Inchie: Mon 29 Mar 2026: Shuddering-Shoulder-Shirley supported by Back-Pain-Brenda & Cracked-Ribs-Roger assisting, Computer Zonked!

31/03/202631/03/2026 / Inchie / 6 Comments

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A day of more pain than when I was in the hospital. Mainly Bad-Back-Brenda, Shaking-Shoulder-Shirley and Cracked-Rib-Ruella. Shirely being the lead aggressor. But differently today for Ruella. The pains came and went at random. Then again, so did the shuddering.
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Angel Jenny was away at her relative’s adobe in Chesterfield, I believe. I hope she had a lovely few days, a good change, and great chinwags, not forgetting! 🤎
She deserves a break from me and my problems lately. Hehe!
But this Sunday has been calmer. Not being able to make contact with the bank on a Sunday is less stressful. I just hope tha the oligarchal British Gas does not cut the power to my electricity meter. Please!
Carer Ejaz arrived. I ask him again to get me a list of the Carer’s new call times so I do not get caught out or confused. No answer was the reply. He looked at the new medications on his desk. Then Phorpain gelled Shuddering Shirley and Backache Brenda.

Oddly, I think I had several mini-seizures today, but with none of the upflux of acid after each of them, morning and afternoon. Of course, the dizziness and lack of balance were there. Toothache Tiffany joined in late afternoon. Bad enough for me to use Toothyache Spray and take an extra Co-Codamol.

Back on track.
Two snaps were taken of the morning view, and I tried to make it look like one wide shot. I failed.

I considered the current nine prob;ems I am having since getting back from the hospital. I decided that the Bank blocking my card, British Gas threatening to cut off my power, and Grammarly not being paid might mean I lose it. But can’t do anything until my money… if, I have any left, is released to pay off Grammarly and buy some food. Dunnit sound awful? It is!

Got on with the blogging, belatedly. And either fell asleep, or had a mega seizure that I think lasted an hour. No way of knowing after I’d been certain I’d had some, upflux-free ones in the morning. Life is so
complicated since I finished work, and in some way busier; fighting of the Oligarchs, British Gas, TSB Bank, Virgin Media, and Liberty Global, etc. How I found time to go to the hospital for so long, I don’t know. Not that anyone noticed. (🎼Sad violin music🎼 Haha!)

Ejaz did a 15 minute call. Gave me medications, then Phorpaine Gelled the shoulder and back for me. I asked him to help me open a can of Water Chestnuts. We added them to the Sweet Tiyaki Sauce, and baked beans in a microwave tub to marinate.

The oddest mixture was released on my Porcelain Throne visitation.

A different angle of the end car park was taken on the balcony. Despite it raining, I saw no mud slide on the ground. Well, a little bit. Then to the kitchen to take this shot of the front car park. I regret doing this. As I closed and twisted the window handle, the ribs kicked off with more force.

Ejaz next call and we had a bottle of Malt each, and a quick natter. Mostly over my concern that we must talk to my bank manager tomorrow, without a doubt.

Later, the rain returned. I took this shot through the closed window in the kitchenette.
Then a sudden Dizzy Dennis attack all but had me over. Enough of that, I got the meal in the oven, and closed the computer. It was time to anyway, as Cataract Katie was foggin over, itching like mad, and at times it was painful. Going to get the meal made. Carefully, as Dizzy Dennis was persistent now. Coming in waves.
Back in the morning, I hope.
Darn it, no Enoxaparing left. I must get some ordered, I’ll ask Ejaz to do it for me. If he calls again.
The computer went down, and it took me hours to get it back. No idea what I did to get it back, but expect the same next time I use it (Now).

Carer Dilan got on to the bank about the blocked card. Ending with him saying the card is now unlocked.
They sent an email saying the same.
I could lose Asda, Grammarly, British Gas, Rent, mobile, landline, EMAILS and WordPress payments were not made, and getting messages and threats from so many debts I owe.
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,Comp down, sticking, need Asif to help fit a new one. No access to email anything. And how do I pay the man, without my bank card operative?
Took me half an hour to tyoe the above, blocking, sticking, in a mess.
Waht next?
Just noticed Grammarly not working, they may have blocked me for non-payment. Maybe I did something lethal in trying to get back online. Try again in the morning. The end is high.

peed off, depressed… I pray I can get the computer tp open in the AM. If not…

Inchie 17th to 29th March 2026: 11 more days in hospital. Mega Depressed!

29/03/2026 / Inchie / 17 Comments

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Today’s ailments in charge, and I believe enjoying giving me pain, the most uncomfortable are: Shaking-Shoulder-Shirley in 2nd-second place, well below my so-painful newly developed one. Going by the name of, currently anyway, Cracked-Rib-Craig. Later in the day, Crack Rib Craig’s pains tripled. Carer Ejaz called ICC & was advised to call 111. Which he did. As a result, an ambulance is on the way. These were the 11 days in 2 hospitals and 5 different wards: utter frustration.
Ejaz could only stay until the paramedics arrived; he had to shoot off when they arrived. I asked him to contact Paul with the details via email, and showed him where the link was in the Excel Contact listing to pass along for me. That was a comfort, stops folks from fretting at my absence. I suppose.
The ambulance men were also in a rush, and asked me to leave my big coat and not to take any sticks with me as they would only get nicked. I was in no state to argue, but paid the price when I realised I’d left my camera, mobile, card and cash in the greatcoat. Naturally, in all that time, with no pen, pad or contact, the only person who tried to contact me, not surprisingly, was Jenny, My Angel.

We got to the QMC, and I joined an estimated 34 trolleys in the A&E corridors. Someone came shortly to diagnose me, and I was wheeled ahead of the corridors on a trollied patient’s stretcher straight to the cardiac PET team in a side room. I only managed to catch a few readings, but a smidgen concerned, at my blood sugar showing 4.5. After some of the sickly sweet bottles were forced down me, and off the scan, then the X-ray rooms. Then I was moved into a Geriatric Neurology Ward. In the evening, after scrounging a pen and a paper towel, the readings I noted were 169-68, 8. Blood oxygen 92 71. Apart from the blood sugar at 2.6 now, I thought I’d be okay and on my way home soon.

