncan capsule. Washed medicated and had to just sit quietly for a while.
Within seconds I’d drifted into a dream-filled sleep, in which I knew I was sleeping and just seemed to be enjoying the mangled, foozled dreams.
The landline flashed and sounded, I woke and fumbled my way to the phone. It was Jenny, helping me out again! She had miraculously got through to Iceland to give an order. And, as is her natural, considerate, obliging characteristics, she asked if I would like anything adding to the order for Saturday. If I email her back with anything, she will add it to her order. Not many folks would think of that, but Jenny is special.
I was still a tad confused at being woken up. And am not sure if owt else was said, and I sat down again for a few minutes and wrote down some items, then nodded off again.
I woke with a start. With a new headache above the eyes. Accompanied by Shaking Shaun, and Shaking Shoulder-Shirley having a go at me. To round things off, Flatulating Frank was rampant and persistent. Off to the Throne again! At least this session was not as messy.
My body just wanted to sleep, but I wanted to get back to Jenny and thank her and give a little list of items she had kindly asked for me to add to her Iceland delivery. Her delivery is for late on Friday, and Jen’ politely said she would not wake-me then, and bring it to me until Saturday morning. The lady is so thoughtful! So, a treat of braised beef in onion gravy cook-in-the-bag again for me this weekend after all! Bless yers, Jenny!
I got the computer on again. And sent the email. Then got the meal prepared. I had to take care in doing so, cause Shirley and Shaun were in attendance still.
The hickory seasoned beans with the last of the tomatoes, and triple-fried chips, and the Jenny-supplied bread, were smashing!
A taste-rating of 8.5/10! The white slice and cobs did an excellent job of soaking up the sauce! Hehehe!
I washed the dish and cutlery and got the handwashing in Woolite soaking in the bowl. I was too tired to do it tonight. It had been an emotional, draining, ‘shaking-all-over’ day, the Trots, and the fatigue and lack of proper sleep had affected me worse than usual.
I got back down in the £300, second-hand, dilapidated, c1968, rickety recliner. The eyes began to droop, and a particular sort of, well, almost joy came over me, as I realised I might get some sleep in without waiting for hours. I think Flatulent Frank agreed, cause he kept passing little comments! Hahaha!
As a blissful Morpheus was coming over me, and Dogwangles! I’d not taken the evening medications! With tremendous and grumpy petulant reluctance, I heaved my stomach-dominated torso from the recliner. And made my way to the kitchen’s medicines drawer…
– As slowly as I was hobbling, and as carefully as I could, I still managed to give myself a toe-stubbing on the corner of the kitchen door! I held onto the door frame for extra support, closed my eye, and withheld the urge to cry out loud and swear! A few moments later, after a Thought Storm that was partly incomprehensible, but included niggling, depressive thoughts about my bad luck and stupidity, I got the medications from the drawer and imbibed them with a drink of spring water.
It took me a lot longer to get back to the chair than it did to get to the kitchen. The throbbing toe, headache above the eyes and Shaking-Shoulder-Shirley joined forces to stop me getting to sleep for along time. But fatigue was getting the upper hand slowly but surely. Sweet Morpheous blessedly arrived!
But not for long! Tsk! The sounds of ♫ I only want to be with you ♫ rang out from the door chimes. Reluctantly, I freed my weighty lump of a body from the recliner, the toe didn’t half sting, as I fumbled my way to the door. It was Josie ringing, to tell me I’d had a parcel left outside the door. Bless her! I’m sure we chatted, I seem to remember telling her it was the seaweed snacks, and she would have some on her Sunday meal and thanking her for letting me know.
I was done-in now, mentally. How I got back to the recliner, and where I put the seaweed box, will have to be investigated in the morning.
Never have I been so tired! But I did get down and asleep, I know this because later, ♫ I only want to be with you ♫ rang out from the door chimes, and woke me again! Argh! There was no one there when I got to the door!
Crying out loud was an option that came to mind… but I didn’t!
02:35hrs: I awoke, still feeling a tad groggy and tired. I waited for the brain to engage gear and the fog to lift from the grey cells, and things became mentally at least, active! By the time I’d had an enthusiastic and satisfying itch around my massive, wobbly, overweight midriff, I recognised the urgent need to get myself to the wet room! So I did!
(As I now know, this was but the first trip of many to be made today! Oh, dearie me, yes!) The flow, yet again, began of the innards own accord.(It was close, but I made it in time, this time!) The evacuation contents reminded me of Brussel sprout sized clumps, that broke apart as they landed in the bowl with a series of splashes! Over quickly, no pain really at all! Not messy, and only the tiniest spot of bleeding. Even Little Inchies fungal lesion was leaking, but it was so minuscule. I distinctly recall, (and that in itself is a rarity!), thinking to myself as I cleaned things up; “Well if they are all like this, I’ll have no problems!” An acceptable session!
To the kitchen, and thought about the wonderful, kind help I’m received, prompted when I got the bottle of milk from the fridge, that Oberstgruppenfhureress Angela had arranged and one of the ladies had delivered to my door for me last night! Made a brew of Thompsons Punja tea.
