November 2021: Local News Snippets

Comments from the Nottingham Proletariats, Photographs, bad grammar and punctuation, and other sundry rubbish!

Starting with the serious stuff. I’ve placed a picture, with the report of the Doctor who is responsible for so many deaths. Hopefully, if anyone is going in for surgery, and recognize the Doctor, can refuse to be treated by him.

Mr X, Nottingham resident (84), suggested that the return of hanging would be more of a deterrent.

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Mr X, Nottingham resident (84), quoted; Most likely a drugs gang killing. See the watch the youth has on? And the tattoos, are they a gang thing or what? Bring back hanging, and they won’t do it again, now will they?

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Mrs Y (82), a sweet-natured local resident, is all for starting a Nottingham Mafia, to control the crime waves that the non-existent police force can’t cope with. Adding; It’s the judges and the legal system I blame as much as the crude scum we’ve let into the country. A well-armed Nottingham Mafia can keep an eye on the rare odd police officer when they see them, and noble the offenders on the spot. Scumbags!

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Wilberforce Hutherswaite (73), a local resident, commented on the rising prices that are getting out of hand. It’s the bloody Tories again! They are the buggers that own or have shares in the rob-dogging, European owned greedy companies, purrin’ the prices up agen! It’s the Chinese who started off the Coronavirus, but yer cun rest assured that the other crooked politicians and shareholders have played a part in it… all designed to put prices and profit up! I towed ’em thurrit’d happen! Farsounds of illegals to feed too!

Still, yer doesn’t like to complain does yer. ‘ave yer gorrany weed on yer to spare, Inchcock?

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Wilhelmina Thunderthighs (77), a retired RMN nurse from Huddersfield originally, a Nottingham Resident since she got out of prison in 1975, offered her views on the Coronavirus situation, with figures spiking again:  “I blame the anti-masker shitheads. Likely unemployed benefit-claiming morons. You know, those with several different fathered ankle-snappers, and on their fifth live-in partner! One living rent-free in Sherwood, I read it in the Evening Post, so it has to be true… claiming child benefit of £690 a week, get their electricity and gas paid for. They’ve just had their Universal Credit reduced to £650 a week, so they will not be happy… But will they wear a facemask? No! Erm… what was the question?

The new Coronavirus variant found in Nottingham is of concern.

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Comment from Ecclisiastclese Edwards (67). That’s the fourth fire this year on the industrial park in Lenton. Obviously, brought Abarght by the illegal immigrants they employ. I don’t blame the incomers, who can blame ’em for gerrin’ away from Lithuania, Poland etc., not me! If any other country would house and feed me if I got away, I’d take it too! Them who are escaping wars who I feel sorry for. Cause, there are bound to be some murderers, paedophiles and terrorists among ’em, that’s to be expected. I reckon some arsonists have sneaked and got underpaid jobs ‘ere?

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Comment from Blanche Bloomerworthy (78), an ex Prison Warden, living in Sherwood, Nottingham. I’ve been watching this happen every day for months. It dawned on this morning, can you eat these ducks? They could be a solution to the food shortages?

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Not a made-up name! All true!

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Unfortunately, Inchcock got his walker-guide wheels stuck in the snow this morning. Over he went, landing in a blubbery mass of flesh onto the wet grass and gravel. He’d like to thank the youth passing by for not stopping to help, and calling  Inchy a f___cking old idiot, as he carried on his way on his Escooter!

I’m losing faith in humanity!

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Part of the ‘Inchcock’s Local News Series’

1950-60s Tin Bath Uses – In Ode

A short odeing session. My memories of the unexpected usages of the ‘Tin Bath’ that resided most of the time, in the soot-covered viaduct wall out in the back yard of Brookfield Place, Nottingham.

Traditional Usage

The tin bath hung on the viaduct wall for ages; why?
Used for bathing once a week, oh, my…
Unless Dad was working that Saturday, this I can ratify
It was occasionally used for other purposes, I’ll identify…

Coal Moving?

Twice a year, we’d get a ton of coal delivered for free,
Mostly slack, very few actual lumps in it, you see,
Someone had to sort and sift through it; that would be me!
So, I was allowed to get black and dirty, temporarily…
The coal was tipped into the bath on delivery…
The bath got all bent out of shape, a pity…
I’d start with the sieving, somewhat tetchily!
Move any lumps into the coal house, repeatedly,
But it was, of course, a necessity,
It took me hours, Dad would pay me 3d, haughtily!

♥ Auntie Kerry… the fondler ♥

Cleaning the bath hurt terribly…
Dust in the eyes, throat made me feel sickly,
The thought of bathing next was lovely,
As long as it was conducted, by my Auntie Kerry!
I was too young to know of things as nookie!