The chest pains got worse, though. The deep breaths they asked me to take on the second visit from the cat team were the most painful to date.
Overnight, many regular checks were taken, but… the blood sugar did not increase despite the clumps of sweet water it was, and sugary drinks were taken.
The next day, they moved me to the Geriatrics, Blue ward. I had visits from the neurology, Cardiac, and Warfarin-INR checks, which I was sure would be okay, because they have been for weeks now, not NO! The INR returned as 1.2; my target was 3 to 3.5. This prompted them to start giving me Enoxaparin injection in my tummy. The nurse who gave the first one to me left a large blood spot and asked if they are usually this big. I explained that the Enoxaparin was injected in a downward direction and the full length of the needle was not fully in before she injected it. She looked agaog. I did them myself after that one. Here is a snap I took when I finally got home. I’ll explain why later. I got home many days later to take this snap just before midnight, of the original injection. It’s been weeks since I self-injected, but I can remember how they told me to do it. A smug mode sneaked in amongst the frustrations. Haha!
Then, the 24-bed Geriatric Assessment Unit (GAU) was launched in July 2024. (4×6 Beds wards What a nightmare. Little knowing what was to come later. I reassess it as not a very good experience. Hehehe!
But this was my most confusing period. After the 2nd day in there, things were beginning to feel easier, and the blood sugar level was up to 4.8. Don’t laugh, but I cannot recall which department the next Doctor was from. He pointed out the bruises from the blood tests, which two days earlier were bright, were now fading very fast; my pallor was ghostly, and I needed some specialist investigations. Also, that morning, my BP was 187/63, temperature was down to 25.0, and Blood Sugar was back down to 2.6. I think she was a diabetologist. Anyway, I was stuffed with orange juice, more rock-solid lumps of cake, and sickly-sweet boosters. The next day, I was transferred to the City Hospital. By then, Toothache Tiffany had started to kick off, and my urine colour was a 7 for the next three days. Each time I went to the loo, which averaged five or six visits a day, a frame supplied to get there, there was blood on the gown from my external haemorrhoids, every time. Then, whatever it was called up the bum to get samples, photos and cream applied. The outside ones were the more painful. I suppose, due to all the lying on my backside for so long. The INR slowly rose a smidgen, showing the benefit of the prefilled 9-foot-long hypodermic syringe, inserted in the belly, times a day. Obviously, that was a joke; it wasn’t that long or anywhere near it, just felt like it. I believe, for some unknown reason, I cheered up a little that day and wandered into another of the mini wards, Yellow. And started a chinwag with two of the people in there. I called on the last two days as well.
Then the night shift ignored every call for help from men needing to use the toilet, empty their catheters, or drink. I found out why: from my bed, I could see the outer door and some of the staff coming in with coats over their uniforms, carrying takeaways. As soon as they’d noshed it, a nurse returned to the bay. He reminded me of Sonny Liston, but didn’t speak as much. This was another bad night because, apparently, as Dave from Yellow Ward told me, the TVs were being repaired, and it was terrible listening to them with the hearing aids in, so I took them out. But forgot to open the battery compartment. They ran flat. Plucking up the courage the next day to ask if they had any, a nurse who had not responded to my attempted forms of wit before, yes, yes, I’ll get you some, and returned minutes later with a pack of eight, for free! The tinny cracking coming from the night watch lady’s desk and the chap in the next bed’s TV. The atmosphere improved when I had a visit from the Cardiac and Warfarin folk, who told me that if all goes well with the next set of checks, they would be able to sign me off! I hoped for the best, and my parole would come through in the morning.
The diabetic tests, well, all four were much improved, and he said he’s signing me out later that day. Oh, the Joy! Getting back to see my Jenny Angel before she goes on her trip to see her Chesterfield relatives with Frank. Great! How hoopefull and stupid I was to think it would happen!
The Neurologist then gave me the all-clear. Bags of new medications to sort out. New painkillers, back on the Morphine again, but by gum, they do work. Others that they may have told me what they were for or not, but you know me. The only certainty is certainly a matter of credence, rather than factuality sometimes. My rare doubtlessness is misunderstood credibility. I think?
Some, well, masses of paperwork to get help with. I won’t bother Jenny or Frank until they get back from their break. That was the plan… Dang dang, fang Dang!
I was due to be parolled at 1030hrs the following day.
I nipped into Yellow Ward to tell the lads, and got back into bed, ready for my vegetable balls in gravy, onions & courgette medley meal.
Dare I say it, I was feeling chirpy! Yee-Ha! But as I was enjoying my meal, a nurse informed me that the Neurologist had not passed for parole! Sob! I may have got the department out of sync here? His results would be known in the morning. If they are good enough, he will sign me off. We felt they would be, and encouragingly, they told me I’d be leaving in the morning, lift arranged for 1330hrs.
Very early in the mornings, a nurse was getting my carrier bag and keys out of the locker, and I just knew it was good news. And, it was! All cleared! But again, a new course of medication to be sorted, and three bags of medications to add to take home with me. So many things to take in at once.
I enjoyed the online. shower of the hospital visits, as I did the earlier one shave they let me have.

