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THURSDAY 13th AUGUST 2O26
NOT VERY GOOD TODAY
Mentally struggling, and my Coccyx is bleeding.
Bit of a curt, catching-up job, Friday AM. Sorry.
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Passed well last night?
Condiment shelf
Morning shots
Taken by the Carer
Afternoon, by Inchie
Carers organised desk
Evening snap
Blue cheese sarnies,
Sliced potatoes, Tiriyani’s,
Some sweet fish sticks,
Topless Pork Pies,
With on-top pickles.
In the morning I got the s_ _ts,
One giant torpedo, concretish!
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FRIDAY 14th AUGUST
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The most frustrating one for years!
Although it started with actual hope in my heart.
I am in low spirits. So another below-grade, humourless blog is in the offing. I’ll do my best. Doom & Gloom!
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0650: I woke and got the night Catheter bag removed; I actually felt a smidge perky. (Hahahaha! I didn’t know what was coming then!)
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I waddled off to the wet room to get a wash, shave, clean the teggies and, as seems to be the pattern lately, a session on the Porcelain Throne first. It took me even longer than yesterday. The thick, broad, single green-looking torpedo edged its way out. But it took a lot of pain and effort on my part to encourage it.
I imagine it must have been a full ten minutes before it fell into the water below. Oddly enough, the Coccyx was bleeding but not the haemorrhoids.
I set about getting the teeth cleaned. A simple task, you’d think? Not for Inchie, oh, no. I dropped the toothbrush, which hit the edge of the sink and dived almost gracefully into the centre of the WC bowl. I recovered it and left it soaking in a basin to sterilise it. I used an old one and carried on. The old brush was a lot harder than the new one. I was spitting out blood all the time while cleaning the teeth. To my surprise, I’d broken more bits of off a few teeth again. The gap in the top row is so much wider; the top of a water bottle stuck itself between the two teggies left at the front of the mouth later in the day. The lower two teeth around that gap was so loose I think I’ll lose one of them in the day. (I didn’t, though, yet) 
I washed, then shaved with only one teeny-weeny cut, 
I washed, dried, and applied Barrier cream to each area in need that I could find. Privates, belly-fold ones at the front, and under my man-breasts. On the last tube now, but I think Carer Mirza has ordered some.
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 I got some potatoes in the crock-pot. The uninterested Carer arrived while I was finishing off and asked me to pass him a protection pad. No offer of any help in getting them on. He put the Barrier cream on but missed the Coccyx; no blood this morning. I had to remind him as he got on his mobile again. I took just one Oxycodone painkiller. Then put the Barrier cream he’d left near the computer and the skin cleanser he’d left where he was sitting, in my 1963-built, falling-to-pieces Hopewell’s E-Plan Sideboard, with the doors falling off. I asked him to order some night Catheter bags on his next visit.
No answer. He didn’t, of course.
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Today the toe-cutting lady is arriving in the afternoon. So I got out the £35, ready to pay her. I sorted a drawer out and made a tentative start on the daily doggerel.
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Thank heavens it was Ejaz who came to do the long call.
Ejaz did a body check and told me the Coccyx was clear of blood. Issued the medication. We spoke of the British Gas problem, and he asked how Jenny was.
He decided to call the bank early on. To transfer money from my savings account into my current account.

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THIS TURNED OUT TO BE A FARCE!
I) First call: The usual AI voice: “We are very busy, please be patient…” with some piffle added and repeated over the ten minutes we waited.
2) Then the inquisition started. I was expecting them to ask how many spots I’ve got on my bum! Ejaz kept cool, and persisted and was eventually put through to someone else. A full-of-himself, smarmy-speaking snotbag answered the call. Ejaz was repeating what the lady had asked earlier. The line went dead!
Ejaz kept his composure and rang back again.
Me? I was all churned up inside, Livid, shaking, and I thought I had a short seizure while Ejaz waited for the call to be answered. The acid taste pulled me out-of-it. I was not in a good place. 
3) Ejaz went through the ID checks again. The poor lad was near the end of his visit time. He persisted. That lady spoke with me and asked if anyone could vouch for me. That got to me deeply, because I hadn’t! 
The lady then transferred the call to someone else.
4) Another long wait to get through; AI messages got to Ejaz a bit. The whole incident had done me in.  
5) The snotty-voiced one came on again. I’m looking forward to seeing him when we go to the bank on Monday. Ejaz was getting worried about the time.
I was handed the phone and asked him why he was refusing to move my own money between my own bank accounts. Security: cannot and will not do it unless you tell me why and call the bank. No appointment needed, just turn up, can’t you? That got me over the edge.  
Why? Because I have to have Carers, and they cost me about £485 a week. So, £1700+ a month. My pensions are well short of that figure. That is why my bank account has suddenly gone from £18,000 to £3,000 since having the Carers… he just repeated his refusal and demand that I call the bank. “Me: Taxis will cost me £60, Carer will cost me a fortune, so I could run out of money for minor things like paying my rent, buying food, paying the dentist, optician, audio, Internet, Virgin, rates, Norton, Grammarly, window cleaners, toenail-cutter, or even the taxis that I’ve been told to use when the Catheter blocks to the hospital, & cost of the Carers rescort duties, and the £760 montly bill the them. But I don’t suppose you could give a toss!”