The Hartleys Arrive – Bloodbath!

It really surprised me, she bought a live turkey,
She fed it up and had to kill it, you see…
She chopped off its head, it still ran around running free…
Such a culture shock for me…
The yard was covered, slimy innards, and very bloody!

Tin Bath To The Rescue!

Dad came up with a solution for next years bloodbath,
They could use our galvanized tin bath…
To contain the turkey, thus less backyard backsplash?
As I recall, they used the leftovers to make goulash?

Gawd, I miss these neighbours!

I thought I’d miss seeing the first manned spaceflight,
Yuri Gagarin, I heard it on the radio, in the papers, alright…
Leslie called; Mrs Hartley sent me a remarkable invite…
Watch it on our TV; they even gave me sarnie, of Marmite!

Part Of Inchcock’s Memories In Ode Series.

Tips & Advice – Part 5¾ – In Bad Ode

Related In Chronically Bad Ode

Today’s Tips & Advice topics for Whippersnappers are drawn from the long list of Whoopsiedangleplops and Accifauxpas suffered by Inchcock over the many depressing, failed years. In the hopes that the Whippersnappers will be better prepared for the coming of old age, senility, loneliness and thus: Thus at least giving them a chance to get things right. They can welcome death when it arrives and will make their passing a sweeter thing, as they gladly escape the moralless, debauched, cruel world. My pleasure!

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When I learned what Mother said when I was born,
To the midwife, was ‘I don’t want it, throw it in the Trent’!
I showed no bitterness, no scorn…
Although it was a bit of a rent…
I just carried on, not forlorn?
Although young, you must try to find out what she meant!

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The Mysterious Auntie Kerry

When a previously unheard off Auntie Kerry,
She was attentive, a massager and maternalistic,
Came to bath me, she smelt of sherry,
She spoke proper English, seemed aristocratic,
She was gentle with me, bar the occasional battery…
Bath time with her was a pleasure, never dramatic,
But this always left me contented and merry…
I think when she’d leave, I’d turned lovesick?
Aunt Kelly was touchy-touchy and charismatic,
I was heartbroken when she stopped coming, oh, very!

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Never approach a horse from behind,
When it’s wearing blinkers…
Cause you may well find…
You could get a kick in the knackers!

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Please wear a face mask still,
When out and about in buses and shops,
Help stop others from getting ill,
It would be appreciated if you will!

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Or not?

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For the sake of clarity, rhyming will be suspended for this, most important of Advice & Tips, on the aged and disabled old codgers dangers and problems with the Porcelain Throne activities; That the Whippersnappers may not yet be aware of, that are on their way.

Getting To The Throne On Time:

Important: Any early warning signs of evacuations being needed mustn’t be ignored. Never, and I mean Never, delay your journey to the toilet!
Fair enough, I do seem to get wildly varying modes of evacuations – rock-solid half-hour minimum ones and squirty, almost liquid efforts. Be prepared for either!
The days of “I’ll just finish this then get off to the bog” will end on your first Accifauxpas en route! Believe me, this will come!

Consistently distribute your walking sticks – I have one in the hallway near the flat door, the kitchen, front room, and main room. This will be priceless when needed – and they will be! I also have picker-uppers in the kitchen, main room and wet room.

Also, the availability of disinfectants is advised; I have Dettol and Zoflora Lemon in all three rooms, along with fresh air spray. Because you will never know when an escapage of blood, poo-poo or urine will occur. These events will cause self-embarrassment, frustration and cost you so much pain and time to clean up and medicate; each time, you will get little else done that day! So, another essentiality is a good supply of protection pants at all times.

Below is my current stock of PPs in the wet room. The Tena ones are a little bulky and are bound to show through the trousers when I go out without a long jumper on. Embarrassment Scale ‘A’.

However, I have found some PPs named Depend, bought them from Amazon. They are a lot cheaper than the Tena. At first, I was not impressed; they are less bulky, thinner than the expensive ones. I believed that they would not cope with a decent leakage. I thought that Blood from Little Inchies fungal lesion, a urine blast, or heaven forbid, a solid evacuation from the rear, would not be containable. Good news. Well, not that I had the urine and bleeding leak from Little Inchie in itself, but how well the Dependable pants coped with it all. I was well-pleased with ’em!

Just another warning about crap products in the Protection Pants department; Avoid Morrisons Comfort Pants at all costs! Firstly they are not comfortable in the slightest! And are not fit for purpose. I had a minor leakage of blood from the fungal lesion a month ago, when I was wearing a pair of these pants, ended up with blood on my legs and knees, and had to scrap the trousers!