Saturday: Full of joy and hope, after the shower, they bunged my things into carriers, cleaned my bed for the next victim, then moved me into the Departure lounge, to await the promised lift home in plenty of time for the 01330hr lift. And, only two escapees to go, me and an old Scottish chap. At 1500hrs, a lady rang to see where the lift was. It’ll be here shortly.
1600hrs: She rang again. It will be here at 1700hrs.
The poor Scottish man decided to take a taxi, which was not an option for me due to Chloe & Carol’s cartilage in my knees. I did mention that DG supply a larger type of taxi that Jenny Angel uses. But I could not remember the name of it. And she called again. It will be here by 2000hrs.
Not surprisingly, my confidence was low, very low. The room I was left in was so cold. Medical staff kept walking through it in a back room, the smell of poo permeating into the room as they left again.
There seems to be another call to them, that the City Hospital did not want to give me a lift, cause it was the QMC’s job? So sayeth the computer lady.
All I had on was a hospital gown, and it had not been washed for 12 days. I started sneezing. That brought back the rib pains as I waited. I found a crossword book, but without the reading glasses, I could not even have a go at that. Then, I wonder what I will find when, or if ever, I get back to the flat.
I think it was nearly ten o’clock when the ambulance arrived. The tension was sensed immediately in the two ambulance personnel, stand-offish at first, I thought, but how I felt after an 11-hour wait, mixed with the worries of what I would find. In the ambulance, I used my humour to force them to communicate. By the time we got back to the flat, they asked if I could manage with the walker and bags to get up there. Ahem! As we got into the lift I let my fears pour our and told them that British gas sai9d the metere will stop working unless I supply them with a read, and it me £26 for the tow failed calls to them to explain we do not know how to read the meter, finally the human we got to0 talk to, spent an hour telling Carer Ejaz how to read the meter, but the coloured buttons where no on the box. He emailed them photos, but eventually she asked me if I wanted an engineer to come and look at it. I replied Yes, please, that would be marvellous!
No one came, now threats of turning off the power!
They mellowed when we got in the flat, and they saw the great stack of mail delivered while I was in the hospital, 9 letters that need reading and reacting to. The Bank, City Council, and two medical ones were amongst them that I recognised. Then I opened the carriers. As you see, loads of new and old medications.
Paperwork that I cannot read must be baffling to anyone without cataracts. How can I rely on someone to know enough to be confident to sort them for me? I’ve already got boxes, some opened, some not, of Catheter Caroles Contraption, medication all over and under the Carers table, and the prescription medical stuff has spread into another drawer. Recognising the new will be risky with the Morphine and antibiotics. Which am I to keep taking, which am I to stop taking, if any? This could be a dangerous situation. And the poor Carer has to
He keeps to his timetable and does not even get time with the extra time to catch up on anything.
A Social lady said that Age UK can provide help with shopping. That would be grand, but they said that last time I was in the hospital. I’ve heard nothing. I’m all het-up now again. It got worse. I had to throw away all the fresh food in the fridge that was out of date, except the cheese. I lost the plot there, back to couriers at home. They asked me to press the alarm alert, and I did. They told the operator who I was and of my returning home. Then, something I’d been looking forward to so much, a good, strong mug of Glengettie. I got the kettle on and noticed that the slow cooker had been left on for 11 days, with cracks appearing, and it was bone dry.
As if all this was not enough for suicide, the Bank had blocked my account. Great, if anyone does come to help with the shopping now, I can’t afford any. Who can I get to go to the Bank with me, after helping me find the problem and if one, a solution?
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To think, yesterday all I was looking forward to was getting home to see Jenny & Ejaz. I think my mistake was asking the nurses to update my situation. I think this morning at around 0800hrs is the next call.
So, nobody had checked on the flat! ,

I got this update done up to here. It’s now 0620hrs, Sunday morning, and I’m in a worse state than ever.
Which indicates that Ejaz didn’t call once to let Paul know the situation, or do a safety check.

Mind you, he was in a rush when he’d called the ambulance. My fault.

I’m not sure I’ll be able to do a blog for a while, so much to get sorted, and I just don’t know if I’m going to react, medically, over the situation.
I can see things still not getting done, Oh, dearie me.
Now I may lose Grammarly and the internet connection, not to mention the landline and mobile.
British Gas is still telling me the meter is being shut down? Not my fault. Carers have tried their best to help, but the amount of money it costs when they put them onto AIs without the required “why are you ringing” list? Cut you off three times, and you have to pay the connection fee and ridiculous per-minute charges, not to mention the Bank wants to see me.
That’s another thing, who can I get to go with me to the bank meeting? Last time I had to take a Carer with me… the problems are too much.
Thanks for reading this pathetic winning crap.
Away for 11 days… what do I come back to… I’m so sorry. No point in moaning, I know. But I’m getting deeper into a maelstrom of uncontrolled situations. None of my fault, I believe. This makes things worse; I still need of so much help that is not coming.

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I’m turning into a blubbering, worry-wracked
nervous, incompetent, incapable waster.
Just mentioning the obvious.
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Something’s gotta give…
CHEERS
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Yours, Inchie The Defeated.
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Inchie Today: Thursday 19th March 2026

20/03/2026 / Inchie / 11 Comments

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06:15hrs: The rib injury was bad to start with. Large intakes of breath, coughing, laughing, all hurt. Pouch taken off. I took a snap of the morning kitchen view.
Any of the following may be out of sync, for vagarity and confusion spread their wings. Until , when the electrical and technological problems all arrived one after the other. I panicked and rang Jenny, my Angel, to ask her to please call the computer man in the morning. As per usual, her logic and understanding were perfect. She read the stress in my voice. Calmly telling me to turn everything off until morning and try again. Which I did, and it came back on. Albeit with different, too small icons that I struggle to see. At least now I can cross my fingers (well, I can’t actually, but I can figuratively) and see how it goes.
Thanks to Jenny. 🤎

Whatever is under my man breast that appeared yesterday, the top picture taken by my Carer Ejaz, this morning, showed a great improvement, and the bleeding had stopped altogether. I can’t say the same for the rib cracking. This remains a blinding, blooming nuisance. I can’t see any bruising at all. But when it happened, I was bending to retrieve a dropped remote, and felt pain and heard a sort of grinding noise. I think it must have been a rib causing the problem. It is the same today (Fri), the slightest bend, stretch, even when I press down on the walking stick it hurts. Yet not moving, sitting down, unless I stretch my arm out or up, there is no bother? Which is excellent, because I’ve got a Little Inchies fungal lesion going through agony as well, from the refitted Catheter tube.
No more moans, I promise: well, I’ll try. Haha!

Belatedly made a start on Wednesday’s blog. Talk about a backlog, I’ve got an ever-increasing backlog of backblog blogs to do. 😄

Carer Rashid changed the leathery, crocodile-like legs. Well, more ankles now. Foamed them and rubbed in ointment in the cracks.

The sun broke through as it rose behind the prison, offering me a photo opportunity. Oh, prison? I meant to write block of flats. Or did I?

Ejaz was pleased with how the hand injury was now healing and was now awaiting the scab to fall off.
He offered to pick it off for me, jokingly, of course.

Then the computer froze!
First, as I was in CorelDraw, which often does this to me. I knew it would not let me save the work I’d done. Depressing, more time lost! I could not close the programme either. Cursing and praying it would come back on, I turned off the power.
Gave it ten minutes or so, and rebooted.

Opened CorelDraw… message told me this file is not saveable – you can work on it, but not save your work – something like that. So, I closed it again.

Then I turned off the computer properly and restarted Windows. What a mess. All the widows’ desktop icons were so minuscule that it was impossible to identify which was which. All off again.

