DOREEN DEMENTIA; WAS SO HEGEMONIC... She had my mind all over the place; it was most horrific, Repeating my actions, & dropping things, I had another hat trick! Peripheral Neuropathy Pete is to blame, too; he’s malefic! On & off all day, Doreen & Pete were nudnik! No idea what I was doing at times… I feel sick… Most ailments are incurable or idiopathic, But I still do my odeing, though most of it is iambic. f it as rubbish and pathetic, This Inchie Today will be mostly photographic… Memory Blanks, lack of willpower & somnific… And as of now, I’m mentally borasic!
Bit of blood in the night bag again.
Got some spuds in the crock pot and forgot all about them.
.Shot of the dreary morning later on.
One of many brews of tea that I made. I split a few and forgot all about the others. Some left with the tea bag brewing and went cold. Some near the computer went cold.
Asda delivery. The kind driver to them into the kitchen for me. And put them anywhere he could find room. I appreciated his help. The Vegan shortbread biscuits were soon demolished! Hehe!.
Items I’d missed.
Waste bags sorted out. INR DVT Warfarin nurse arrived. Blood taken. Little natter enjoyed. By me, anyway… The next few hours were lost in the ether. A carer came… she signed the book, so I am right. Computerisationing, with accompanying problems with the mouse, my bad eyesight, mistakes galore, and I was not a happy laddie, methinks. Frustrated! Noise from the list engineers, but can’t be helped.
was working okay, but a bit of discomfort when the flow kept stopping occasionally But the colouration was fine later on.
Afternoon shot, then I lost another couple of hours. During which, Carer Carole-Anne (I think) arrived to return the laundry for me.
A couple of hours or so later, I took these shots the evening view. No sunsetting to shoot – Humph! As the darkness fell, I took more snaps. Pleased with the two above and below. Shot above here… Ans below of the Citrus Way car park.
Carer Richard arrived later. But I think one came earlier but the memory blanks obscured things again.
Found this photo of last night’s meal. I don’t think I put in on yesterdays?
All confused, I may have got Tuesdays and Wednesdays mixed up together?
Off to wet to dispose of the accumulated urine.
Ah… Wee-wee in both bags, should that happen?
I broke the tube off of the connector.
Got things cleaned from the mess of the evacuation.
Then started to get the done.
The Was filling quickly.
Abolitionising has been done, and I got on with the medicationalisationings.
Adjusted the mechanics of the as best I could.
The had been kicking off since waking up, but now she was really giving me some. Argh!
Finally, I got dressed.
Proper frosty out there now.
Did a bit of tidying up in the kitchen to make room for the arrival of the food from Walmart-Asda, although it’s not due for a few hours yet.
Got the waste bags sorted out.
Then, back to the . Messy, still.
arrived. Looking a little unwell to me. A bit worried about him this morning. Not that it stopped him from doing his usual comprehensive welfare checks on me. I showed him the tube that came off of the night bag. Within minutes it was replaced. I told Richard of the appointment with the Medical Monitor at the doctor’s surgery on the 2nd, and a temporary was enjoyed, when I told him I’d got through to the Easy-Lift people and arrange a lift there and back, in fact… it was a
The Walmart Asda Delivery Arrived
I was well-pleased with the driver’s attitude and kindness.
The driver kindly took the food through to the kitchen for me.
He put the food where he could find space; there’s not a lot of that.
They had some Potatoe Rostis in stock today.
And, unlike last week when they had none, so I ordered more than I needed. Cunning eh? They all came!
Mid-afternoon view from the kitchen.
Came to sort out the medications and do the Health & Safety Checks on the taps and cooker. She put my mind to rest about both Catheter Pouches having urine in them; She said that this often happens. Bless her. Then checked the taps and oven. Also moved some of the bottles of water delivered to a safer place for me. Bless her.
Sunsetting view this evening.
Arrived. Gave me the tablets. Told me of an electrical fire in a flat yesterday. All okay; the Fire Brigade apparently were taking photos of inside the flat. No one was hurt. Not sure when it was. Took a waste bag with her as she departed.
SHERWOOD SKIES TONIGHT
THESE WERE TAKEN OVER A PERIOD OF ABOUT HALF AN HOUR.
The dark cloud prompted my love of pareidolia
An animal with fire coming from its mouth? Hehe!
And then, back to looking dark?
♫ FOOD GLORIOUS FOOD ♫
Potato fries, tomatoes (Bitter Italian [‘The Best’ Asda] Piccolo or something like that), mock mackerel in BBQ Sauce, wholemeal cobs (Buttered), and a pot of cheesecake. Flavour rating 705/10. It would have been an even higher score, but for the Asda Extra-Special Aromatico Piccolo tomatoes (Urgh!).
I had planned to watch a football match, but Sweet Morpheus denied me.
Although I kept waking up every few minutes, then drifting off again. The moment I moved in the c1966, £300 pound, second-hand charity-shop bought, crumb-containing, odour-retaining, Harold’s Haemorrhoid-testing, nauseatingly beige coloured, non-working, virus-breeding recliner, the kicked off. But, of course, it didn’t bother me. Tsk!
Arrived. Richard to the .
Got the medication given to me. We had a little chinwag. And he was off on his rounds. Taking the waste bag with him for me to the bin.