I few moments of Mind-Thoughts blasting: Spirits dipped a tad when I went to get the medications out of the draw. I am now taking the Warfarin doses blind. No blood test for weeks now, so obviously, I have no idea what amount I should be taking! At least if I am imbibing too much, it might just be cutting myself and bleeding to death, might happen if Little Inchies fungal lesion flows. Too little Warfarin, and a stroke, seizure or heart attack. But, of course, that’s providing that the Coronavirus doesn’t get me first! Or Duodenal Donald doesn’t burst open. Maybe Anne Gyna’ll get me? Or the mechanical ticker battery will run out? Or the blood cancer starts again? Perhaps, Nicodemus’s Neurotransmitters will go into complete failure? Or, the Peripheral Neuropathy may start an involuntary right leg Schuhplattler dance, when I’m crossing the road, and I’ll get squashed by a lorry? No, no, no! With the lock-down I’ll not be outside will I, and will there be any lorries on the road by then anyway? Ah, the part bullet still inside me might suddenly rust? Nae, its been no bother for donkey’s years. It’s a game innit? Hahaha! You’ve got to laugh!
By the time I’d stopped the Mind-Blast, the tea had gone cold. So I took the medications to the computer desk, oiled the ear-holes, creamed certain areas in need of the same, and made another brew. I noticed that I had acquired what looked like a scorch mark on my right hand? No doubt during a period of a Nicodemus’s Neurotransmitter failure and the nerves did not inform the brain.
Off to the computerisationing. I had to do a graphic, I had no choice in the matter, this idea came into my mind for a funny Coronavirus page top, I just had to get it completed while it was fresh in my mind.
Then, onto updating the Tuesday blog, but I had a look on the Emails first.
Fair enough!
I tried again to read my notes to use on the phone call with the help, from Angela.
But it was guesswork. Eventually, and it took me an aeon, I got the updating finished. Put some pics on Pinterest. Emailed the link to my vast number of followers, both of them!
Then, I realised I had still got the medications on the tray, not taken. Schmuck! I got them gathered but dropped a yellow Lansoprazole. It took me ages to find it (Well. I thought I had!) The struggle to get down once I did spot it, I used the new picker-upperer (Thanks again, Jenny!) and retrieved it. Struggled to get back up again, and then realised it was not a tablet at all, it was part of potato-chip! Most likely from one of my nocturnal-nibbling sessions). Which meant I had to continue searching for the capsule. It took me so long to find it, I was on the verge of giving up when I did. It must have bounced when I dropped it, cause it was about six foot away on the carpet near the balcony windows! The picker-upperer did its job again. The capsule was washed, and then, taken along with the other medications. What a faffling _art about!
Embarrassing – Odd that I should use the term I did there. Because that is the very thing that emitted from my innards moments later, a little sort of silent involuntary Plump, felt more than heard! I hastened to the Porcelain Throne, but didn’t make it in time! The evacuation again was under the control of my innards. Runny, messy, and smelly. Yet, still, the movement was painful? Had a shower and cleaned up, new PP’s on, and the trousers were thrown away, disinfected thoroughly, in a black bag on there own! Now my spirits sank, shame grew, and a despondency developed!
Eventually, I made a start on this blog. But with the indelicate, humiliating events, my heart had lost some pep. I pondered on what I had eaten that might have caused this worrisome trouble. I’m sure I’d taken nothing out-of-date food in? Ah, well! I was confident that this that diarrhorea is not on the Coronavirus symptoms list. I’ll check later. Diarrhorea Duncan came on suddenly. Things have gone from solid and reluctant, to the opposite in a matter of hours! Mmm!
I was taking some photographs from the window, and the first one was shot. With the aid of the step-ladder and a deal of nervousness (Hehe!), was down below the window on Chestnut Walk. Compared to the last such a shot (right), last weekend, there were more cars and fewer people in view!
To the left
To the right
To the right, no one on the park!
I tried again at getting to book an order for Morrisons. But, although I was initially so pleased to be able to get on the site, there were no delivery slots available.
Mysteriously, they told me my trolley is currently £26.90 and contains 19 items?
I then read about Morrisons supplying £35 food boxes, £10 delivery. But could not get to find them on the site, of course.
One more into the breach, I tried for Iceland. Same thing. no slots available. It’s all frustrating and confusing… No, it’s not! Sorry.
From nowhere, disorientation and dizziness fell on me. I felt proper poorly. Then a coughing sneezing session. The guts rumbled, and hobbled off for the third trip to the Porcelain throne! By gum, Trotski Terence had taken over the tummy controls now! Eurgh! Most uncomfortable experience. Cleaning up was another big bother for me.
I gave up computing and any thoughts of mind control as the head spun.
Feeling almost exhausted, not able to take any interest in cooking or preparing fodder, I made a meal of sliced Piccolo tomatoes and the last but one Cox’s apple. I found a bag of crisps and had them with the so-called meal. No desire, hunger or need for more.
Computing left in a right state, I just stripped off, and got down in the recliner, put the TV on, and slowly nibbled at the food. The stomach-grinding began to ease off a little. But I felt so tired. The regular dropping off and waking a few minutes later went on for hours. I had no inclination to do or think about anything much when I was awake.