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A Final Tip!

When in hospital after having a stroke (which the NHS assures us will happen to 3.3 out of every 5 people in the UK), and you get a leg ulcer to come up on your ankle – don’t fret!

Mine is already beginning to ease and after only three years.

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Part of the Inchcock Make ‘Em Laugh, – In Ode Series

Ode: Life used to be…

Warning: Bubonic plague may seem like a part of the past, but it still exists today in the world and in rural areas of the U.S. and in Asia. The best way to prevent getting plague is to avoid fleas on rodents such as rats, mice, and squirrels.

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ODE: Life used to be…

Full of the dying from the Black Death, Bubonic!
Cause in those days people were thick but stoic,
This Ode will not be in sequence, or chronologic,
Cause I’ve got arithmophobia, to me, they’re acrostic,
I imagine in times prehistoric,
Cave dwellers were less prone to be phobic?

The caveman club was used automatic,
To fight with others, they say… and things domestic…


When a bloke wanted him and her to get at it?
Nowadays, it’s a counsellor? It’s not so dramatic!

In my young days, romance for me was minimalistic,
As were and still are, my tools used only periodic,
I think this Ode is getting confused, semantic?
Cause I think I’m becoming a smidgen autistic?

You know, I used to be somewhat nomadic,
Walking, then on my bike, a Raleigh classic,
Then the motorbikes, I was very enthusiastic,
Bought a three-wheeler – a Robin made of plastic!
Several four-wheelers, then a 4×4, fantastic!
Now no more, I’ve moved on up to a walkingstick,
Heart replacement, Cancers, Stroke, I’ve been sick!

A new walker guide, I’ve named it Dominic!
Deaf-as-a-post, I can’t hear it, the traffic!

Nowadays, so many folk Islamophobic some Israelophilic,
A reading of 168 this morning for the systolic,
A low reading of 54 for the diastolic?
No longer fit enough to be peripatetic,
In fact, life can at times feel rather pathetic!.

Seeing old photos of me can be ironic,
Even if I felt at the time supersonic!
The losses can make one feel threnetic,
This is Susan, she was warm and athletic!

Things so changed, using so much antiseptic,
My hair has gone, the mind too, and I’m feeling asthmatic,
Shaking all over, deaf, diagnosed a diabetic!
There’s little left of my body that’s authentic!
The nurses who call are sweet and charismatic!.

The carers visit, although it’s not automatic…
A few of them are disinterested and apathetic,
Most of them are kind, one even erotic!.
At times have a natter, albeit we can act idiotic!

Next week, I’m going for treatment, electrotherapeutics,
Not sure what it means, but it sounds futuristic,
It worryingly also sounds sadomasochistic,
For my Peripheral Neuropathy, I like the therapeutic,
I hope I get a mug of tea and a biscuit?

I’m a bit concerned about this! Hahaha!

Part of the Inchcock Make ‘Em Laugh-In Rhyme Series

Inchcock’s Little Odes

A selection of mini-odes, created while Inchcock awaited the arrival of the Meridian Carer that did not arrive to issue him with his medications. Regrettably not up to his usual standard of humour content, due to the agony he as in, with Duodenal Donald complaining about not getting his morning dose of Omeprazole capsules; by way of giving the old man severe stabbing pains!

That’s five times in two months Meridian have let him down; They tell him this is to be expected, and Meridian are better than many Carer Companies. The gullible old sausage!

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Reverend Salmon once told me I was adiaphoristic,
But, not wanting to sound autistic,
Nor admit to my being ungrammatic,
I said I was sorry for being troglodytic,
And shot off home, feeling pretty thick…

I looked up adiaphoristic, not in the dictionary it would seem,
So off to the library, search books that were encyclodepian,
No computers then, not a laptop or touch screen,
I found what the meaning twas, summat to with the bible book,
It baffled me; I couldn’t understand the explanation, Tsk!
I had to look up answers in another book…
I’d have been at the time about thirteen,
Back to the Chapel, a visiting Dean,
More problems unforeseen…

I mistook him for Reverend Salmon, it would seem,
I said to him, there is no such word as adiaphoristic…
With teeth that did gleam, he called me a silly Virgoian,
And clouted me around the head, that wasn’t very Christian!

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I bought it, taxed and insured it, and took it for a spin,
Bodywork? I could not detect a single dent,
Mechanically, engine-wise, a deep throaty, din,
Summat did spoil my enjoyment…
The rust was already settling in!
It gave me a certain feeling of empowerment!
It easily fitted Grizelda and me in…
The cheque bounced for my downpayment…
I was soon back to walking the pavement!