06:25hrs: I woke up with a shudder and judder and immediately got stinging pains in the knee from the catheter.
I investigate the cause. I’m like that, you know, curious. Haha!
I found the top holding strap had somehow gotten twisted; that was what caused the soreness. I’m like lightning, ain’t I? Hehe!
Also, the bottom holding strap had come loose, and without thinking (I do a lot of that, as well!). I bent down to adjust the lower strap… A mistake that was! The pin from the mystery pain that has moved from the stomach to the back of the ribcage kicked off, and it’s not flipping well stopped yet! (19:00hrs) But of course, I’m used to pain now, and being the heroic, brave, manly person that I am, laughed it off!
I used the picker-upperer to get the night pouch from the bucket. Well, not much wee-wee went in there last night?.
However, a cheery sign was the colour of the urine, not a sign of any blood or sediment as with yesterday morning.
2: As I rose from the c1966. 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, I was soon back on the bum, testing the durability of as I pummelled back onto the recliner. 3: An burst into life, giving me a good buffeting, belting the right elbow on the arm of the chair. 4: knocking off a bottle of spring water from the Ottoman… 5: Which landed in the safety bucket, bursting open the night bag! I’ve had a better starts to the day!
I painfully detached the night bag without any mishaps. (I can’t claim that very often!) And off to the wet room… gingerly: I had the bowl with the wet wee and bags in, and Metal Mickey (The three-pronged walking stick), And voiced a prayer en route that an would not start again on the way. 6: I learnt on the way that the mystery stabbing pains had now reached the back of the ribcage. And using the right hand to hold onto Mickey made them worse… or brought them on because when I got in the wet room to clean the bowl and wrap up the night bag for disposal, the pains stopped when I put the stick down. Is it any wonder that I get so confused?
The need for the arose. Most conveniently, for once, as I was about a foot away from the Throne at the time. I anticipated another messy, gooey, sticky, clingy evacuation, as it has been for the last four days – but no! Good heavens, I’m having a mixture of good and bad luck now! I barely needed the toilet paper. I thought, clearly, my luck was changing for the better here. .
From this stage, my concentration and memory cells withered as I was doing the ablutions. Vast periods of time when if I did not make notes or take photos as a prompter – dissolved into the ether… never to be retrieved. I was doing so well on blog writing, I thought, but going to the wet room terminated any and all traces of my previous smug-Mode
Amidst the unreadable parts of the notes, there are repeated mentions of the mystery pains. Seemed they were bad all day. At this moment, many hours later, and much missed events too; nearly 20:00hrs; the mystery pains slowed down a lot, and my concentration returned… too late to save the quality & humour I think I put into at the start of the blog. I’ll run through the readable parts on the notepad’s pages and use photos that I’ve taken. During the day, Carers Sam and I think Kara called for the first two visits. Words I picked out tell me they were both pleasant, helpful visits
Carer Ty did the next two visits.
I took this photo, for some reason, of the box of Cefalexin Antibiotic. Out of interest, I looked up the side effects.
❶ Abdominal or stomach pain. ❷ Clay-colored stools.
❸ Itching or rash. ❹ Blistering, peeling, or loosening of the skin. ❺ General tiredness and weakness. ❻ Nausea and vomiting. ❼ Red skin lesions, often with a purple centre. ❽ Other Medical Problems:The presence of other medical problems may affect the use of this medicine. Make sure you tell your doctor if you have any other medical problems, especially:On Warfarin or Clopidogrel: Check with Doctor before taking it.Colitis (inflammation in the gut), history of orDiarrhorea, severe, history of, or Seizures, history of—Use with caution. This may make these conditions worse.Kidney disease or Liver disease—Use with caution. The effects may be increased because of the slower removal of the medicine from the body.
Compared to some of the medications I’m on, this one sounds safe. Well, apart from the Warfarin… I must ask a Carer on Monday to check with the Doctor for me. I know I’ve going to see her on Friday, but from her surgery, I am going to the City Hospital afterwards for the Systopcopy Procedure. So I need to know in time if I should stop the Warfarin taking as recommended.
Ah, my Angel Hristina ♥ from the DVT Warfarin clinic is coming for my blood on Tuesday; I could ask her?
I must have taken a shot of the rain sometime today. It looks like in the morning, mayhap?
Helped me with checking the Catheter bags. We had a nice natter for a short time. I think I was out of it when she arrived. According to the guessed-at wording on the notepad, I was not sure what I was doing in the wetroom when she arrived? I think!
Apparently, it took me two hours to get the ablutioning done. Getting trews and PPs on and off was harder than usual. (Not me talking, it’s on the pad) Haha!
Arrived, again, the memory and unreadable scrawl prevents any details.
Next on the written list: Blog Yest has done. Emminmer?, then Pinterested.
Carer Ty: Don’t think I enjoyed this visit. Tabs wrong… attitude?
Blogging, and wandering mind.
Tried to clean the kitchen. Has to stop. Although the mystery pains were getting less often, they always started when I bent down or rich (I assume that should have been stretch?)
Night bag farce.
Nosh. Feeling more with it now; no Ty coming again, bully. Oh, yes, he’s on the late check call, and in the morning… Humph!
