Inchie Today Friday 7th August 2026

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Sorry, such a busy day.
Even though British Gas did not arrive again.
Heard nowt from the toenail cutter,
(I’ll be a cripple soon. Humph!)
The kind Social Lady arrived.
Help from Carer Ejas appreciated.
Unfortunately, had a seizure.
She gave me a good Q&A session.
But the seizure left me so confused, I’ll have to ask Ejaz for the details of what happened from when I came out-of-it. Saturday morning, I felt even worse.
Thankfully, recovered about noonish.
So could not do a blog as such.
I put some old blogs on,
Now, to start Saturday’s blog…

I’ll try to get some details from the depths of my warped, infected memory. 

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Inchie Today Thursday 6th August 2026

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An awakening with a difference. In order, I think: I looked at the nocturnal pouch, and it had not leaked overnight. As it had done for the previous three nights. Detached it from the day bag, and caught a glimpse of my ginormous man-breasts and chest. Not a pretty sight. What had happened, I had no foggiest notion of. I’ll take a closer look when I get a wash & shave later on in the day.
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Morning view
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Struggling with my eyesight.
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I dropped some dried milk onto the carpet.
Dropped the hoover,
Caught my arm wound against the edge.
Hoovered the mini-hallway.
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Found the photo of how the new hooked Catheter looked the following morning. The array pad, which I was told not to take off, fell off the following morning.
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Time has gone again, lost. Did a lot on Ejaz’s visit. He got the washing in the laundry room. Helped me wash and medicated all areas in need, got my PPs on for me.
Next Carer to collect the laundry from the dryer. Ejaz wrote on the mobile to remind him.
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Carer arrived, but did not collect the laundry. Asked him to fetch it up. It was squashed in the bag, creasing things, screwing the slippers. I then had to ask him to hang them up for me. Which he did. I’m not in a good place.
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I was soon feeling low again, and had no interest in eating yet. I may not bother. I was making up a list of things to ask and tell the Social Worker, who I hope is calling tomorrow sometime; Sister Jane rang. I should have appreciated this, but I didn’t. I felt terrible; I’ve never felt lower than I do now, in my life. And can’t help it.
The worry of the last gasp with the Social Lady is wearing me down, maybe. The bit of news I’ve gleaned about getting into a home is not encouraging. The bank situation and my bank balance are the lowest they’ve been since 1964. 
I will be forced to cancel the Carers if something isn’t corrected soon. Managing without them will be hard, but it’s the only option. Just when Ejaz and Mirza are beginning to service me again. Both lovely Caring lads.
But I have no option. Unless the Social Lady can find some miraculous help for me. 
It’s 19:17hours as I type this.
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Last Carer, I understand it is not to my Ejaz or Mirza; it is due shortly. I’m not interested in food, but I’ve done some boiled spuds. I’ll eat them for my meal and try to eat them. I’ll see what’s in the cupboard. 
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Back in the morning, Cheers.
I’m back.
Late morning now, a lot to get done and sorted today (Fri).
Social Lady to arrive.
Foot Lady to arrive.
May not get a blog done.
Toothache, arthritis and coccyx bad.
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A bit blotchy?
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Inchie Today Wednesday 5th August 2026