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SISTER JANE

I thought I’d just do a Sister Jane Ode
Now she, too, is getting old…
But she doesn’t look it! ♥

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Inchcock’s Tips & Advice – Part 3

Ordering Food From Sainsbury’s

A risky business if you forget to tick the No-Substitute button on each item ordered. Their best foul-up was substituting a Milk Roll loaf of bread with pikelets. Their worst, and mostly unrelated to the thing ordered, was when I ordered a bottle of disinfectant, and they issued me with a pot of brown shoe polish! The most hilariously opposite was when I ordered Marmite Biscuits, and they sent a box of iced lollies? But with supposedly suitable substitutes from Sainsbury’s record, it’s better to have nothing than something you cannot use or do not like or want!

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Questionnaires Letters Official Bumph!

Ah, there will be much of this. All of differing nature, from accusative, mock-caring related, but mainly of a financial nature. Then the circulars, cunningly disguised to look like officialdom paperwork to confuse and con. Plus, of course, notifications of increases in rent, carers fees, reduction in bank interest, medical appointment, debt chasers, and the odd birthday card.

Nottingham City Council Fairer Charging Team, Nottingham Revenues and Benefits Team. Financial Assessment for Social Care Services

Since Coronavirus, thus anticipated to continue forever, are the telephone interviews and questionnaires. Last week, I got a call telling me they would ring me later in the week to fill in a detailed form from the… I love the length of this title… The Nottingham City Council Fairer Charging Team, Nottingham Revenues and Benefits Team. Financial Assessment for Social Care Services. The chap had a clear voice on the phone, so I caught most of what he said. He would ring on Wednesday at a specific time, and we might be on the phone for a while as the questionnaire was several A4 pages long.

Come Wednesday, a different man rang as promised. We started the Q & A’s. Talk about detailed: we were on the phone for over two and a half hours! Mind you, I did have to stop twice, for a wee-wee. (You’ll find this a problem in your dotage!)  Bank details taken? All my ailments were requested, with the effects they cause me, in particular. There are so many, I must have missed some off. I wondered at one time if I should have mentioned the pustules and boils on my bum, but I didn’t bother.

After so long using the phone, Colin Cramps came on in the left hand and fingers. I had to swap to use the right hand, which has Peripheral Neuropathy and is affected by the Stroke. This gave me more pain and hassle, I dropped the phone and got the shakes, and the right knee got a sudden jerk as Peripheral Pete started jerking and jumping, which I thought had broken my patella! All the time, considering what the interviewer must be thinking is going on! I had to stop again. to take a painkiller.

Finally, all done, I was a physical and mental wreck!

Something you whippersnappers might keep in mind for your future mind’s delving into senility. Not an easy thought, I know.

I’ve not heard any reply yet.

DWP Department of Work and Pensions, Disability and Carers Services Charging Team

  • We may write to your doctor or someone else who can tell us how your disability arrests you.
  • We may arrange for a doctor to examine you
  • We may write to you asking for more information
  • We may arrange for someone from your local Social Security office to come and investigate you.

To me, this blast out a message: You fiddling lying old git! No chance! You can whistle for any financial help from us.

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Waking Up!

Firstly, according to how the Whoopsiedangleplops, Accifauxpas and Hassle-Stakes are going at the time, you will either be glad you have woken up again or wish you hadn’t!

Above is an indication of how you will feel as you slowly grasp, work out, or guess at what day and the time it is. The split in your reaction will be about 60/40 in favour of depression!

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Medicationalistalisationings

It seems that Vascula Dementia Doris (Who will undoubtedly visit many current Whippersnappers in their old age) had been causing me to get the taking of the medication all wrong. And I’d got into a bit of a mess with it. The Social Services supplied me with Carers, AM and PM, to sort and control my medicines. This has not been the success that I’d hoped it would be… Humph!

I’ve been having the carers call for about two months now. Last week was the fifth time that no one arrived. Not so bad during the week, cause I can get help to call them, and someone in charge will be on site. Which I’ve done four times now.

On one occasion, on a Saturday with no one in the Winwood Court Meridian office, I rang the number and got a central control room, wherever that is. The gentleman (I use the term loosely), answering, got annoyed at my not hearing what he said, and I was stuttering a little, which seemed to bother him somewhat. But someone did arrive shortly after and sorted the medications. But why did they not get in touch on any of the occasions to let me know? I was just told that someone failed to turn up?