05:20hrs: I woke; well, I wasn’t asleep really, just the odd fitful half-dose, with my rear end hanging off the cushion out of the c1966. 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. .
A bad night again for sleeping.
I was so tied last night I felt sure that my bosky would force me to get some respite and rest in the dorm of sleep. But, No!.
My friendly, compassionate neighbour above had seen to that. Two gays now, of constant banging, ta[[ing, drilling, clunking, with very elite respite; I hoped to get to sleep early, but that was a no chancer, as he started giving the hammer a bashing. Fair enough, he gave his last mechanical concerto just after ten o’clock, but I was on edge after so many days and hours of putting up with it, and I feared he may start again at any time.
He is making some things to give to the children he likes to support and visit, for Christmas, I believe.
I usually get his banging away every day of the year from Herbert (Nickname). But the last two days have been horrendously noisy for him. Doing my health no good. Even the Carers and Nurse Hristina heard him tap-tapping away relentlessly.
More so now that I’ve no Omeprazole medications to counter the pains from Anne Gyna. It seems that when the Doctor told me to double the dosages of the caps;e, she somehow forgot to tell the chemist! It got slowly worse, and no chance of getting any. Might call 111 later.
Had poor not gone sick, this would not have happened, I’m sure. It’s Richard that controls the Prescriptions. Still, excellent news on that situation; they tell me that Richard will be returning to work on Monday. I hope he’s not coming back too soon; as much as I am pleased about it, I hope he is not returning too early and gets himself poorly again. Crossed fingers!
Let’s assess the problems I’ve had to endure these last few days: or should I?
Maybe best not to…
Go on, then; I’ll make a list on CorelDraw and see how it reads. (Perusing engaged) Perusing ended)
Not nice, is it? But self-pity is not the answer! Mind you, I don’t know what the answer is?
I’ve got a little muddled up here. Things may be out-of-chronological timing from here onwards.
Sorry. The stress and pain from Anne Gyna are getting to me.
This photo is, I think, the first one I took this morning.
When I was brewing my first mug of Glengettie tea. I put the milk in and got blotches of manky milk floaters in the mug. Humph!
Threw the milk away and tried the semi-skimmed – same again? Threw that carton away. rinded the bottle and box and got them in the waste bag. Tried the last box of milk, and it seems okay. Another of the mysteries of Woodthorpe Court, with the hobgoblins, spectres, gnomai, phantasms, ghosts, the grotesque succubae, extraterrestrials, ectoplasms, spirits, or the Fata Morganas, that have been sent to taunt, irritate and terminate my already limited saneness of mind?
I got the health Checks tended to. (Ann Gyna is going to be a bother here; She’s getting more and more painful!
The results, as decreed by the NHS analyser, put me in the Hypertension – Red One Zone. But, so close to being in the High-Normal pink. So that’ll do me.
I see I’ve put the photo above in with the second lot of pictures I’d taken as well. Rather sad, but Anne Gyna has got my mind all over the place now.
When I get this done, I’m going to ring 111 and ask for advice.
He said, forgetting all about doing it afterwards.
I espied in these house shot photos that the frost and bits of snow were spread around liberally.
But you’ll notice the richest house on the block (Last house photo).
That will either be the richest family in Sherwood; who can afford to heat the attic room?
Or an efficient drug dealer den.
Specifically, a cannabis growing factory, with e plants being hidden in the loft and the heating on 23/7.
I wonder if they have rerouted the electricity from next door? Well, you never know! I can’t remember taking the sky one. But that’s not unusual.
My concentration is well-shot now. No notes on the memory pad from here on. Anne Gyna was stirring again.
The beloved neighbour of mine was nowhere near as noisy as the last two days. I don’t think it was my responding to every single noise he made over about three hours by banging back on the tall bookcase cabinet; every time it started tap-tapping, banging or knocking with copied noises with Metal Mickey.
But after around 02:30 hours, things went strangely quiet on the Western Front. Hehehe! He’s probably gone to deliver some of his creations to his children and friends.
, came. Kara took the washing and returned it, putting them away for me ♥.
I went to get something to eat. After a look at what food options I had, I decided on Cottage pie, rosti potatoes, cobs and BBQ sauce. I got settled, the TV on, and took the first bite of the evening meal… Carer Cheeky Charlie arrived to give me the medications. No Omeprazole, of course, and this was the reason for the pains in my chest that had been lingering all day long and getting worse the longer I went without any pain relief from Ailment 19 – Anne Gyna! Charly gave me two extra Paracetamol tablets and Took the waste bag with her as she left for the chute.
I ate the by-now nearly cold meal and still enjoyed it. Flavour-Rating 7/10.
While watching TV. Woke an hour or so later, took a wee-wee, getting bad again. Washed the pots and returned to watch the end of the film; it had about 5 minutes to run
Woke up as the screen credits for the end of the film were showing. Tsk!
And Carer Cheeky Charlie returned to give me the Peptac and check on the taps and stove. I sent to make a brew of Glengettie. Decided to take some evening shots from the kitchenette window.
The first effort was taken hanging out of the window straight down on Chestnut Way, the road and the car park. What looked like a fire engine, or stretched limousine, was, in fact, it was a normal car speeding out of the complex. I hope it wasn’t one being stolen!
A wide view of the horison and lights was taken next.