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Inchie is up for adoption as a grandad
Just thought I’d mention it.
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On this day in 1945: The United States dropped the atomic bomb on Hiroshima, Japan.
Humankind has not learnt a lot, have we?
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Good Morning. Good morning? Well, it wasn’t at 06:25hrs when I stirred back into fau-life so reluctantly. I eased the painful sacral region, my coccyx, from the bed; ARRGH! Unbelievable, the nocturnal Catheter, the new ones of a different design, had leaked for the third day on the trot! Partly my own fault, for putting it on without thinking. And some new original ones had been delivered, arrived last night. I could have used them. The self-lambasting started, frustration flowed, bad language, really bad. A flipping good job they can’t hear me in the other flats. (I do hope not) I suffered a fit of pique, I suppose a sort of temper-tantrum. Directed at myself. I’m not proud of it.
I got even more annoyed and stroppy by the time I’d disinfected and put layers of paper towels down repeatedly, and the coccyx, lower back and Dizzy Dennis kicked off with all the bending.  I stubbed my gigantic long-nailed and more than a few times. But I’d calmed down a bit by then… well, just accepted the situation I now find myself in. Good luck is a mystery to me. Getting the short end of the stick, being jinxed, conned, depressed, evil fortune, frustrations, mental & physical limitations,  TBI. As for better luck next time; that never visits nowadays; these are not lessening… the same as my problems, just grow and multiply. But I waffle again. Don’t know why I do it; it never gleans any help. What a
terrible start to the day; well, usual start for me.
Depression is starting an early heyday… again.
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Smashing, Carer Ejaz did the one call. Said he was not doing any more today. Not sure of later on in the week. Humph! Love the lad.
So much for promises.
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Carer Ahmed did the noon call, I think. A nice chap, willing and ready to help.
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The teatime lad was his usual self.
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Carer Mirza did the last call. A short one in which he perused the emails, none needing attention. Then he filled in some more of the Mad House paperwork.
Another treasure, dedicated Carer.
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My one visit to the Porcelain Throne took ages to start the evacuation moving. It was hard work, even after they had started. Four thick nuclear submarine-shaped torpedoes slowly escaped, but the really surprising thing was the colours. The first two, which I thought was all that was coming, were coloured deep red and light brown. About to wipe and clean my bottom, the second two started; they were like concrete and thicker. I could feel the blood trickling from the haemorrhoids, and the next ones were far easier to pass, and were deep red, both with deep yellow turd ends. A different shade and texture every time I use the Throne. Hehehe!
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Wonderful yalking-to-clouds again today.
I took the above two to try and catch what I thought looked like a beast head, maybe a fish. See it?
This snap reminded me of Mr Trump.
I wonder why?
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Evening mug of Glengettie tea,
I need some chiropody,
Will my night Catheter again go leaky?
I hope my night will go dreamlessly,
Will Thursday go exacerbatingly?
I’d love to have an Epiphany…
British Gas: What a crap company,
They promised an engineer would visit me,
Three times this year; verisimility,
Lies, fibs, from the BG Oligarchy,
I’ve fractured anconeus, wrist and knee,
Catheter, obviously I can’t voluntarily pee,
Mechanical aorta, TBI, brain injury…
Constipation & Peripheral Neuropathy.
Dementia, seizures, and poor memory,
Ingrowing toenails, piles, since 2023,
Love cheesy potatoes, beetroot & boleti,
I suffer deafness and indeterminacy,
Confused over life’s insubstantiality,
Intangibility, vagueness, and ethereality,
Gawd, I do miss sexual reciprocity!
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I fell asleep eating it, while watching TV!
I ate all of it, except for the sticky Tiryaki sauce-covered potatoes that had stuck themselves to my body: testicles, legs, stomach, etc. The cushion, the carpet, the chair arm, and I found one had attached itself to my foot. I thought I’d got a blister or carbuncle coming up. Haha!
I cleaned the mess up, between bouts of cursing. Went through agony bending to clean it up, got the dizzies, and at one time, fell on my coccyx; that didn’t help my mood in the slightest. The cursing increased, but I did realise it was now the early hours of the morning, so I kept down the volume of my obscenities and expletives.
I cautiously took my time when doing the washing up and putting away the cleaning materials used.
The lower back, bruised coccyx, my right shoulder and left fractured knee each had a visit from Arthur Itis, and I had to give up getting into the bed, just too painful to find a comfortable position to accommodate the pains.
So, I moved and added cushions and folded towels on the recliner, enough to get into a bearable position, painwise.
Got settled, and confound it; started worrying if I’d turned off the cooker, turned off the taps, or left the fridge door open. I just had to check these things!
Grappling my way up out of the c1966, £300 Oxfam charity shop-bought, wincingly grotty, beige-coloured, crumb-covered from my nocturnal nibblings, itch-making, uncomfortable, positively unhealthy, and dangerous, no longer operational, virus-breeding, easy-to-fall-out-of, catheter-tube-trapping recliner, my coccyx was the main botheration; after all that time getting into a comfortable position, too. The feet and knee joined it as I hobbled into the kitchen; but I was so pleased I’d checked things, I’d cleaned the pots, and put the ceramic bowl back in the slow cooker earlier, but left it switched on!
On the way back to the recliner, Shaking Shoulder Shirley started going. Then, it’s happened many times; my memory of getting back in the recliner was so painful, but I cannot recall doing so? When I did wake up, the acid taste was up in my nose and mouth, so I had more nocturnal seizures, I imagine.
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Inchie Today: Mon/Tuesday 3/4th August 2026

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MONDAY
BLOOD WORK.
From the Warfarin Nurse.
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Dodgy BP on second mock run.
over 180, did not ring 111. 
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ICC Carers phoned in reply to my request to stop the longer visits, due to their ineffectiveness and financial limitations. I was told that Ejaz would be doing all the long calls this week; the days would be changed. No mention of stopping them? No mention of the times they did not come, and I was still charged. At the time, I was just glad that he would be serving me once again.
The rest of the day was mental mayhem.