All on Again. The icons were even smaller this time. I upended CorelDraw, this time it opened the last edited without any warning messages… Ahahaha! Great.
An hour later, all the things became unresponsive, bar the mousse, but clicking on anything on the CorelDraw page produced various different, some never been seen before options, but never the binding box.
I decided that I’d close CorelDraw down, and ring Angel Jenny to ask her to call Asif, the computer man, for me, as this problem, or I should add solution, was well out of my reach. I opened Google to search for advice…
ARRGH!
I could not input any text in the search bar at all!
Clicking to open programme icons, nothing!

I turned everything off again and walked away.
I was distraught to say the least. Angry, Frustrated, Sorry-for-myself… pathetic really.
Depression grew even stronger now. I felt so low, and yet I took two photographs as I wandered hobblingly around the cell… no… the flat.
My mind went from raging to almost crying, and a loathsome self-hatred joined in. I felt what I was, I’m afraid, so sad!

Later, after a good while of musing and confusing myself, I returned to the computer. I knew it was not going to work, yet still I gave it a go. Huh!
This time, the desktop icons were all over the place, and still too tiny to identify. I tried Google, Notepad, Corel ’rotten’ Draw, and MS Word. And the screens started to shudder a little. But this could have been due to Galucoma Glady’s, Cataract Katie, or my being in such an uptight condition, my Neurotransmitters. Turned everything off yet again and left it.

I called Jenny 🤎 to ask her to please contact Asif for me. The connection was not good; I struggled with the fast speech and an echo on the line.
I think Jen advised me to turn everything off, which I had been doing for the last three hours, Hahaha! Jenny said she leaves hers off overnight, and it can come back on in the morning. I felt so tense, so I decided to do that and try it in the morning.

To keep my mind off of the computer, I got the meal prepped. Ejaz called and served it up. But it feels all wrong eating with someone sitting there on their mobile phone, making a report. Nothing wrong with it, but for years I’ve lived and eaten on my own, and the habit of eating while watching a TV programme is part of my way of preparing for sleep, I suppose. Also, I forgot to take a photo of the nosh.

After finishing the meal, after Ejaz left, saying he would lock the door for me, bless him, I went to wash the pots, and just had to take these snaps of the latter part of the sunset.
A warmth emanated from the view, with maybe perhaps including a hint of a threat?

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Can it get any worse?
Have I been given a curse?
Why am I penning this verse?
Cause my problems are diverse?
BrainStorm, thinking in Morse?.
Who can help with my annoyances?
Starmer, Einstein or Zeus?
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TTFN
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Inchie: Wednesday 18th March 2026

19/03/202619/03/2026 / Inchie / 4 Comments

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It will save me a lot of time in my efforts to catch up if I mention things that took place here and include the few photos taken afterwards, with a little detail where I can remember anything. Which is not a lot.
Up at 06:30hrs. Pouch taken off – Ocado order arrived.
Carer Rashid. Feet done, meds. According to my notes, the next item was… bintop usl nurse, bnge log?
Blog, Carer Mizra called to tell me the extra hours start this week. Offered to make a meal, but I thanked him, not feeling hungry at all. Mizra did a mail-check. One, I think, is needed by Deana or NCC’s Assessment. I must find out from Deana, I must. An NCC form to be filled in online. Mizra said we’d do it later, together.
He also said we would go shopping together in Sherwood sometime. Mizra took the laundry down, and Jenny, my Angel, bless her, will sort it from there. Frank is bringing it back up for me. Mizra changed the day Catheter, from a butterfly to the last T-tap one. Ordered some more via the District Nurses. Bless him.
Nurse two. Window cleaners arrived. £12 for cleaning the balcony pod. Nice lads.
CorelDraw problems, that cost me 2 hours to get right… Well, I say right, it went again in the evening, and I had to leave it and cross fingers I could remember what I did last, it froze… Getting myself confused here.
Frank returned the laundry for me, all Jeny-folded and properly dried. Thank you, Jenny, my Angel.
Another bit of guesswork or translation is needed on the next line of the notepad; Best my evening -time eyes could make out, of what I’d written: Bert (likely best?), robs mosd fod gle?/t, hop. I spent a while trying to work out what I meant, and gave up.
The next lines were as plain as brass! Written with a pressed-on pen and in much larger writing.
“ARRGH!” I bent forward to pick up the TV remote to watch ‘Heartbeat’ on the box. Pulling it out of the chair sleeve, visited and I dropped it back into the sleeve. I quickly bent further in an effort to grab it again, and I felt and heard a short crunching sound from the left ribcage. That was without my hearing aids in. Oh, by gum, it did hurt! It still does, 16 hours later! I gave up on the computer; even moving my left arm to type was too painful. I’m naming it “Rib Cracking Ruby”. I’m praying it will have eased in the morning. (it didn’t!) Ejaz later took a shot of it.
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Morning view.

What a load of laundry to get done.
Thanks to Jenny & Frank, all got done.

The last food delivery was delivered to me.
I hope, at least. To be going out to the shops, or am I hoping for too much here?

Scars from whatever happened as I bent down to get the TV remote. Confused? So was I when I first looked at this photo. The blue bits on top are Carer Ejaz’s gloves. He was holding up my left man-breast to get at the ribs for a photograph. I assume it is internal bleeding caused by the rib cracking.
I get pain whenever I move, to varying degrees from “Rib Cracking Ruby”, when I put pressure on either walking stick, she stings as well. When I lift, stretch or bend even in the slightest bit, I’ve got new ailment, “Rib Cracking Ruby”, old ailments “Shaking-Shoulder-Shirley” and “Back-Pain-Brenda” giving me stick.
As I was typing this, “Anne Gyna” kicked off!
Unease expands and thrives uncontrollably as I struggle with whether to call 111.
After my last two experiences at A&E, the last thing I want to do is go there. It will involve me washing and shaving, getting dressed, and catching a bus and then a tram to get there. Last visit, it was stored for 18 hours in a corridor before I got to see a Doctor. So, you can see my concerns and doubts. Then, after 23 hours in the hospital, I got sent home at 01:30 hours, with no money for a taxi, no buses.
I think it’s best to give it a day or two to see if things improve. Fingers crossed. Well, I would cross them but for “Colin Cramps” & “Arthur Itis”.

Still, on the bright side… erm… er… like, well,
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Inchie: Tue 17 March 2026. Bloodied (3) & Wee’d on (2).