Not one of my better efforts.
The last photo was taken as I returned to the front room...
Completely forgot about the mug of Glengettie I’d just made.
The TV had been left on, and taking the photo purposely in the dark to ass a bit of mystery to it, I managed to get a .
Settled down and . Moments later, this caught me out somewhat: By what must have been the longest-lasting ever . I had to retrieve the leg from over the arm of the £300, second-hand shop bought nine years ago, c1966, discomfiting, alarmingly beige-coloured, crumb-containing, TV remote hiding, not working recliner.
By when I got up in the morning, I’d sprung awake at least a dozen times and had taken five wee-wees. Advice for Whippersnappers: Sleep is not easy when one wants it, but becomes rife when one doesn’t want it.
Oh, and be prepared to be accompanied in your slumber… or rather, to be awoken from your slumber by ailment 13: each and every night!
Oddities whippersnappers may encounter, like leprosy, An honest politician (Joking!), or water on the knee, Have ten children; some are yours, at most three! Go to Scotland for the whisky and to find Nessie… Soon realise your sanity is becoming an absentee!
Cuddle up to and grope a gal, all nice and cosey… Sweet words are shared, things getting lovey-dovey! Then find out her name is Arthur and not Rosie… No need to feel embarrassed, daft, or dozy… Fake an excuse, rush off, and send him a posey!
One day you may become an abductee! The kidnapper demanding lots of money… Before he’ll think of setting you free… But no one will pay; you’re not famous, yer see? He’ll likely keep you as an adoptee!
You’ll eat strange foods, & plain foods, like onion bhaji, Liqueurs, cannabis cheesecake, and beetroot coffee? Pickled walnuts, fingernails, and chocolate garibaldi… Even if financially up a gumtree… Try anything, as long as it’s free!
Will you be an owner, manager, or employee? Mayhaps a hippy with long hair and a goatee? Drugged up to eyeballs, living in a fantasy? Marching against bombs and nuclear energy… Just like your Mam and Dad did in 1953!
No need to use a snickersnee or machete… Wounding or killing is plain bizarrerie… It could be you’ll need a necropsy? All through greed and your bellicosity, Finish now, with hatred and animosity!
Keeping on the straight and narrow takes fortuity…
To hide your weaknesses and frangibility…
We’ve only one life each, not an eternity
Staying honest and non-aggressive shows dignity!
At St Peter’s gate, of wrongs, you’ll need deniability,
It’ll be no good pleading for mercy, circumstantially!
When it comes to things financially,
You must avoid showing credulity!
Moneylenders, Bank managers, show crudity…
But do it to start with using misleading civility!
Muggers and robbers take your cash with audacity!
As you get older, you’ll go much more often for a wee-wee! With little warning, you’ll rush to the WC… But, you won’t make it in time very often you see… I know, cause every day this is happening to me! It’ll dribble or torrent, with no controllability…
The protection pants offer little comfort to me… But less protection, as I increase my bellies adiposity… Struggling, Little Inchie gets stuck in the zip… agony! I wet myself; wetter than if on a water-skiers jetty! It bleeds, I cry… this is ageing – it’s not very pretty!
Mankind, indeed all tellurians are in a schemozzle… Humans can kill if they’re overcharged for Chipotle, Fish stocks are dwindling, mot in good fettle… Putin attacks Ukraine… not very subtle… Who can stop him? No one’s got the bottle, Nor the capability, no military muscle… This is not just an unneighbourly tussle! On the brink of the final world war… hopes frizzle… The outcome will have no one to dazzle… Hell, for Putin, would be no one left to go shooting!
Except for his own countrymen, that was tried by Stalin! It made the world scared of Russia, of even talking… As Putin eyes up the world with its Nations tottering… From Putin, there’s no schnorring or flimflamming… Civilians in the Ukraine, Russia, Putin is killing… For Europe he’ll is surely intent… he’s coming! The West isn’t thinking, it’s farting about tinkering… What Vodka should our politicians be drinking? As our economies dwindle, rapidly shrinking… When will it come? That’s what I’m thinking… Can no one else see it? That’s staggering!
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
04:30hrs: Up for a wee-wee, a nasty sprinkling all over one. I had to get the jammies in soak afterwards, with liquid Dettol disinfectant. Got a wah and made a brew of Glengettie.
Onto the computer to finalise yesterday’s blog. It took me six hours to get it done! A hard mental slog, hindered, mainly by Peripheral Neuropathy Pete, Shuddering-Shoulder-Shirley and Shaking Shaun. All in force with Dementia Doreen, the brain was a little lackadaisical, to say the least. I was getting angrier with myself every time a cock-up was made or missed.
Carer Richard arrived and sorted the medications and he took the washing and waste bags with him as he departed.
Mr Kind upstairs kicked of, but thankfully, not all day. After finishing the Wed-Thur blog, I did the ablutions and Porcelain Throne Rock hard again!, and made a brew of Glengettie…
Crap! The card reader had let me get the last posts’ pictures on. But now, it was now refusing to recognise the same car reader it had earlier in the morning! So, no point in me taking any more photos until I can use them! Gragnangles! I lost even more hours in failed attempts to get the bloody thing to work.
As of 16;20hrs, I’d had no luck at all.