Rather annoying, and this meant taking the tablets so much later. Which on one occasion was six hours late, by which time I was in severe pain with Duodenal Donald because the Omeprazole had not been taken! Also, every prescription package from the chemist has had a problem with it. Being late, no Codeines sent, the wrong Peptac… on and on it goes. If the charges go up, or when, I shall have to be vehement in my complaints cause nothing has changed.

Be aware of these problems, Whippersnappers!

Self-Administered Subcutaneous Injections

As you young-uns get older, there is a good chance of you having ticker problems. By-pass, Aorta Valve replacement, DVT (Deep Vein Thrombosis etc. Of course, I have been blessed with them all.

Enox3a

In my case, subcutaneous injections are infrequently needed. Only when the INR level gets below 1.0, but it has to be kept in stock just in case, as it could be a lifesaver. Two injections, twice a day. Along with increased Warfarins for a few days, whatever is instructed to me by the Haematology, DVT Clinic at the Queen’s Hospital.

It helps a lot if your chemist supplies hypodermics with needles that are unbent. My chemist is very good at sending them to me (picture above). As well as wrong items on the prescription, missing them off altogether, and failing to deliver them. Who is it?

Carrington Pharmacy, 343-345 Mansfield Road, Carrington, Nottingham NG5 2DA, near the launderette and pub, is near the ignorant staffed Lidl store. Telephone: 0115 960 5453. Be wary!

Subconjunctival haemorrhaging Eyes

These add colour and depth to your good looks!

Perhaps! Hehe!

Part of the Inchcock Advice & Tips Series

More To Follow folks

Inchcocks Monday’s Mental Meanderings

Mr Unfair

With him, you’ll not be able to communicate…
At any time disaster, Accifauxpas, you have to wait…
He’ll hit you anytime or where your life he can decimate!
His murderous, clever skills, I’d like to cremate…
But he’s not real, so he’ll carry on brutally, as usual, mate!

He’ll get at you if you feeling on a high, or unwell,
He ignores it when you scream, beg and yell!
What will he bring you next? You can never tell…
Coronavirus, measles, arthritis? You cannot foretell,
In making you cringe and frightened, he can excel!
If you’re a victim, you can expect the death knell,
It’s better than this painful life in ‘Mr Unfair’s’ hell!
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‘Odds & Sods…’

One moment I’d be thinking of 1966, at Wembley,
Where did I put my book Contraband, by Dennis Wheatley?
Ogle out of the window, a kid’s playing with a frisbee,
Rushing like to be on time to take a wee-wee…
Grumps! A clean-up, Little Inchy leaked rather untimely!
What was important to remember… Ah, today Sainsbury’s!
Carer Richard arrived late, in a rush, but we had some repartee!
Crap on the gogglebox, nothing for me…
I was slightly tempted to watch Old Mother Riley,
Until I was reminded what rubbish it was in 1953!
Mind you, in those days, Inchcock had a coal fire and settee,
He gorrit from Wigfalls, 2/6d a week, and deposit 12/3d,
Ah, the time when Inchie swore at a football referee…
His first time in a Black Maria, after ‘match, he was set free!
He never dreamed of having loadsamoney…
Just as well, life ain’t been all milk and honey,
But he still tries to be witty and funny…
He gets it all wrong, of course, lucks has been his biggest absentee!
Still, he’s stopped smoking and drinking, Yessiree!
Now no one talks to him nowadays, you see!

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Grizelda

Inchcock’s had to cope with many a grievance,
Well, injustices, wrongdoings, and many disagreements,
He learnt boxing so as to boost his confidence,
100% record, he lost every bout, but kept his effervescence!

He’d try to make people laugh, so’s not to upset them,
But this only caused further thumping and mayhem…
They could be brutal, but not very often,
Then a day came when he was smitten!
Grizelda a German gal, big solid; but with Inchie, a kitten…
6ft – 4in, with biceps like tungsten!
Inchcock’s passions she did enliven…
He was so glad he enlightened…
Never again, was Inchcock frightened!

Part Of The Inchcock Make Them Laugh, In Ode Series

Inchcock’s Sunday – In Ode

Mud Gorning

Today’s Intention

To make the bestest ever chilli bean con-carne for Josie!

I awoke, full of youthful spring, on a high!
Jumped out of the recliner, nice and spry,
I moved so quickly, my body sinewy…
Then I wondered, why? Why why?
It was cause I was dreaming…
So that was a lie!

Woke up proper, and the feet were aglow,
Red they were, great; I sang a divertimento…
No pains or pot-marks on foot or toe…
No bloating at all, although…
I’ll not get excited; I’ll see how it does go!.

The moon still just glowing, up in the sky,
I tried to take a good photo, I did try…
But they didn’t come put well, Sigh!
I was not disappointed enough to cry!