I was so far behind with the blogs and medical things, and this made it harder to recall. There were some notes on Monday’s page on the pad, but written so poorly I had to guess at some bits, but could only decipher about 15% of it. It is now Tuesday morning, and I’m only just starting to update this blog. I’ll see what I can get from my notepad. Fingers crossed. Self-Note: I must write larger letters!
Argh! I woke up to find that the new nocturnal bag had leaked all over the carpet! Took ages and a lot of back pain to sort it out. ICC phone call (above).
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Carer Ejaz did the long visit. A great help in sorting things as usual. As I stood up to get paperwork, my dizziness came on, and I fell over into the chair, as the knee gave way. Hitting my coccyx and head at the same time. Struggled around in the chair so as not to fall out-of-it. Ejaz was in full control and was a blessing.
(Oddly, I recall all this bit)
A day of Catheter shortage, and Ejaz called for supplies for me. All the rest of the page? Unreadable.
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Sorry, I made a mess of this.
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TUESDAY
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‘Orribly Oracled Ode
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04:00hrs, I woke up with a very painful coccyx. Much worse than just after I hit it on the armchair on a Whoopsiedangleplop Accifauxpas, yesterday.
I decided, well, very nearly, that I had to get up earlier today. Remembering my last two mornings, which took ages for me to stir and to get up and were filled with many droppings-offs. When I actually tried to get up, the agony from the coccyx bone was so bad, it took such a lot of gentle manoeuvring to ease the pain; it was 06:30hrs!  
But I dropped off! This was followed by at least a dozen more trips back into the land of nod. Once on my plates of meat, the agony had turned to a little bit of discomfort.
For the rest of the day, it remained the same. It only stung me badly when I stood up or sat down. Curious about this, I took off the night Catheter bag and got the computer on to ask Google about the coccyx bone. Fearing another injury that I couldn’t afford trips to the A&E anymore, I gave the details and got this reply. 
“A bruised tailbone causes lower back pain, swelling, and tenderness that typically heals on its own within four to eight weeks. (Good to read) Relief comes from using an ice pack wrapped in a cloth, taking over-the-counter pain medicine like ibuprofen, and sitting on a special ring or wedge cushion.” An ice pack? Would that mean me going shopping for some? I can’t afford a Carer to go with me, so that is out. Ibuprofen. With the arthritis being so bad, I’m already using my max-allowed three times a day in liquid form to control arthritis in the fractured knee & wrist, lower back, neck, and right shoulder and arm.  
But I was pleased it would dissipate later.
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While on the computer, I got emails coming in. One got to me and started self-lambasting and swearing at myself,
Your order will be delivered today at…
The times I do this! People say, well don’t order any then! 
Thanks to a mixture of the TBI, Depression, frustration & premorbid cognitive impairment, maybe helped along by 
Concussion: A mild hit to the head can disrupt brain work and cause short-term confusion or memory loss. Traumatic Brain Injury (TBI): Hard blows or accidents damage brain tissue, making it hard to form new memories. Stroke: Blocked blood flow or a silent stroke harms brain cells and leads to sudden or slow memory decline; I’ve had them all!
Depression and Anxiety:  Emotional stress and low mood make it hard to focus and remember daily details. (Oh, yes!) Vitamin Deficiencies: Low levels of vitamin B12 hurt nerve cells and cause forgetfulness. (I’m on B12 vitamin tablets, but they are not given to me by the Doctor; a Nurse brought some. The carers will not issue them or remind me to take them; I forget. Of course, they must be out of date by now. Sleep Apnea: Bad sleep deprives the brain of oxygen and harms recall. 
I’ve had or got them all! I’m just greedy for agony!
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The sun came out; temperature got up to 29°c, later.
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Off to the Porcelain Throne now;
Core-Blooming-Blimey! Phooey!
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The late sky clouds…
I swear they spoke to me…
Full of awesome beauty,
Fearing mankinds complacency!
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Reading my notes, with difficultly…
Writing too small, you see
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Meal of the day,
Beetroot, Stilton cheese, tomatoes,
smoked mackerel, mini gherkins, 
pickled onions, soft sourdough
bread with no-butter, butter.
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Inchie Today: Sunday 2nd August 2026