I gave up and started to make a meal. Boy was I pissed off! I turned everything off, to try again to get photos on later. Harrumph!
Carer Cheeky Charley arrived and got the medications sorted out.
Problems a few, well, really quite a load…
Accifauxpas, bleeding, no real Smug-Mode…
Noisy Herbert, getting on my goad…
Memory blanks, mistakes made? A shitload!
I had to look up my own postcode!
The Thought-Storms constantly flowed…
Wee-weeing? The bucket nearly overflowed!
Stabbed myself with a toothbrush up my nose,
Will it get worse, discommode? Nobody knows…
What evils and stupidity Satan may bestow?
I’ll have a mug of tea and a marshmallow!
Haveth a great day!
05:30hrs, the usual jumping awake, with a verbal “Uhrge!” arrived. I pondered a few seconds to check on the time, day and need to activate the brain to join the body into some form of starting.
My hazy and befuddled brain sorted itself out in a fashion, and I decided to get the sphygmomanometerisationing done first thing. The grey plastic was half-filled before I started this slash. By the time I’d escaped the c1966 recliner, the need for a wee-wee had developed. And the urine flowed and splashed at a rate and pace never known before! How I held onto the NWWB (Nocturnal-Wee-Wee-Bucket), I don’t know. But obviously, I had been wee-weeing throughout the night.
I still can’t work out how someone in my condition can free themselves from the recliner, take the few paces to the bucket, pass water (ferociously!) and get back down again… even once, and yet, not know he’s done it; when he wakes up? Someone must understand this. A psychologist or somebody? Which followed nearly every one of the wee-wees that followed today, and there were dozens of them! No wonder I can feel the dampness in the protection pants of the damned PMAD (Post-Micturition-After Dribbling).
There was much handling of things in washing and cleaning; poor Little Inchies’ fungal lesion started bleeding again later on. Humph!
I finally got around to taking the Blood Pressure. A fine set of figures they were too! SIA 144, DIA 48 and Pulse at 72… No, hang on. The DIA’s a good bit low… I’ll check it out.
No, that’s not too bad, only just in the red area anyway. For some reason, the low DIA brought it up overall a smidgeon. I’ve had it a lot worse than that. Last week one day, it was Sys 171, so I’m not fretting.
I used my Chinese (Hong Kong) made by Shenzhen Relee Electronic & Technology Co. Ltd™, contactless thermometer. The result was a bit higher this time, almost on the target figure of 35!
All went well, apart from the teeth cleaning, which was bloody. Thanks to ailment number eleven, Shuddering-Shoulder-Shirley. As it did two days ago when she made me drop the mug of Glengettie, her timing was cruelly well-timed. I was about to put the brush in my mouth, and she struck! Despite it being the brush end than entered my nasal channel, it was so fierce that it brought blood. However, it could have been worse, and I soon dried it up. A bit sore now, though, Hehehe!
I started updating yesterday’s blog, and Carer Richard arrived. The poor lad didn’t look too good; he was obviously weary, worn out, tired at the end of his shift. I brought him around a smidgeon with some nattering and a laugh or two, as much as was possible. I think his blood count was low. He said on leaving, he’s going to take his own medicines and get his head down as soon as he gets home. He still had a chinwag, though; I appreciated that from the man. Bade him good luck and health as he left, taking the taste bags with him for me to the chute.
I then spent hours trying to get the Card Reader to work to get the photos on the computer. I was at the limit of my patience and know-how of what else I could try… and wallah! The card suddenly returned to working mode? Although there have been odd, weird times when it tells me the reader is not recognised. So frustrating, I lost hours on the day messing about, turning everything off and back on, the card in and out of the slot… swearing, and at one point, I almost cried!
Eventually, I got the blog finished and posted it off to WordPress. Thank heavens for that!
Time for a mug of Glengettie!
I took these photographs of the view from the kitchenette window. The first one to the left (South), the second down almost straight ahead (East), finally one to the right (North)
I pressed on with starting this blog going. It was concentrating mind…
My sociable, kind, understanding, compassionate, snotty-nosed neighbour above started his clunking, banging noises with some venom. I think he’s realised he was not so bad yesterday and is making up for it?
I stopped to make a brew of Glengettie, wrapping the tea bag up and placing it in the small waste bag; this is what I saw (on the right here). My initial reaction was… Argh!Another Boll Weevil! Oh dearie me! Out came the sprays, and the kitchen got a good covering in all corners and every hidey-hole or corner that I could get at!
I got what I thought was the offending animal out of the bag – but I could not see if it was a weevil or something else, thanks to Cataracts Kathleen, Glaucoma Gladys and Saccades Sandra.
Well, well, well! Another cock-up made yesterday, discovered! Tsk! I looked at the watch, then the clock. A difference in time showing? I’d forgotten to put the clock forwards with all the others, but a true Masterstroke-Whoopsiedangleplop with the new square, easier-to-see wristwatch! I’d put that backwards instead of forwards!!! Humph! It took me a while to work out what time it was now! So, I now have no idea when I got up this morning.
The sky turned into a bright blue; I’m glad I caught it with the Canon cause minutes later, it had turned back into a bright pale blue shade. It turned out to be a decent effort, I thought for once.