18/03/2026 / Inchie / 8 Comments

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Such a busy, calamity-ridden day today.
I have just got around to creating this blog, and it is Wednesday, 18 March 12:30hrs. And has started as an even busier day. Confusion reigns. Hopes destroyed, Brainbox baffled. A smidge fed-up.
BUT, I MUST CONCENTRATE ON TODAY’S BLOG
Try to avoid chronological and fact mix-ups. Shortage of time means cutbacks on detail again.
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05:00hrs: I leapt out of the bed, yodelling as I removed the Catheter night bag. Then the innards demanded that I attend the
ASAP. So, I did. The flow began, the flow continued, on and on and on… During the longest ever flow of semi-liquid I’ve ever had, I remembered I had a food delivery arriving. I thought I’d mention this to anyone who knows me and my conditions, so I can brag, for once. 👍🏼 Hehe!

Into the kitchen to take some snaps of the view on offer.
Not very good efforts, but I did my best. Then washed the pots, left in the sink from last night’s evening meal. Then back to the
. Where was it all coming from? Got my ablutions done while in the wet room. Cleaned the teggies first, then had a wet shave (3 cuts, little nicks really).
Cleaned and medicated or Little Inchies bleeding fingal lesion. Lost a good bit of blood this time.
A third visit, this time, Trotsky Terence was overcome by Constipation Colin. A complete reversal. So much so, the next thing was Harold-Haemorrhoids bleeding! But today’s habit of bleeding had only just started.

The memory notes are getting harder to decipher now; from here on, they mysteriously grow smaller. Some of them were unreadable. I made no guesses. I just skipped them.

As I was making a brew of Co-op 99 tea, guess what I needed again? The ! Yet another turnaround, back to Trotsky Terence mode! And a lot of it. I am beginning to worry about these changes so regularly, and on the same day. The blood had gone onto the Kaghoule, and I had to change it. Putting it in the already full laundry bag.

08:10hrs. The Carer arrived. Checked the ankles and, as he changed the Catheter to make it less painful, noted blood on the PPs from Harold’s Haemorrhoids. And the new scar on the Catheter leg. He creamed it and photographed it.
Just to prove that I am a bit of a high-quality, dimwitted twit, I lost my reading glasses. I did a thorough search, but it proved unsuccessful. Which is me all over.

Carer Mizra called to tell me the extra hours start this week. Offered to make a meal, but I thanked him, not feeling hungry at all. I explained the problems with the butterfly catheters. He said he would sort it later on in the week.

The blood sample taker arrived, and while she was here, Carer Rashid arrived. A smidgeon of confusion between the three of us cost me dearly.
She did not press and hold the cotton wool on long enough, and a few minutes later, I felt the warm liquid, formerly known as blood, as it trickled down my arm on the inside and spread over the new dressing gown. By the time I’d got it off, unaided, I may add, blood was all over my arm, leg and right foot. Mostly, though, on the new dressing gown. This is the third dressing gown today, and the second kaghoule that I’ve had to take off and put into the laundry bag! Lucky? Me? No, more Accifaupas to come yet, the day is not done…

Carer Ejaz sneaked this photo of yours truly, the luckiest man alive. I was battling with the computer to get it to respond to my requests. So, I took one back of him as he was making his report of this visitation. A handsome young brute of a lad. Looks like a male model to me. Jealous? Me? Well, maybe just a little tiny, weeny bit. Haha!

I took this snap from the kitchenette window, of the slowly darkening skies. Then had to hastily shoot off, yet again, to the . And would you believe it, was back in charge of the evacuation process? With a well-watery squirting out session that pebble-dashed the porcelain, and bounced back on my bottom! I don’t suppose you needed to hear that. Sorry. Took me an aeon to get cleaned up again.

I went to make a rare-today mug of Glengettie, as my eyes grew tireder and blurrier as the evening dawned, followed by, and I finally got on WordPress.

I found the unreadable notes and gave up until tomorrow, with the idea of writing a blog. However, I did make a start on the Ode, using MS Word. After an hour or so, I realised that I had a wet right leg. I investigated the Catheter, but all seemed okay. Puzzled, I put it down to sweat and carried on.
After a while, my groin felt wet, so I investigated again.
ARGGH!
It was the new Catheter the nurse fitted, with the top connector near the groin, that came off this time! By now, I realised the slipper sock and foot were soaked. Lucky? Me?
ARGGH!

TTFN

Inchie Today: Monday 16th March 2026

17/03/202617/03/2026 / Inchie / 6 Comments

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0630hrs: I removed the nocturnal Catheter pouch and bounded out of my bed… Well, to be more accurate, painfully slowly got my legs on the floor and did my balance exercises. This indicated care was needed in standing and hobbling about this morning. To err on the safe side, I sat down on the bed and gave it about 10 minutes before trying again. Much better.
I picked up the night bag and changed plans as the innards indicated an urgent need, which was virtually on the way, to use the services of the Porcelain Throne.
I made it in time, but only just. As I bent to connect my bottom to the plastic lid, the orange-coloured torrent began flowing. Messy again. I used that much toilet roll, the bum was sore as Hell by the time I’d cleaned things up. And the Anusol ointment tube was almost empty after use. A quick wash, teggies, olive-oiled the earholes, and hobbled off to make a brew of Glengettie tea.
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Took a shot from the kitchenette window. I dropped the milk getting it out of the fridge, a carton, so at least I didn’t have glass to clean up again. Splashes of its spurting milk, I reckon, were found on every wall, counter, and cabinet. Not to mention my dressing gown, legs, slippers and the floor. I now have a rather full laundry bag, after changing clothes and cleaning up. Noticing that I’d missed some milk between the cooker and the cabinet, I got a paper towel in and bent down a little to reach the stray milk… I hit my lip on the corner of the cabinet top. Thus, started, and a cut lip.

So, nothing unusual was happening here, yet.

I took a snap of the end of the car park from the balcony. However, I feel I’d taken this earlier and already posted it? Hum?

A new Carer, Rashid, arrived. Helped with foot medicating and cleaning. Offered to make breakfast and a cuppa, but I’d had a cuppa and would not eat breakfast. Though I may have some bikkie dunking in Glengettie or Co-op 99 tea sessions.
I tried to get Rashid to call the Falls Team for me, but it toook a while. I thanked them for coming and agreed to their chosen day and time. Asked him to arrange for some more Anusol.