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SUNDAY 2nd AUGUST 2026
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Topsy-Tervy Today
Shortened due to time lost with the blood pressure issue. Not a lot… but being the dedicated young rascally lad that I am, I started this blog as soon as it was possible.
Monday morning at 04:00hrs.
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Short but not sweet, I fear.
So many changes, so many new problems. So far behind with everything. So many phone calls; Doctor, INR, and Cardiac blood, British Gas, so many unsolved issues…
Oh, that’s for Monday. Tsk!
I may not be back, Humph!
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Whoops, missed these last night.
BP Check results. When the Carer left, I called 111 to ask advice on these high readings. According to the list the nurse made me, so high should have been a 999 call.
I rang them and told them I’m feeling unwell. She put me through to another department. I answered the questions. And they sent an ambulance to check me out. I feared the very thought of going back into the hospital. I’ll try to cut this short, as it is now 19:30hrs on Monday.
Q&As, many tests, and they gave me a leaflet thingy, telling me not to do BP tests until after the Carer comes, as the ticker and blood tablets are given in the morning. I thanked them, apologised for bothering them, and they were packing up their tackle when one got a phone call.
I was whisked off. Many tests, much sitting around waiting for the results, and I got a lift back home.
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Near teatime, but I’d thoughtfully told the Carers not to call at lunch or teatime, and I’d ring if kept in, back to some out of sync & timing events.
Sorted waste.
Early view
Feet with the longest toenails ever
Bit of fat around the ankles.
Disappeared by morning.
Potatoes, Curlies & Stilton, with a mini pork pie.
TTFN.
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Inchie: Friday 31th July 2026

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Friday 31st July 2026
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A Little Moan & groan to start… Sorry.
I/ve had a few days of bad depression; I sometimes get to the stage when I lose interest and despise myself for doing so. Take it as it comes. But not this week.
My invented helper, , has not visited for ages. Although maybe I created him to help me cope? This indicated to me that I have lost interest in all my failings, flundering and fearsome unsolvable problems. I can go on as long as there is money to pay my direct debits… Little things like electricity, rent, etc. Then what?
My problems in tackling problems are not something I want. The Dementia is getting worse; no question. I cannot do something one day and can the next. Obviously there is more to the effects. Like remembering what has and hasn’t been done. Many folk in my position have these and other problems to cope with. How come this morning I can write things like this? Yesterday, another example, both bad days for depression?
I loathe myself for dropping, walking into things, forgetting things, but most of all, my inability to get to the bank to sort money out. If I go, it will cost a fortune that I don’t have; my balance is that low. Taxis & Carers to go with me, likely to be £60, based on what I have to pay for taxis to and from the QMC-A&E when the Catheter blocks. (Why they sent me to A&E is unknown.) The nurse told me to get a taxi as it would be quicker than an “ambulance.” And classed as a medical emergency. I arrived at A&E, and it took 4 hours to be seen. During which, the Catheter remained painful and blocked;  Then he could not get the tube back in on two tries, went to another office, and it took that man twice to fit it in. I’m missing chunks out from here on, after seeing the waffle I’ve already put on.
Last time I went, the taxi there cost more than usual, and I did not have enough to get one back. I got no guides or facts given about frequencies of changes. Or how to undo and refit the tube collection array on my leg. The only thing said was: do not let the array fall loose! It fell off the following morning.
I’m due a visit to the Nuthall Hospital in August. But will not be able to take a Carer to answer questions. Hopefully I can get a lift from Easy Link, if their bus does not break down again like last time. 