I took a photograph of the Chestnut Way end car park. It appears that the Red Van Man has not used his vehicle since yesterday. Hope he’s not poorly. Time to get some fodder organised.
The evening carer arrived and soon had the medicationalisationing sorted out. Took the waste bag with her to the chute for me on her way out.
I took an easy option tonight. Cooked some mushrooms with balsamic vinegar, squid sauce and chillies powder. (Not as ad as it sounds as it turned out, Hehe!) I sliced some lovely yellow tomatoes and forced myself to cut up some of the sickeningly bitter, foul-tasting Moroccan red tomatoes. Added the last of the ‘Batter bits’, a small apple and a banana. A Lemon and Lime M&S yoghourt that needed a mortgage to buy. And tucked into the feast… Oh, and of course, with the two hot dogs with BBQ sauce added. Flavour rating 7.2/10.
I went to Washed the pots, then me, Putting the trousers back on afterwards by mistake for the jammie bottoms! Tsk!Then settled to watch my favourite TV show, ‘Heartbeat’.
I couldn’t enjoy the programme properly, cause Colin Cramps visited my left hand and fingers. Never known him to be so painful and persistent!
Unbelievably, Colin Cramps stopped tormenting me the very moment that the end credits rolled for ‘Heartbeat’. Ah, well!
I rose for a wee-wee, and boy, had I taken some over the day! On the bright side, Little Inchies lesion was not bleeding. Check the taps (faucets) and electrics, and I got down in the £300, second-hand, decrepit, Haemorrhoid Harold-testing, sleep deterring, nauseatingly beige-coloured, not-working recliner.
The Thought-Storms kicked off straight away. They dragged things from over sixty-plus years ago; my errors, bad choices, failures… on and on, they kept coming! Some I had actually forgotten about altogether… they had to be mused over. I’ve no idea why; it only made me more depressed.
Out of desperation for sleep and to escape the storming, I turned the TV back on. Which worked… but at the same time, Colin Cramps attacked again in the same hand!
I think it was gone midnight again before I managed to nod off. Well, that’s not exactly right. I realised I’d not taken the Hemp capsule again! I nodded off many times, but only for a minute, then I’d shoot awake again.
At least the Thought Storms had given up on me, only to be replaced with Self-Hating-Harvey. I suppose that Dementia Doreen is at the route of things…
Inchcock Loses the plot in this ode to Old Nottingham Memories
But he does his bestest, honest!
Nottingham has many virtues, good, bad and chronic… Its history, of being Saxonic, It’s people grand, pleb’s, murderers, some moronic, Nowadays, we’ve bred more that are demonic… Muggers, gangsters, shop lifter, a lot, schizophrenic… A few have car insurance, and not many have a driving licence… Younger Nottinghamians music is cacophonic… Thousands of students, so some scientific… We’ve had many arrested for being terroristic.
Many of them you’d think were telluric, The job-shy, call having a cold being sick! Many old uns like me, who remember Sputnik… Using lard to make their spotted dick! We’re snided out with those sarcastic… Even more of them are vandalistic! Gone are the days of the workaholic… But also gone, getting polio, scabies and colic! Hopes for our citizenry? Like a trip on the Titanic!
The tin bath dragged inside from the wall, metallic… No bath salts, we made do with soap, carbolic! Hot water, Ha! Boil it on the stove or fire; unhygienic! The toilet outside at the end of the yard is unproblematic! Mind you, in winter, I was a smidgeon unenthusiastic… Coal-house out there, fetching wood could be traumatic, In the dark, you could kill a rat or cat hidden – tragic! But lazing in front of the coal fire was magic! Until the burning ashes shot out, and the carpet got lit!
Anything to be written was in pencil or pen and ink! We knew nowt about an uplink, hard-drive or weblink, Mobile, cell phone, wristwatch, dentist or permalink,? Our pleasures limited, Monopoly, maybe tiddlywink… Swearing was minimal then, ratfink, burke or gink! Getting the belt for devilry made us wince and squint! I got a few lashes once, a day out…for not looking perjink! I recall once, the lads writing on my leg splint… Not a lot of it was spelt right; they put sinnt for sent… But thickness and ignorance permeated wherever I went!
I tried to join a club once, ended up getting a blackballing! My education, manners, and appearance were appalling! My approach to girls, looking back… was bloodcurdling! 9 times out of 10, her admirers would end up brawling! With me, the littlest, the one that kept falling & failing! On this embarrassing subject, I’ll stop burbling!
Amongst the unknown to us was Methamphetamine, Mind you, we’d a neighbour who’d supply whisky and gin… I got IPA, Mackeson, Guinness, thus started drinking… My intake, for many years, there was no curtailing… But my love of beer was never really disabling, Until cancer arrived, there was only one way of controlling… I singularly went from a happy drinker to totally abstaining! It was hard, so hard to do, I still find it appealing… But without any help, encouragement or counselling, I turned tea-total… smug-mode developing!
I became a keen lover of food and masticator, My weight ballooned, and furthermore… Got myself a duodenal ulcer… Cancer of the bladder… Then diabetes and nasty hernia… Peripheral neuropathy, oh, bother! A stroke, which left me a confused procrastinator… Disabled, what next? Cataracts, Saccades and Glaucoma! I was already going deaf, then bother with an incisor!