Washed and got on the computer to work,
Got to start this blog; I will not shirk…
Even if I get it wrong, and feel a burke!
But it took me seven hours to do, what a twerk!.

Can you see no lousy parking in the end car park?
First time for over a week now,
Spying on neighbours… innit a lark?
But I enjoy doing it somehow!

Started to prep Josies’ meal, with assiduousness,
How it will come out, tinged with capriciousness,
My determination was keen, even veracious!
I pressed on, for once not losing my focus,
Took my time conscientiously, no rush…
Sister Jane rang me, thus the distractedness,
But lovely to chinwag, even with partial deafness,
Tasted the progressing food with curiousness…
Oh, to my tastebuds, a lovely flavour did gush!.

Gave it some tweaks…
Beef, beans, Tomatoes, peppers, and leeks,
Best I’ve made for weeks…
Added some sliced steaks…
And, no cuts on the knife, for heavens sakes!
Saying that, as one of my renowned mistakes!.

Stabbed missen with the skewer, what a clot!
But it didn’t bleed a lot,
Then burnt my finger, the pan was hot!
Then dropped a shallot…
Also forgot to put in the carrot!
Oh, that was three things on the trot!
Still, I dun well don’t yer think…What?

All ready to dish up anytime now, success!
Oh, I hope it shows taste and deliciousness,
I got it served on the tray with daintiness…
Nothing too much bother for Josie’s,
Determination today was dauntless!

My search for perfection was ceaseless!.
Got it delivered, without any clumsiness,
She liked the look of the food, and thus…
Had a little chat, and Josie took in in a rush!.

I was contented with my actions taken thus,
Onto the computer, and I got an afflatus…
I’ll do the blog before cooking my potatoes,
But there came a sudden hiatus!
Rushed to the Throne, but twas not calamitous,

Twas a long, challenging evacuation, somewhat circuitous,
The crossword book nearby, that was fortuitous,
Pain, messy, the Germoloid was medicamentous,
All done, left feeling I’d done summat momentous…
And found another bill from the dentist had been sent to us!

Bungleackers!

Just took a tumble going to start my meal prepping.

I got cooking this wrong, no idea why!
I forgot the mushroom, chestnut fungi,
It looked fine. I used the usual formulae,
The meat tasted awfully dry,
Tasteless spuds, my culinary skills died?
Thank heavens Josies tasted good; that, I can verify!

ArrivuaAriverderc... Arf Weider… Cheers!

Part of the Nottingham Lads True Tales Of True Woe Series

The Stroke Ward then Care Home

First, I’d like to explain that as bad as I thought my Stroke was at the time, after being taken to the Queens Medical Centre, diagnosed with having had an Embolic stroke, I thought I’d been lucky. Then I was transferred to the Newell Stroke Ward at the Nottingham City Hospital; I soon realised it was not bad at all!

The event took place while I was in the land of nod. I woke to find myself all disoriented, dizzy, and confused. I was sprawled half-in, half-out of the £300, second-hand, c1968, eyesorely-horrendously grungy coloured, haemorrhoid-testing, unfit-for-use, recliner. Unable to sit up at all, I was lolling to my right. Actually, I thought I might be dreaming at the time and sort of waiting for the fog to clear – of course, it didn’t. The most embarrassing thing in my life (Bar one, but I’ll not mention that!)…

Mass Bodily Fluids Flood – The deluge!
Miss this first section if you are queasy!

(A lifesaver, thanks to Nottingham City Homes!)  And the deluge came! Trying to work out what was happening and pondered on whether to press the Medical Alarm Wristlet button…

Every part of my body that could leak leaked! This was without any warning and so rapid, even the tears that eructed out and I think missed the face cheeks it was so violent. The nose ran, sweat poured from all over, I dribbled from the mouth – but the worst two of all – the bowel evacuation almost shot out, and the wee-weeing too! (at The QMC later, the Doctor said that my ear wax turned to liquid?)

Even pressing the alert button was hard work; I was swaying about and fell out of the chair onto the floor as I got to the control and pushed it. Then found out I could not talk to the controller who answered the alarm!

QMC – Then City Hospital Stroke Ward

Yet I was aware of the mess I was in and ashamed! But I was talking again, but so aware of how I must have looked and smelt! A blank spell from then on until I was being pushed into the scan room at the Queens Medical Centre.

Memory went until I was in an ambulance on the way to the City Hospital stroke ward, The Newell Ward. They kept taking me for e-rays and scans for the day, but I can now recall little of the processes.

