annanotbob2's Diaryland Diary


Day 179

Still pissed off. The jug method was a disaster - it is impossible to kneel down while maintaining a 90 degree angle between foot and leg - my foot bent back and really hurt for a long time. So I've been on and off the phone to various medical people during the course of today. Some think the physio guy from orthopedics was covering his back - he can't tell me it'll be OK to walk to the loo during the night because it might not be. Others think I should get a pad - an adult nappy. Apart from how revolting and disgusting that sounds, I can't imagine being able to let go and piss in my bed into a nappy - I know the point is that I only wake up when I'm already pretty close, but I still think it would be too fucking awful. So the current plan is that I do walk to the loo tonight, doing my damnedest to maintain the same angle in my ankle as when it's in the boot and that I hope the Red Cross do get in touch tomorrow about me hiring a commode. Crutches are no good because I am too heavy and too weak to bear my weight in my arms. The shame of having to face that. Ah well.

Hmph. I just actually watched the video they sent me - it has instructions on how to walk with crutches - I can probably do that. More shame for being a dick. Never mind.

I just went and fetched ex-SIL's crutches from the shed and doing it the way she showed on the video, I easily managed that. So that's that problem solved. Good. I'm glad I aired my continence issues all over the internet before I watched the fucking video. Ah well.

Today was counselling with E from the hospice, very nourishing.

Then I did writing with B, and this was my fav bit today, based on our choice from a list of songs about escape. I chose Fire Escape, but didn't notice who it was by. Bella is the central character from my first novel - I'm putting her into these exercises to see what happens:

The fire escape was right outside Bella's window, as it should be, but the ancient, warped, sash window didn't open anywhere near enough for her to get out, just a few inches. Even then it needed a hardback book wedged in to keep it open. It was a beautiful fire escape, made of ornate Victorian cast iron, painted white, with some kind of climbing plant twisting up from the basement, obscuring the ugly 60s flats opposite.

Bella's little Siamese cat could squeeze out of the window and jump across to the fire escape and from there get into all the other flats in the house. Basement Man liked Cat and kept Dreamies as treats for her, crack cocaine for cats - she'd be pestering him day and night, yowling at his door till she'd had the whole pack.

First floor Girl wasn't keen and would shriek, "Cat! Cat!" loudly, expecting to be rescued at once and Cat would be returned to Bella's door, snuggled in the arms of First Floor Girl's handsome boyfriend, purring defiantly.

Sometimes Cat was gone for hours and returned reeking of weed, to curl up in a patch of sunlight and snooze away the rest of the day.

The others thought I should enter this for a flash fiction competition, 250 words. I have 50 words left to round it off with a bit of action, a conclusion, but no ideas as yet. Possibly a lesbian attraction across the hallway, with a different fire escape and no access for Cat (aka Bob).

12:20 a.m. - 10.09.20


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