And to think, I used to be a blood-doner.., Also, now, I do tend to stutter… Still struggle with the wee-weeing bother, Then I was confirmed to have Vascular Dementia… This life has been terrible… yet also an adventure! Oh, and the back’s developing a curvature… I think its best to try and stay demure, About there is no chance of a cure, The failing eyesight is worrying me more…
Did I deserve all these ailments? That’s up for conjecture, Is that the right word? I’ll check… Yes, no error! Things seemed better in the days of yore, thereinbefore, The Carers’ cost a lot, that’s for sure… A little good luck, I could do with some more? Dementia Doreen’s in control, I’m sure, that I can assure… Yet at times, she rests, releases the memory-core… If she returns and comes back to the fore, She’s my ever-present concentration annihilator!
Sorry, I see my starting thoughts got juxtaposed…
Did my thought waves get overdiagnosed?
Is Dementia Doreen no longer comatose,
Or my incredulous logic, become indisposed?
Have I been overeating glucose,
I’ve just eaten a banana, and I’m adipose!
Would it be alright to have Marmite on toast?
The plot’s gone again – what a terrible host!.
There I was, in heaven… with Sweet Morpheus, it was so nice!
I was romancing a buxom lass named Eunice…
And Inchie butted in, with his pestering moans and advice!
But, for the first time ever, we agreed and did empathise…
Perhaps it was not wise for us to try to fraternise?
But we did; I think he enjoyed it likewise!
Inchie: Well, that hospital visit was farce wonnit, mate?
Inchcock: Huh! You again, what’s wiv the mating bit, then?
Inchie: I know we’ve ‘ad our ups and downs, but you’ve been through a rough patch fer this last twenty years or so, and I thought it’d be nice to be nice for a change…
Inchcock: Did yer? I feel like by being non-argumentative, I’m taking away your little pleasures…
Inchie: Worrya mean?
Inchcock: Well, yer usually wins all the verbal fights and tiffs we ‘ave…
Inchie: Naturally yer turd! I’m yer Alto-Ego, yo are the ethereal thing like. So fings like conscience, giving a toss, and yer ability to fret, worry, show signs of pissed-offerdness, and you can get a bit depressed at times… I’ve noticed that! So I’m taking my chance to confuse yer all the more you see?
Inchcock: Not really; I’m flummoxed again already! Why can’t you just leave me alone to get some rest and peace?
Inchie: No, no, no! It doesn’t work like that, dumbo! It’s my job to hassle yer, keep yer on yer toes, like. Else overwise yer might commit Hagi-Kari… then…
Inchcock: What! After all, I’ve been through, do you think that I’d top missen? Rubbish, claptrap, your just stirring things again, aren’t you?
Inchie: Yea, I’m good at that, ain’t I, no doubt about it…
Inchcock: For God’s sake, if you are me, or my other half, surely you must suffer the agonies that I do – so why bother…
Inchie: Ah, you’ve not gorrit yet, have you? You are! I’m not me…
Inchie: Yo just said, for God’s sake, yea?
Inchie: Well, I know that yer doesn’t believe in him… see? Provin’ what an ignorant, uneducated, pug-faced, pathetic, docile, pussy-cat, yer really are, cocker!
Inchcock: Fair enough with the name-calling; there may be an element of truth in some of what you say about me – but surely you must be the same yourself?
Inchie: Perhaps mush, or maybe not. Are you not talking to yourself in reality? Come on… answer that, yer moron!
Inchcock: If there isn’t any God, then why even bring up the subject – I’ll tell you why, no… hang on, what was the question?
Inchie: I know, but it got yer going, see!
Inchcock: How can one see? If you are really me? There is…
Inchie: You retardate; You just can’t grasp it, can you, tit-head?
Inchcock: Grasp what?
Inchie: The relationship between us, knucklehead! Yer still think yer talking to someone else?
Inchcock: I am, you!
Inchie: Yer, but I am you! Ain’t I?
Inchcock: Just because you say so does not mean that is correct!
Inchie: Ah, so you think we are two different entities then?
Inchcock: I’m not sure… what do entities mean?
Inchie: Concentrate pillock! Fink abarght this… you’d know what the word means, yea! If you was me, and I was you… right?
Inchie: Look, numbskull, I think it best if yer gerron with the pork pie supper you wuss plannin’, then I’ll give yer an hour or so, I’ll come back to hassle yer a bit more. I can’t be fairer than that, can I?
Inchcock: Does this mean I’ve won an argument with you?
Inchie: No, you silly old fart! It’s cause it’s Christmas!
23:40hrs: I removed my over-flabbily-bellied body from the c1968 recliner and utilised the NWWB (Nocturnal-Wee-Wee Bucket). A short sharp affair, with a lot of CMD (Cessational Micturition Dribble) to follow.
No messing about, I got on the computer to create a template for today’s blog. Starting with doing a few graphics on CorelDraw. But, I didn’t get too far, the call to the Porcelain Throne arrived, so, off to the wet room. Incidentally, Cartilage Cathy was a lot kinder to me this morning.