Sister Jane and Pete turned up later. Having been to the flat and cleaned up the mess I had made – Bless Them!  So many of the patients were in a much worse condition than I was, which made me realise how lucky I had been. Walking again needed some therapy, and since then, I have started stuttering. With Peripheral Neuropathy diagnoses two weeks earlier, walking ever since is a challenge nowadays. But it could have been so much worse!

One morning, a new patient arrived. He looked like the spitting image of Tyson Fury. They had to move some beds to make room for him, which he was wheeled in on.

Then The Wailing Nights Began!

For about ten hours every single night – for fifteen of them, the poor chap would start calling out for his Mummy! No one else got any sleep! But it was not his fault, naturally. The insults being thrown out to him from other patients desperately needing sleep obviously made no difference.

After the first two or three nights, Tyson (I never knew his name, I can’t remember it if I did), who had been placed near the door, opposite the rota board, realised he could see the names of the other patients, and he would go through everyone… ‘Bill, Bill, help me!’ ‘Malcolm, I need help, fetch my Mum, please!’ ‘Dennis, call for my Mum, I beg you!’ And so forth… then start again repeatedly for hours longer!

The insults and lousy language slowly got worse as the frustrations grew in the other occupants. “F’ing shut your F’ing Gob!” and “Oi… shitting nob-rot, shut the F’s up” are two that come to mind, of the many. Although I had sympathy and empathy with Tyson’s plight and had resisted joining in the angry banter… on the last the 15th night, I very nearly did, but I didn’t.

Unfortunately, they gave me Clopidogrel to help prevent any more blood clots. Then found out I had an allergy to them. Hence the ankle ulcer and extra bloated feet and legs.

Move Me To A Nursing Home

I was so relieved when a doctor told me that they were desperate for beds for new stroke victims. Relieved? Ha! Had I known what was to come, I would have refused to go! They would be moving me later in the day into a Nottingham City Homes care home for a couple of months.

The single room, with adjoining WC with a shower, was nice and snug. There were no shortages of residents to come in and have a look around and help themselves to anything they fancied. Amongst the things that went missing were one hearing aid, pens, biscuits and a pair of socks. I later saw a bloke wearing the easily identifiable diabetic bamboo socks. My Get Better Teddy Bear from TFZer Pattie in Canada disappeared, but I found it in the TV room?

The routine went like this:

  • A carer would come in to help me get the ankle strap on each morning. They all got it wrong, nearly crippled me! Hehe! The door would open (no locks), and a mystery voice would yell out, ‘Breakfast in ten!’ Then give me the medications. I missed many breakfasts.
  • Occasionally a cleaner would come in to ‘do’ the toilet and moan if I’d left any shaving foam in the sink or floor.
  • The midday food summoning would be something like “Tea!”, “Food!” or “Nosh” followed by the estimated time I have to be down for. I missed a few meals.
  • Evenings, medications and taking the ankle strap off.

Inchcock with his retrieved Teddy Bear! ♥

I was told not to leave the site at any time. During the nine weeks, I was there, my laundry was only returned to me three times. Sister Jane and Pete kept me supplied with socks and shirts from the flat. They asked me to make a statement for the police when a bloke attacked a woman with a knife.

If nothing else, this experience has made me all the more determined to avoid going into a care home.

In a Repeated Dream

For several weeks after leaving the Car Home, and Jane and Pete returning me to the flats, I had a repeating dream… I would be leaving the hospital… with the Grim Reaper calling me back to the Stroke Ward. I don’t think it got to me badly, but I was glad when they stooped! (Watch it now, the bloody thing will start again!) Haha!

Part of the Inchcock True Tales of Woe & Make E’m Laugh Series!

Chinwag With Alto-Ego Inchie!

Confounding Confusionableitis!

Time for a proper chinwag with Alto-Ego Inchie. Who I consider as much a mental ailment like all the other medical ones. I am determined to free myself of his persistent, nagging interference in my thoughts. His mission it seems to me is to make me feel guilty, inadequate, inconsequential, ineffective, and insignificant.

Which he has in fact already successfully achieved.

Although, possible beyond the understanding of anyone normal mortal, and maybe anyone who does not have a cruel, Alto-Ego, nagging away, analysing, mocking and criticising your every decision, and choice, one makes or decides on.

This natter took place last night as I lay in bed, with the notepad near to hand, and took place in several episodes! Sleep was certainly not an option for me…

Inchcock Opens The Chinwag Session:

Inchcock: I can sense your sneering and contempt Inchie, and I have to say you are a bane!
Inchie: Huh! Do yer fink I like being stuck in your brain!

Inchcock: Then go away, stop giving me mental pain!
Inchie: What the hell do think it’s like in here? In your dithering, feckless, vacillant thought-filled indecisive brain?