So, you see here approx’ 15% of my problems. Huh!
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I gorrup at 06:40; (depressed without cause) The first thing I noticed was the night bag on the floor, in the same position it was when I got my head down. I cannot recall being woken up overnight. No acidy tastes in my throat, so no seizures had. Yet I felt so tired and worn out!
There was plenty of urine in the bag as well. I got the BP tackle out and left the night bag on the recliner, and did the BP tests. BP high; BP was 170/70, pulse 68, Temp 35.5, blood 95 high, 78 low. Had it much worse these last three weeks. I think this is why Matron took a photograph of the Excel recording sheet with her.
Ah, Matron, my only hope to get in a home.
Matron said that it is getting harder to find space.
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A most rapid sudden requirement for the toilet arrived. Nothing new about this, this last week. I think it was a fourth first-morning visit on the trot, and I barely got there in time; my excrement suits itself when it wants to evacuate. A Trotsky Terence job again.
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I emptied the night bag and returned to the recliner to record the reading. You’ll notice in the photo above that the urine in it was bright and orangy. Minutes later as urine began to flow… Scarily, it was mostly blood!
That got me worrying. The very thought of going to the damned uncaring QMC A&E deepened my depression and frustration. Not to mention the £30 or so that would be needed to get there and back, for the taxis.
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I started to get things ready, paper towels and glasses put in the three-wheeled walker as I got it from the balcony. Got the trousers and jumper out. Could not get the shoes on, but managed to get a pair of slippers on. I was going to ring DG. Realising the Carer’s due around 0800hrs, and decided to wait for him so he could get my proper outside shoes on for my feet, and help with the trousers. 
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I got a giant potato in the crock-out while waiting, and cleaned up a bit, and did the teggies. When I got back to the room, I noticed the urine was now much lighter and much less bloody. Another flipping mystery! But the joy of not having to go to the A&E briefly visited me. Great!
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0800hrs, the Carer arrived. I did not mention the blood problem for fear he would ring for an ambulance.
Medications: Porphyrin pain in the shoulder and neck.
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I got today’s grusone daily Ode created; I’d sunk back down again in spirits, self-pity had to be avoided.
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Then caught up with finishing yesterday’s post. But throughout the day, my concentration was once again cognitively weak. Easily sidetracked, disoriented, warped at times. None of these was helped with the eyesight getting worse. I’ll be glad to get one of the eyes done; when? No idea, waiting for the summoning appointment to arrive. My mind was the second concern today. 
The Bank situation being the top one.
I’m missing .
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Checked the overcooked potato in the crockpot. I overcooked it a little when I say little… I mean a lot. Tsk!
It’ll have to be eaten mashed.
Or maybe roasted slices?
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I went onto the balcony; the heat hit me when I opened the door to take some cloud and sky shots. No signs of rain amongst them today.
The floor greenery is going yellow and brown out there.
Still look beautiful up in the sky though. 
But the lack of rain and too much heat is destroying the greenery all around. 
The end of the car park, which usually had wet mud slides from the Woodthorpe Park behind us, looked bone-dry. The lawn bit is now 80% destroyed. Sad! I imagine the wildfires may spread to more areas when this cooler spell returns to hot weather.  
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Chicken sausages, boiled, sliced and then baked potatoes; with Teriyaki sauce. Tomatoes and some raw garden peas.
Taste Rating: 7/10.
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Short but Welcome!
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Inchie Today: Thursday 30th July 2026