Two Nurses came in. They were going to remove the old and put in a new Catheter contraption for me.
See silly Ode. We had a laugh and a natter as they did it. It didn’t take them long this time. They walloped me on the bed and set about me. (Nice!) They got the tube back on the first try. Nice ladies.

A very interesting few lines on the memory pad here. As best I can read or guess my own handwriting & version of shorthand. Email frugle dank jen away. Purt cal on LL. Cado ord made. Must ring HRP. Nost. 1620 Ejaz bak, in trup cold happy.

Ejaz arrived as I was taking these two snaps of the late-day skies from the kitchen windows. Medications issued, Shuddering-Shoulder-Shirley and Back-Pain-Breanda were both Phorpain-gelled. Before leaving, Ejaz helped me get the nosh prepared, and as he went, the lad reminded me not to leave the stove on or the tap running.
The chips were slightly undercooked, and the chicken sausages were soft and served with garden peas. This appeased a little. Then, as I left the things in the sink to soak overnight, I took a quick point-and-snap of the offer view. It was not until Tuesday that I got around to dealing with this blog, and I realised how it had come out… Artistic?
I swear there were no greens, light blues or yellows when I took the shot. Admittedly, I did it quickly without lining up as I usually would. I don’t think the moon was out either; then again, the moon doesn’t shine like that, does it?
Ah, I see repetitive sorts of lighting shapes. By Jiminne, I think I’ve worked it out, and who to thank for the artisticness . Or, with a possibility of playing a part. But the last two come under the umbrella and lack of control of so I needn’t have said all that.

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The Nurses’ Input Helped!
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Overall, a better day… but I’m not
getting Smug, for I now know…
What will happen to me on
Monday… Much loss of blood, via
three separate Accifauxs.
Yes, back to usual tomorrow!
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🌸 TTFNski each 🌸
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Inchie Today: Sunday 15th March 2026

16/03/2026 / Inchie / 5 Comments

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This will be a little bare, sorry. Time rules.

Morning views

I found another piece of
the jar I dropped & broke.

Carer’s medicines table

Another mystery,
Why did I take this?
Did I take this?
When?

Evening meal, soup
and bread again.
Oh, I do live well!

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Note that due to time going so fast,
being so far behind with the blog,
and time spent with the comput…
No, no, No Moaning!
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Inchie Today: Saturday 14th March 2026

15/03/2026 / Inchie / 6 Comments

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I thought I’d start this long-delayed blog off with a selfie that I took this morning. Yes, well, I may have been fibbing a smidgeon there. Look at me then, no hearing aids, had hair, had teeth, no glasses, skinny, not obese, full of hope. No electricity, no running hot water, 1d gas meter, crumbling walls, dimples, pimples, seems I was as tall as nine bricks…
Memory Moments over, on with the blog.
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I woke up at 06:30hrs, bounded out of the bed, jumped over the recliner while taking off my night Catheter bag, landing on the recliner and bounced with a double somersault to the balcony doors, whipped open the door, and took this snap of the much flooded end car park while yodelling good morning to the world…
Oh, all right then, back to reality. But it’s a terrible thing, that’s reality, I prefer fantasy. Hehe!
I’ll start again, it’s not pretty…
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I had to force my aged, gargantuan flobby-body out of the bed, cause somehow I’d tangled the Catheter tube, and little Incies’ fungal lesion was bleeding more than usual. To the wetroom to clean things up, do my teggies and have a quick wash.
Taking this snap on the right of the end of the car park’s bigger-than-normal mudslide. They need to put wellies on to get to the car.
Off to the wetroom, hobbling casually, and the moment my bottie was over the porcelain as I was bending down to land on the plastic seat…
Whoosh, splatter, all done!
But, it wasn’t yet. Six times I had to visit today, then again when I’d got settled into the bed, get up for one yet again! My bottie is sore.

Got on the computer, and remembered to check o my NHS site to see what they have put about my tumble on Wednesday. As usual, it kept signing me out every two minutes if I didn’t enter anything. Well, I can’t remember the three links it takes to get into it, or what it is called. Humph! After getting signed out twice and having to get an email with the login number each time. I thought, I’ll try one again, one last time. No, can’t find anything. Swift visit from Carer Ejaz, Phorpain gelled the right shoulder. Medications given.
I took two snaps of the sun coming over the back left earlier, but forgot to upload them. Amazing that I should forget anything, innit?

I got on the computer with trepidation because I knew how far I was behind, and it would take me all that was left of the day to complete it (Friday’s blog). It did.

Foggy outside, usually a sign this time of year that the sun will come out later on.
I found another piece of glass from the broken jar.

I was having problems reading my own writing again. I must stop rushing and remember to write larger. I just can’t understand why I don’t, or can’t do this. The notes start all clear and so easy to read, indeed distinct. But as the day goes on, Whoopsiedangleploppery, Fred’s Frustrations, computer problems, health problems, Memory-Mangling-Malcom, Arthur Itis, Fractured Knee Frank, Shuddering-Shoulder-Shirley, Shaking Shaun, Anne Gyna, Struggling as my eyesight fades and fogs later on the day, Concentration-Crippler-Crippen, Backpain Brenda, Seizure-Sandra, Toothache-Tiffany, Ingrowing-Toenail-Tony, Earache Erasmus, Stuttering Stephany, WordPress headaches, Excel bother, CorelDraw failings, Glaucoma Gladys, Letters, Texts, Instructions & Emails that I cannot read, Deep Dank Depression Darius, Ménière’s disease, Reflux Roger, Replacement Aorta Valve Victor, Diabetes Doris, High Cholesterol Christine, Hydrocephalus-Hilda, and Catheter-Contraption-Carol. Neurotransmitters Dying, Lymphorrhea Leslie,, Cartilages Chloe & Carole, Receptive Aphasia Phyllis, Peripheral Neuropathy Pete, Premordid-Cognitive- Impairment-Inchie, the brains TBI, or any of the other hassles, in any permutation, arrive daily to Woodthorpe Court Flat 72, with the mysteries of the hobgoblins, spectres, gnomai, phantasms, grotesque succubae, ectoplasms, Whoopsiedangleplops, ailments, extraterrestrials, spirits, Accifauxpas, rent increases, food price hikes, and the Fata Morganas strike again!
Still, you don’t like to complain, do yer?