It seemed to me that the daily PTDDSB (Porcelain Throne, Daily-Domination-Stakes- Battle) for supremacy in the evacuation was a close thing. Still, a comeback from Constipation Konrad had curbed the rampant messy tendencies of Trotsky Terence for once! So, I had a go at the crossword puzzle as I waited for things to kick-off. Just as yesterday, I didn’t solve a single clue! (Well, I’m consistent, if not capable. Hehehe! The movement started slowly and stayed that way, but no pain or bleeding, and as I said, it was a lot less mess to clean up. I still had to refill the tank by hand though, I think the problem is the fluffy too-thick toilet roll paper.
Back to the grahicalisationing, I went. Then made-up and started this template. Which took me ages to get this far with. Then, I went on to update the Wednesday Diary, at long last. I got it updated fully, emailed the link and went on the WordPress Reader section. Which I enjoyed considerably. Pinterested a couple of photographs, the read and replied to the WP comments that had come in. Some witty puns and quips came on this Thursday.
I was about to start collating the advance templates and realised the hours had shot by; it was time to get the ablutions tended to. As is usual with me, I got into the kitchen and got myself sidetracked once more.
I decided to get the hand-washing done first. But and however – guess who had left the hot water tap (faucet) to run cold? Yes, pickle-brain Inchcock had struck-again! Gawd-blimey, I this far too often! Hence decision had to be made (another Inchcock problem area!) My EQ told me there nothing to do but press on handwashing boiling the water in the kettle and saucepan, for more Whoopsiedangleplops were on their way! He also called me a name, a naughty one!
So, the half-hour or so handwashing exercise took me nearly two hours! Not to mention the scolding of two fingers fetching the kettle to the sink… Oh, I’ve said it! It’s a good job that I was in a slightly better mood today! I washed the long-sleeve jumper, the jammie-bottoms and the pair of long bamboo diabetic socks. The washed ones from yesterday were not fully-dry enough to put on today, so I got a couple of 100% short-ones to adorn after the ablutions to wear.
Then, as I checked the dryness of the other things that were hanging above the kitchen window, with perfect-timing, Peripheral Pete went into an involuntary right-leg Neuropathic Schuhplattler dance routine! This caused me to drop the coat-hangars and the washing I had in my hand. Belt Cathy Cartilages knee against the floor cupboard, and hit my head against the heater getting back up again!
I made a start on moving the stuff back into the cupboard, but soon lost interest!
My new found emotions of satisfaction, semi-contentment and renewed hopes sank without a trace! I took some painkillers and moped my way to the wet room, leaving the clothes where they had fell on the floor, and swearing a little still, got to the wet room, totally uninterested in what I was there for! Pissed-off would be a quicker way of putting things!
Had I been aware of what was waiting for me, I wouldn’t have gone in! The worse Ablution session in months!
I realised there was no hot water to be gleaned from the sink tap for shaving! But felt sure I would manage using the hottish water from the shower-head without any bother (What an idiot!)
Have you ever had to keep going to the other side of the wet room, and with Peripheral Pete shaking me about like a good un, repeatedly, bring the shower-head, which only just reaches the sink, and spraying the tepid water all over yourself and the room? It’s not easy! The cleaning up afterwards wasn’t either!
The de-nasalising went well. No water needed, you see! One dropsy only!
The teeth-cleaning had a bit of discomfort.
Then the shaving began. I had to keep emptying the sink of the water that went too cold, turning up the thermostat, and dial, to get as hot that I could from the control panel, but it wasn’t scorching enough, even then.
The whole shaving job was farcical in the extreme. Although having said that, there were only five dropsies! A few little nicks and one cut under the chin. One the throat, two in the neck-hole, and one on the cheek.
I got belated Health Checks done next. The Boot’s, made in China Sphygmomanometer’s SYS reading was fantastically low! Grrreat!
At least I think it is; hang on, I’ll check on Mr Google later on.
The in Hong Kong produced, Chinese Harpin Xian Di contactless thermometer reading was, I think, a smidge high, but well down on yesterdays worrying high of 37.9°c – 100.22°f.
Since the side-effect-ridden AstraZeneca Covid-19 vaccination was given to me a week last Saturday, SYS has also been higher, its the lowest reading today than for ages. I think I might be getting confused here, between the SYS and the temperature? Well, fancy that!
I found an NHS site on Google, where you can put in your reading for SYS and DIA, and you get an instant show of where you stand on the chart, with a black cross! Proof that I was right to worry when the SYS went up to 180 five days ago, well, that was well in the red area!
Gotten Himmel! Look at the time! What happened, where did it go?
I’d better close down and get my pre-planned, easy, tasty (I was well wrong there!) meal prepared. I’m afraid the beautiful looking Iceland bought tin of tomatoes was terribly bland, tasteless, watery. Savourless and unappetising. These Don Holio chopped tomatoes needed a warning giving-out about them for anyone unlucky enough to buy any. The Sainsbury crispy smoked ready-cooked bacon slices were very fatty tasting as well! The last of the sourdough bread saved the meal. A flavour-rating of 4.5/10 was granted. Reluctantly to a degree! Eurgh!
However, and leaving the pots in the sink in cold water to be cleaned when I have some hot water again, in the morning, at first, I was well-pleased that I was in time to watch the channel 11, Tales of the Unexpected episodes.
I stayed awake until the first set of commercials, and Sweet Morpheus visited me, and off into the land of nod I floated.
And slept for four unbroken hours, which was so nice! Ahh!