Post 398: Another Gulp of Oramorph Spells Danger 
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I got up for the hungry horror downstairs — no, not my Darling, silly. Mr Vicious.
I’m trying to teach an old cat new tricks.
It’s only the “away” command to keep him away from the blue plastic bowl. He’s alway knocking my hand away as I drop the food into the bowl scattering his food everywhere, not the end of the field to pick up the herd of sheep. Anyway, it’s not going too well, but it’s early days. I’ll get my Darling onto it as well as me and he’ll get the hang of it. I’m convinced of it.
But my movement this morning was slow and painful. I’m not sure if it’s the outside of the groin or the inside of the hip joint, and boy does it hurt.
My hips are clicking and sometimes getting stuck. It could be wear and tear in the joint or else Snapping Hip Syndrome. Gulp!
But the other thing that’s annoying me — and annoying me equally — is my left shoulder. Boy oh boy oh boy it hurts. Blimey O’Reilly. And right out of nowhere.
The shoulder feels muscular-skeletal because if I touch it, it stings loud and clear. The hips and shoulder are both bearable to a certain extent, but sometimes I’m not able to take the pain and there’s only one thing I can resort to, which is Daddy’s little helper — in this case, Oramorph.
You know what? I’ve not had any Oramorph for three weeks. How good is that?
But without Daddy’s little helper I’m at the mercy of the pains increasing and, just like now, I’m getting a wee bit of pain.
Maybe when I see another new doctor tomorrow he’ll be able to treat one or two of the eight or so pointers of what’s wrong in my insides and outsides and set me right. I do hope so.
Then I can step down to the conservatory floor and feed the wee cat easier and without the clicking and cracking and pain.
And so I did feed myself with a bowl of flakey corn with crispy nuttiness and full cream milk, or mill-uck if it’s my Darling speaking in her beautiful Irish brogue.
My Darling came down all of a flutter and an eagerness for something, so I threw my arms out a bit — but did she reciprocate? No she did not. What had I done to deserve this unfair treatment?
She said, “is it too cold for a light shirt,” and pointed to this green and white micro-hooped T-shirt.
“It’s lovely out, but are you not waiting for my phone call?” I said in return.
She looked a little crestfallen, like I’d stopped her doing something she really wanted to do.
“Ah yes, I’d forgotten that. I’ll ditch the fast walk and stay for the call at 10:30.”
So with my breakfast of flaky corn with crispy nuttiness eaten, and my spoon and bowl washed up, I followed my Darling into the TV lounge with the blue sofas and the bits and bobs that’ll be tidied away by the cleaner when he comes later. I put things into safe drawers now that he doesn’t go into — I hope.
While my Darling took the TV remote, I sat back.
I was happy to say that the cardiac specialist who was calling later was going to be proud of me. I had no more issues than before and that meant the check-up was done pretty easily.
While she watched TV, the cleaner arrived and started on the bathrooms as soon as he’d taken his coat off.
The call was ten minutes or less in duration and led to the doctor being well pleased with me and telling me to reach out if there’s any increase in symptoms. Both my Darling and I were happy and now free to run, walk or hobble away from the blue sofas.
We were both due haircuts later this afternoon next door, so we watched a little TV and I had a late lunch of an eggy roll and a tangerine upstairs while the cleaner finished the TV lounge downstairs.
By the time it was haircut time I was sound asleep while the K-drama unfolded without me.
With the Oramorph especially, I will hallucinate and think I’m a character in the TV drama. I find myself talking or waving my arms about. It must be scary for anyone looking on, but luckily I’m alone.
My Darling had come up beside me and said, “Mr U, get up if you want a cut. It’s 2pm.”
And so I hobbled off downstairs and promised to call her the minute I finished.
Yeah yeah yeah. Enough already.
As I hobbled around next door I noticed it was 2:02 pm but still felt bad that I was not more punctual.
However, my neighbour was her happy smiling self and we started chatting.
She started with the clippers and very soon there was plenty of grey hair on the floor around my feet. She explained how the caring job she has is in my hometown, just eight miles north of where we live now.
The building was at the pleasure grounds in the hilly south of town, near where I used to play on the swings, roundabouts, sandpit and slides. It was a fab place to be as a kid.
She’d only started last week but already obviously loved it there, with all the care receivers having fun at this day-care facility. It’s located upstairs at the sports pavilion and caters for people all over the spectrum, so some can’t talk but all enjoy the activities they put on themselves.
I could hear in her voice the love for the place. It’s always great to find that job you fit perfectly into.
I started talking about my own good news, mainly about blogging and the possibility of writing a book.
She absolutely loved the idea and not only backed the thought of an author next door, but said she knew an author of two books. The first was about her experiences travelling around the world.
“Perhaps, if you’d like, I’ll contact her,” she said. “You can speak to her and see if you can get your questions answered about publishers and publishing. She would know for sure.”
With neighbours and friends I’ve been more successful than the internet in bringing forward my idea of writing a book. I was buzzing after I left her hairdressing salon overlooking the long white lilies and other early flowers bringing colour to the world.
My Darling and I swapped seats and I sat in the back garden with a paperback and sunglasses. It was roasting.
Three-quarters of an hour later my Darling came back and, as I remarked about her lovely haircut, she said to me, “You better come into the shade. You’re burned on your belly.”
And I was.
Not only did I come in hiding from the sun and putting my T-shirt back on, I gave my hot tummy a rub with some after-sun lotion for a bit of first aid.
Whoops!
It was an eventful day and, with tomorrow’s doctor’s appointment coming into view, I thought an early night was in order.
I struggled up the stairs with both hips complaining about why I didn’t use the stair-lift, but I made it up okay one step at a time.
I got to bed with my Darling following my lead, though she was much faster on the stairs.
I heaved myself into bed and got a big lippy kiss from you know who. I asked my Darling if she could hand over the Oramorph for a slug of the good stuff.
She wasn’t long out the door before the squeaks and stifled screams started to shoot out of my mouth where the pills and potions go, and as I tried to settle into a comfortable position I must have dropped off.
Thank you Oramorph.
Thank you my Darling.
Good night,
Take care (especially in the sun)