Then the shakes put an end to any thoughts of getting to sleep for hours. I thought the recliner would fall apart, or I might shake myself off of the chair! Hehehe!
01:00hrs. I woke and lay there with my mind in a sort of blankness. I knew I had to remember something this morning, but could not see any reminder notes on the TV or computer screen. I felt so drained, after all the sleep I’d had too. The fuzziness remained as I spent a while doing my best to get the brain to function. Tsk! An instant call arrived for the Porcelain Throne to be utilised.
I was out of the second-hand £300 rusty recliner in seconds and found myself in the wet room without recalling how I got there. (Worrying that!) The evacuation was affected in a Trotsky Terence mode and needed much cleaning up after the session.
Back to the recliner room, I went. The Emergency Grey Bin was half-full. Yet I couldn’t remember using it overnight? Depression and self-pity Mode now adopted! I then noticed I had liquid in the tray on the Ottoman and down the sides of it! I’d soaked the mobile phone, Lumix camera, the notepad, and pens! Whatever the liquid was, it didn’t smell at all? Another Mystery! I think the mobile and camera are both done for, neither would turn on after I tried to dry them. Depression Mode Adopted! Somehow, I found myself just accepting the situation, although angry with myself. It took me an hour to clean things up, between many SWDWWs (Short-weak-dribbling-wee-wees). Now I may have to spend more money on replacements. Grumph!
I went to get the Health Checks done and take the medications. Another Whoopsiedangleplop of the highest order! I found there were not enough medications in the drawer to fill all of the pots – then realised I had not fetched the prescriptions from the chemist! Oh, boy, today may well be one of my worst for ages, the way it’s started! I was short of just six Warfarin and one Bisoprolol (Beta-blocker). So, off to the pharmacy in Carrington later. Ay-yay-yay!
I made up the pots, and left a note about which ones needed topping up, and put them in the individual tubs in need of. Then, I began the Health Checks.
At least the resulting readings were all looking okay.
Considering how this morning’s events had got me in a panic mode, I was well-pleased with these figures.
Back to the Porcelain Throne. Another messy Trotsky Terence affected evacuation. I took a Dia-Limit capsule after.
As I returned to the kitchen to make sure everything was in place and safe, I took this photograph with the light off.
Off for another SWDWW. I hope these ease off before I have to walk to Carrington to collect the prescription medications. I really do!
My head’s in a mess now. But I must press on. I got the computer going and made a start on this blog as far as here. Then updated yesterdays diary and got it sent off to WordPress.
05:05hrs. Went on the WordPress Reader.
05:29hrs. Got some breakfast. A cuppa and some cornflakes. Watched a DVD on YouTube. Got carried away on YouTube.
0830hrs. Got the ablutions sorted. The shower warning lights came on again: ‘No Water’ and ‘Reset Needed.’ Of course, there is no reset button anywhere. Turned off at the power and back on, and it worked?
Knee and leg wound investigated.
The wound was looking far better again. The knee has developed a nasty looking blackish growth and has changed its moon surface looks. Haha!
I was taking the waste bags to the chute, and my mate Michael was getting out of the lift with some PPs for me. What a pal!
Fantastic chinwagging session and a laugh or two was enjoyed. The hero then gave me a lift to the chemist to collect the prescriptions and back home again!
I noticed that a washing machine was free as I came in the lobby. So I got up to collect laundry bag and accoutrements.
Put the medications on the kitchen top, had an SWDWW wee-wee, and down to the washers.
Back up to the apartment, and got the prescriptions into the medical drawer.
Down once more, to move the clothing into the dryer. Some naughty person had not cleaned the dryer filter, but fair enough, it could have been someone who could bend down to do the job, so I cleaned it.
Then cleaned the washer drum and casing of the washer.
I was going to take a picture of outside, but I’d forgotten to take the door swipe down with me.
I made a start on updating this blog, in between three SWDWWs.
Put the swipe in the trouser pocket, and down a final trip, to take some photographs and collect the washing.
I also took an empty glass jar and medicine bottle, to go in the Senior Citizen Residents Alcoholics Recycling bin. Hehehe!
The machine had turned itself off, and the clothing was not dried yet? So I popped outside to take a photo on Chestnut Way. Being the weekend, there were not many folks about.
I was in fine fettle myself, though. With Michael calling to see me, had cheered me up no end! I do love verbalisationing with amate, don’t get many opportunities nowadays. So, if yer reading this Michael, thanks cocker! Much appreciated.
I had an amble around for a while, then went back in to check if the clothes were dry enough, which they were.
Removed, folded and got the things into the bag. On the way to the lift, I had a read of the notice board signs.
Put the done washing away, had an SWDWW, no that’s not right. The wee-wees had now transmogrified themselves into SSDWWs (Short-Sensationless-Dribbling-wee-wees).
On the computer to update this post.
Marmite crisps and cheese, with Vegemite sarnies for the nosh. I just felt like them!
A massive Dizzy Dennis attack as I got settled into the recliner to watch some TV. It left me with a cracking headache this time, and I still had it when I woke up the following morning.