Inchcock: That’s it, go on, put me down, mock again…
Inchie: From human contact, you should refrain…

Inchcock: You said that when we last spoke, now again?
Inchie: Oh, a comeback from Inchcock, I’ve heard better insults from solid lepidomelane!

Inchcock: Erm… lepidomelane? Wot’s that then? Explain!
Inchie: When you read fings, facts you should retain!
Inchcock: Did I read about lepidomelane?
Inchie: Yer! In 1963, yer pea brain!
Inchcock: I’ve got Vascular Dementia, mental pain…
Inchie: Oh shurrup! Abarght time yer took yer Novocain?
Inchcock: You’ve changed the topic, confused me, yer know that makes me go brain-lame!
Inchie: Course I do, you pillock, I’ve had enough of this game…
Inchcock: What games that’s then, are you on cocaine?
Inchie: Yer coming owt with the insults tonight Inchcock! Enough! This topic’s getting too urbane…
Alright, I’ll piss off then!

Inchcock almost nodded off, when Inchie Returned!

Inchie: Hey-up, I’m calling back in defiance!
Inchcock: Why? Have no cognisance!
Inchie: Thought I might catch you on the loo, by chance…
Inchcock: You ‘horrible scumball! You no allegiance?
Inchie: Allegiance? Any idea wot that means?
Inchcock: I learnt that when in my teens!
Inchie: Huh! Gonna give me more gibberish?
Inchcock: Well, thanks for your pertinent attendance…
Inchie: Eh? Playing tricks? Do you mean good riddance?
Inchcock: Well, yes, I do, I’ve had enough of your cruel words!
Inchie: Wot, me? You’re the one spouting insulting words…
Inchcock: Am I? I was just making some lemon curds…
Inchie: What out off… Turds?

Inchcock ignored the Alta-Ego – With Difficulty Mind

He mellowed a little, and went deep in thought, until Inchie returned, and was ready to mislead the interloper…

Inchie: Wotsup, dogbreath? Pissed-off again, blockhead?
Inchcock: Oddly I thought that is what would be said…
Inchie: What’s yer game, that was said well mannered?
Inchcock: It’s up to us both, kill this mutual arguing, time to get together, and start apologising… not endangered!
Inchie: What? Am I being outmanoeuvred?
Inchcock: No mate! My wish is for you to get scunnered!
Inchie: You mean like, we get together and schnockered?
Inchcock: That’s it, we can have our relationship bettered!
Inchie: Summat wrong ‘ere… you and me, get stonkered?
Inchcock: Yea… let our animosity be withered!
Inchie: Why? you dare not… your lily-livered!

Inchcock: Hahaha! Such a poetic turn of phrase!
Inchie: Well, I’m not used to giving praise…
Inchcock: Oh, it’s easy, ns so many ways…
Inchie: Worra yer mean?
Inchcock: We could take time out, play the Steinways…
Inchie: Yer…
Inchcock: Go on holiday, as stowaways?
Inchie: Oh…
Inchcock: Have a drink, see where our hands stray…
Inchie: Hang on, are you after me body?
Inchcock: No, you haven’t got one, although you can have some control over mine, anyway ♥,
Inchie: Not ‘aving that… but then I couldn’t… could I?
Inchcock: not sure, but I’d risk it if you will. I’m free on Wednesday?
Inchie: Erm… I’m not used to this, who’s gonna pay?
Inchcock: You pay in enjoyment, we both can on the day?
Inchie: Hey, hey, hey… Could we just stop arguing, and have a laze?
Inchcock: Certainly, and we could have a few hoorays?
Inchie: I feel my emotions coming ablaze…
Inchcock: I could bring some bottles… Chardonnays?
Inchie: Surely it can’t be done? No ways!
Inchcock: You Pratt! You’re only in my mind! Best then if we return to our mental, non-verbal affrays!

 –  –  –  –  –  –  –  –  –  –  –  –  –  –  –  –  –  –  –

Inchcock was arrested and rushed to the Psychiatric Hospital by paramedics, after being caught making rigorous love to his non-existent Alto Ego Inchie, in the balcony of his flat this evening.

The Doctor told the Inchcock Today reporter: “We managed to stop his weeing with excitement, and finally convinced him was not having sex for the first time in his life. He is currently being treated for Psychotic Manic Depression.

Luckily the Doctor on duty had treated Mr Inchcock several times before over the years and had a straight jacket to hand.

Inchcock is expected to be released in a few years, providing he doesn’t kick the bucket earlier! (He’s getting on a bit)

Part of the Inchcock Make ‘Em Laugh Series