Late in the day, the sun did get through. When I went into the kitchen to take this shot, I was surprised it had got out. Very bright, it blinded me while taking this snap for about five minutes. Cataract Katie was most annoyed at me. Heheh

I was pleasantly surprised when my Angel called to see me, Jenny. 🤎 She thought it best not to give me her old mobile phone yet, while I was having so much hassle with so many things at the same time. Very perceptive of her. She knew that the extra tension it would cause me learning a new mobile & how it worked. She is so discerning and pragmatic. And lovely with it.

Caught the sun on her way down, with two oil paintings, like photographs around, I think 2000hrs. So much I cannot read on the notepad, hope I’ve not missed of anything important on this blog.
I must try to avoid the usual inane waffle. It’s too late now. Haha!

Tonights Meal
Baked beans. flavoured with Gung Ho sauce, water chestnuts, cocktail sausages, and Keiklbasa chicken sausages. With some Milk Roll soft bread for dunking in the juices.
A Rating of 8.3/10

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Inchie: Fri 13 Mar 2026. ‘Orrible Day

14/03/202618/03/2026 / Inchie / 7 Comments

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Inchies True Tales of Woe
For Friday 13th March 2026
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More than a few to tell of in truth,
It was more horseshit than honeydew,
Computer problems, more than a few,
So many, I didn’t know what to do,
Lost all the work that I’d struggled to do,
I genuinely thought a stroke was due…
Panic alarm – sent a paramedic crew,
To the hospital? I didn’t want, no no, no…
I had to prevent this somehow,
Said I was feeling better, very slow,
Tried to show I had some go, gungho…
Readings taken, concern, a verbal shiatsu,
A long Q&A session & then powwow,
Medical history, they did review.
No hospital – my wish they did imbue,
I apologised for causing their perdue,
I ended up in the hospital again, and I didn’t want to,
They’d send me to a home, I foreknew!
So they let me stay in my flat, chateau,
Filled their online NHS surview,
Left a paper on what I should do,
The next day, I penned this little clerihew.
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0645hrs: Sensed out the ailments to be wary of as I lay in bed. I didn’t feel as hazy as I normally am, brainwise. But I knew my history of feeling smug always turns to a disaster of some kind, so I avoided going into a Smug-Mode. It didn’t help; the day turned out to be my worst one of the week! Grangnangles & Globspit!

I got the nocturnal Catheter pouch removed from the day bag. Went through the balance-checking routine, decided it was safe enough to cautiously hobble to the kitchenette to check on the taps, doors, and electrics, just in case I’d done it again and left doors open, the cooker on, or a tap running. All seemed clear. So, I took a snap of the view and got the kettle on. The snap I took later escaped into the ether from the camera’s SD card. I went onto the balcony to take a shot of the flats’ end car park. I got the idea that we may have had a drop of rain overnight. I might be wrong. Hehe! Well, what a change. I missed the agony that Constipation Konrad would have given me, but of course, it was a pleasure to miss it. But I’m glad I got extra toilet rolls in, because of Trotsky Terence’s evacuations.

I made a strong brew of Glengettie tea as Carer Ejaz arrived. Medications. Socks taken off, foamed and creamed the toes and ankle. Fresh socks back on. Phorpain gelled the back and the right Shoulder.
Made a list of calls needing to be made on Monday. Doctors, ask for a stronger pain gel and Catheter supplies. The lady from the falls team will confirm the date. If I remember, I’ll ask him to do that one tomorrow.

Then it started! The computer froze up, leaving me with no option but to unplug it and see what happens when I reboot.
A most disconcerting action to have to take.
I’d had to leave it there to empty my overfull Catheter bag. Then empty, wash & refresh the jug.
When I returned, it was back online, but not letting me type anything in Google, Excel, Word, or CorelDraw actions that required text input.
Meaning I could not access any help tips online.
So, boldly, I was able to close it down with the mousse. I decided to wait half an hour or so before rebooting the computer.
During which the food delivery arrived. Coffee for Nurses and Jenny & Frank.
Cordial to flavour the spring water. Soft Milk- Roll sliced bread, cheese spread, Spring water, and soda water. And a variety of lemon desserts. I also got some seaweed.
I got it stored away and went back to the computer. I can’t deny it, with a little dread. Restarted it, and was able to type again. So, I knew the cause could not have been via the keyboard, but I had no idea if I’d caught a wrong combination of keys, as shaking often comes on when I’m typing. Or serving up a meal, or handling anything and dropping it, or cannot let go of it, shaving, cleaning my few remaining teeth, or at any time.
When it worked again, I refused to feel a Smug-Mode. The first thing I did was research my problem on Google. Then copy the pages and save them for if (when) it happens again.
It was as if I knew what would happen around a couple of hours later, after I’d restarted and after much work had been done.
As clear as mud to me.

As expected, I did the same thing, so I consulted the saved advice as above. Another age lost trying to work out what I could gain from the advice given. Not a lot. No choice but to turn it all off and try again. So, I did.
And it worked again… but after a few minutes…
Now I was baffled again as to what to do.
And getting very annoyed and depressed, the self-loathing over my incompetence flowed.
Years ago, I wouldn’t have blinked an eye and sorted it – well, that’s what I thought, which made my mood deteriorate further, and my temper boil.
I think this overwroughtness caused what then happened later.
I turned everything off and back on, and it seemed to be working again. But I wasn’t…
I had what nowadays seemed a natural seizure, but I don’t think it was. As I came out-of-it, the acidity upflux was not there – replaced by a super lack of balance and dizzier than I have ever been.
Well, apart from when I had the stroke. Which made me think, in all honesty, that I was having another stroke. That is why I pressed the Alert Button.
I was finding it very hard to mouth words. I could make noises, but words were at random. Difficult for the lady in the control room. Who stayed with me on the line until the paramedics arrived. Thank You!
I have no memory of the first few minutes. As I came out of whatever had gripped me, I saw two paramedics and had a heart thingy on my arm.
Q&A’s, checks and I was talking, but stutteringly and repeatedly, I think. My cogniscence improved so quickly that I kept apologising for pressing the alarm, and wasting their time… I think. I was certainly thinking I ought to.

I have little remembrance of Carer Ejaz’s visit at all.
I think someone called on the phone, but I don’t know who, if anyone did, or what it was about. Yet I’m sure I was feeling a lot better, and getting my soup meal made when Ejaz came. I think.
It was not such a good effort. But it was tasty enough; the problem was that I put in the vegetarian bacon bits as Ejaz arrived. So by the time I got the meal in the oven, ten minutes was enough to make the ‘bacon bits’ go all soggy. I ate it, though.