I got no response, of course.
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During the losing battle against the oligarchic, uncaring TSB Bank, which took so much longer to lose than I expected.
Here was Ejaz and me; me being naked but for the protection nappy and the Catheter Contraption, and in came the toenail cutter gal. So, in the middle of Ejaz being cut off on the phone by the objectionable antisocial and gerontophobic scum at the TSB Bank. Another person gets my banking details. Every Carer has them, the Warden has them, the NNC Social has them. And the repugnant TSB still won’t let me have my own money! ?!&🏴‍☠️#ers!
I could write a book! A biography, and give it the title of ‘Embarrassing Moments’.
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Toenails clipped at last, for only £35, for a five-minute job. Taking this snap of my feet, I noticed that my legs were still so far reduced in swelling that they looked seriously skinny; the left one. Some new blotches were appearing on both legs, and the feet were down enough for me to get the slippers on, with help.
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Late night before I got the day’s meal prepped & on the tray. Stilton cheese, pickled onions, the last of the pickle-topped pies, gherkins and sliced potatoes.
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SATURDAY 8th AUGUST
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An even worse day today, for memory.
Notes virtually unreadable. Made a lot of them as well; I deciphered a few bits. Not a lot, I admit. I’ve got to stop doing this. I cannot understand why this new affliction has come on so quickly, as well. Three days now.
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Porcelain Throne a Constipation Conrad style.
Carer: Oxycodone taken. Arthritis in neck, far worse.
Phorpained shoulder, neck and knees.
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Carer Ahmed: Said he would arrange a takeaway meal for me from the Willow House. Then found they will not enter our flats; we have to fetch food from the lobby door. I thanked him, but gave up on the idea. Ahmed said he could collect it on his way in. Smashing!
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I called Jenny. She offered to get the British Gas non-showing of electricians on four occasions, on Monday, bless her cotton socks.
The next page was total rubbish; I could hardly make of a handful of words. Eyesight is the problem, I think, the Cararact? Don’t know.
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Ahmed returned, and I realised he meant another day. The Willow was closed. Jenny 🧑🏼‍❤️‍🧑 said she could go down to fetch me the meal. So kind. But, of course, it did not come. I had to have a meal of bread, tomatoes and crisps. Just too tired to make anything.
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SUNDAY 9th AUGUST
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Up unwillingly just before six. After an even more regularly jumping-awake-all-night session was enjoyed. When I did eventually give up trying to get any worthwhile sleep, and gingerly, slowly, very slowly, I bent down to take off the oddly well-filled Catheter night pouch, the need for the Porcelain Throne developed.
Making the hobble to the wet room, I had so many bodily pains, I didn’t know which was the worst.So many to choose from this morning; Arthrits in the neck and right shoulder was noticed first. Then, the bruised coccyx as soon as I sat on the loo, knocking my injured left arm wound. Constipation ruled this session. I spent ages urging, pushing and could feel the blood coming from my haemorrhoids. 
When finally getting up from the porcelain, I grabbed then dropped the new toilet roll. I don’t think I need to tell you what it fell in, do I?
I cautiously bent down holding the grab bar, and gave myself one heck of a toe-stubbing! Right on the longest-nailed toe, the big one! I realised that my stomach, just emptied, was swelling up almost visibly! Naturally this pain and cock-uppery was taken with a smile. Ahem!
Then I cleaned up, and limped into the kitchen, to make up a 2-litre spring water bottle to keep the Catheter happy.
The Carer arrived later, taking a photo and commenting on my expanded middriff. The feet and toes were a bother all day. I can’t wear slippers of shoes. I may manage to bear the slippers on, if I get someone to help, and cut a knick in them? Of course I’ve not had the Catheter leak on me for several days, so I might risk cutting them, so I can wear them for the hospital visit on… on, erm… just checked on the calendar, this Wednesday. I’ll get it in the neck for not taking a Carer, but can’t afford to. My shoes are simply too painful to wear; no wonder the toe-stubbs hurt so much. And both legs have gone really thin again? Chicken legs!
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Carer Ahram came while I was working on the first part of this blog. Barrier creamed the belly mould, underarms and Phorpain gelled shoulders, underarms, man-breasts and neck for me. Heeven spees mopped the kitchenette floor. This lad only needs asking once.
He remembers, and is a nice, gentle bloke.
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Ahmed: Surprisingly, on his teatime call, when I asked him to change the Catheter pouch for me, he didn’t do it. But did give my feet a wash and dry, putting on athlete’s foot powder afterwards, and issued the medication, followed by a full safety check of the flat.
The feet are now feeling a little less painful.
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Having very little fresh food left, I’ve made an order on Iceland for Tuesday or Wednesday. I investigated what tinned food I can pick from. (Five out of date found).
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I was so worn out, mentally and possibly physically, that I did not eat the prepared meal. I’ll have it tomorrow, earlier if things work out, before the fading and tiring-out dawns on me, and Arthur Itis and Shaking Shoulder Shirley kick off. These two and Colin Cramps are virtually guaranteed around 20:00hrs.
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