As recommended by Ejaz, I deserted the computer and got my head down early. Taking this snap of the night as I washed the pots. The bed seemed so welcoming and comfortable tonight. Zzz!
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Inchie: Thursday 12th March 2026

13/03/2026 / Inchie / 9 Comments

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I stirred at 0300hrs, passed a trumpet-worth blast of wind that hurt the haemorrhoids, and fell back into a deep sleep. Returning to semi-life again at 0645hrs. I lay there, awaiting the brain’s activation. It obligingly did so within around ten minutes. I was sorry it did. For fears and worries about what the day would bring, greedily controlled my immediate thoughts on the prospects that theoretically lay ahead for me.
Would the nurse arrive to check the hand? (No)
Would things work out right with the double laundry we have to get done? (No – but help from Jenny, my Angel🤎, made it work), this time.
Must try to make my memory notes bigger. Failed!
Ask Ejaz to send an order for Catheter equipment using the Vyne email. Forgot to!
It was a Thursday with a difference because we had to do Wednesday’s laundry, cleaning, etc., as no Carer arrived yesterday. No information received as to why. Not that it mattered, really.
Onwards: Many things will be missed, and some out of chronological order. It was a confusing and hectic day. I didn’t get around to starting this blog until Friday morning. Meaning my Friday blog is already way behind before Friday arrived. Deep Depressing Darius ruled the day. High-Mood-Horis was cheering me up a smidgeon now and then, such as when Jenny saved situations with her usual polite aplomb. And the tumble I took was eventually eased when Ejaz returned to get me up.
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I removed the nocturnal Catheter pouch and made my way speedily, well hobbling steadily, to the wet room to utilise the Porcelain Throne before the enthusiastic buildup in the innards saw daylight.
The soggy, yet lumpy H-bomb shapes that were evacuated consisted of four bombs, each one breaking up on contact with the water. I don’t suppose you needed to know that. But with me having a regular, almost daily, different class of evacuation material, it is a curiosity to me. The Doctor is interested in this. She’s not concerned about my Peripheral Neuropathy, Pete, Sandra’s Seizures, Fractured-Knee-Frank, Lymphorrea- Leslie, Shuddering-Shoulder-Shirley, Back-Pain-Brenda, Cararact-Katie, Mechanical-Aorta-Alfred, Little-Inchys- Fungal Lesion, Harolds-Haemorrhoids-Bleeding, Memory-Mangling-Malcolm, Diabetes-David, Cartilage- Chloe, Colin-Cramps, Glaucoma-Gladys, or about Ingrowing toenail Unguis-Incarnate-Iris.

I took some kitchenette window snaps. The first one to the right, where tha rising sunshine from the back of the flats had not reached yet.
Then a photo to the left.
Or was that the other way around? Either way, they show a contrast of the views on offer.
Friday, doing this blog
Suddenly, I could not write anything on this blog. Then I got the Task Manager thingy come up. I couldn’t even write in Google to ask it for help. Panic-Mode was on the way. I knew this as my lips twitched when about to go into a seizure or panic. So the Carer said.
I turned everything off, losing work in Excel, CorelDraw and WordPress. Spirits dwindled. Especially as I thought I was doing alright.
Back to the usual cross-my-fingers, turn off the computer, give it ten minutes, and reboot.
Gotten Himmel, working again. Phew!
I immediately went on Google to search for help on this problem, copied them into CorelDraw and saved them for the next time this problem arises, in case one of them does not work.
You can tell with my mental problems, I pray I’ll never need to try these. Some look easy, but most of them leave a brain haze & fog in an instant.

Overjoyed, I opened the programs and started catching up by redoing the work I hadn’t been able to save.

Half an hour later, it started again, no writing, no saving work I nearly got caught up on… Shit!
I instinctively closed it down again, too nervous to try any of the advice from confusing Google. Not their fault, it’s me who panics with guidelines and instructions. When I do not know the meanings of the terms. This time, I had a job, or did something wrong, cause choosing ‘Power’ got an unfathomable load of, I think, code waffle. Panic increased; had I ruined everything? Had I pressed the wrong key option?
Had I had to unplug it to turn it off, surely this would have harmed the computer? Not as much as the computer has harmed me. Hehehe!
Why did I write that laugh?
Wunderbar! It came back on,
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Now I have to miss off loads of things, ’cause I’m sure it’s going to do it again. This blog is my lifeline to the herd of my followers. Both of them!
It gives me freedom of a sort.

Morning car park shot

More space in the balcony now that Jenny
has made use of the wheelchair.

Work was lost when the computer went down. Sob!

Ejaz came to do the belated Laundry & cleaning visit.
Jenny helped by asking us to ring her when the laundry went in, and saying she would move it into the dryer and gather it. Ejaz can collect it, or she will bring it up to the flat for me. Bless her, she’s so kind to me.
I thought that when Ejaz went down, I’d crack on with the computer. I was concentrating on this, and realised that Ejaz was not here. He was back from putting the laundry, and had been mopping the kitchen floor. I thought he was in the wetroom, and went to check…

I’ve no idea how or why, one minute I was between the bed and the non-working recliner on my way to the door… then found myself face down on the floor. I’m certain I felt hitting the bed, then the chair, then the floor. So it was not a seizure; otherwise, I would not have remembered it. I could not manoeuvre myself out to get to the recliner to drag myself up. I felt something in my pocket as I fumbled about trying to move; it was my mobile. So I rang Ejaz, but there was no answer.
Then rang Jenny, no answer. But didn’t worry cause wherever Ejaz was, he’d be back soon. And he was.
He hauled me up on my feet, which was no mean feat.
Injuries? Very slight. I’d cracked the scab on the hand injury and scratched the leathery lymphorrhea skin on the right leg. I think the ideal place to take a tumble was between the bed and the chair!

Biscoff bickies, hard, but I can manage them when they have been dunked in a mug of strong Glengettie or Cooperative 99 tea. Soft mini-roll cakes, Polish chicken sausages. Cheesey nibbles, Ketchup, & potato soup. Mouthwash, hot dogs, grapefruit drink, seaweed crispies, no-butter butter, and soft goats cheese.