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UK’s Latest Flare-Up
Newest outbreak: An area of about 600m by 200m (1,968ft by 656ft) was alight in Abbot’s Wood
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Thursday 30th July 2026
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06:10hrs, almost an : As I blurbed back into faux-life. To the sound and sensation of what felt like a bubbling evacuation doing its best to escape. Although this was a semi-panic moment, I recognised the foul acidic after-seizure tasting reflux on its way up through my throat, mouth and nasals. Meaning my balance was not so good, but I used all speed available to get up and hasten to the wet room. Before I’d left the room, I realised that the evacuation was gaining impetus, and an aroma, if that’s the word, escaped and permeated the entire flat. Most fortunately, the WC door was only about five paces from where I stood. Which equates to about ten of my shuffles. I was certain sure that I did not tear my protection pants down in time as the flood, nae, torrent began. Once it had finished, I nervously checked the state of the PPs. Fabulous! All was white! Can’t I say the same for the Porcelain? This fortune seemed to ease the depths of my depression; I liked it!
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I took off and emptied the nocturnal night bag, cleaned the room’s furniture. Then had a wash, shave, and was about to clean my teeth, and the intercom rang out. I got to the panel, but it had gone wonky again: no sound, but it showed the view for a second. It was a food delivery.
My depression sank again. Why the Hell, how the Hell, did I order food again? I think I may have made the order for next week; later, I found it recorded for next Thursday on my calendar. I tried to blame it on my Arithmaphobia, the Premorbid Cognitive Impairment, Toothache Tiffany, Fractured Knee Frank, Arthur Itis, anything but myself. I lost the plot there again. 
I had to get a dressing gown on quickly, to get down to let him in. But, no, by the time I got to the lift, the driver was getting out-of-it. A sociable chap. When I mentioned I ordered for the wrong week, he told me I’d be surprised by the number of times that older people have told him the same thing. Which is basically the same as the Iceland driver told me two weeks ago.
There’s a moral here. Somewhere?
He helped me get the food into my carriers. Then asked me to amend my telephone number on the J Sainsbury site; he tried to phone me earlier, and the number JS gave him was not recognised. Also, next time you get the day wrong, or forget it, or are unprepared, I can call. Hehe!
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I got the food away, and hoovered the flat. Then I emptied all the waste bins into one big one. In what turned into a vain hope, that the Carer would trip over it and take it to the waste disposal tunnel. Hahaha! 
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I tried to get my slippers and protection pants on. Coped with the PPs, but the slippers were too painful.
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♬ Oh, Susana ♬ chimed from the doorbell; in walked a Carer. Not even noticing the waste bag. Med’s issued.
He took this shot of my extremely long-nailed, painful, Raynaud’s phenomenon-ridden toes. But the legs and feet have lost all their swelling. He is doing a long visit at noon. I asked him to replace the day Catheter bag. He still thinks it is two-week changes.
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I got on the computer and swiftly got lost with what I was doing, done or going to do. Thus, three hours later when the Carer returned, I’d only just updated yesterday’s blog. 
I asked him again if he would go shopping with me. No answer. So I pointed out he refused to yesterday, saying he’s going tomorrow. I had to convince him, and showed him the vegetable stew I’d been making. How can I have a vegetable stew without potatoes? He scowled a little, but I put pressure on him and by the time he’d dressed me and we got to the bus stop, he was back to normal. Sat on the bench with his mobile out.
We were soon in Sherwood, and walking up Mansfield Road towards Ozan store, Carer told me we must hurry. I said I’m doing my best, and gave him an Inchie stare-glare! When we arrived at the store, he’d mellowed and took an interest and helped me get a selection of foods. We got some Soda water, Hungarian. Couldn’t find the French cheese I got last week, but he chose one for me from the other blue-veined cheeses. We investigated their wonderful deli-meats counter; they had none of the pork I wanted, so the Carer took me to the prepacked meats and found some smoked belly pork that tickled my fancy. The veg they had was not fresh, but I got a carrot and a bag of potatoes, the best of a bad batch, with help from the Carer. I also got a mini-sized thick-coated lemon madeira cake, well, two of them. One left now.
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Paid up, and back up to the bus stop. Carer sat down on the floor near the bus stop; due in 18 mins and back on his mobile. I kept talking to him, which was not appreciated. So rabbited on even more. Hehehe!
Back to the flats, and the lad seemed to cheer up a smidgeon. Hobbled through the three flat block sections, and in the lift back up to my cell.
Carer got his coat on. I said farewell; he said, Arnie-like, I’ll be back. Haha!
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I added some carrot, sliced very thin so it would cook quicker. After all that, I cut up spuds thin again. Cut some more yellow tomatoes, onion, water chestnuts, sweetcorn, chestnut mushrooms, left on a low light.
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Back to the computer, still struggling to concentrate. Jenny’s hubby, Frank, came in with dried laundry for me. So kind of him. Bless him.
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Carer came for the 16:00hr call. Medications issued.
I was feeling drained, and my eyes were worse than ever. (Cataract). I have to keep trying on and changing to a pair that might be easier.
It’s been around erm… I believe it was April when I went for the preop checks, when I had a seizure. and got another last week. It’s been a long time, and I’ve got to wait again now for the operation, well, lasering. Jenny had a similar kerfuffle; she was telling me. When she finally got to have the operation, they decided not to do it! Poor Jenny! 
I struggle with seeing the keyboard, especially worse in the afternoons and evenings.
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The vegetable stew/soup was served up; not a lot. Much of it seemed to have gone and evaporated? What did I do wrong in the cooking process? No idea! However, it tasted rather good. Taste Rating: 8.8/10.
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Carer Mirza did the last call, and very Welcome. The lad is a Gem. I was so tired. I still hope for a miracle, and Mirza & Ejaz can start visiting me again. But, with me deciding to try and cut out the long visits done by the uncaring young bully-boys, I’ll stand no chance now.
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TTFN, Keep safe, and Good Luck!
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Inchie Today: Wendnesday 29th July 2026

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WEDNESDAY 29th JULY 2026
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06:10hrs: As I stirred this morning, EQ-Inchy was warning me that I would regret getting up today.
Astoundingly, he was right, once again! Worra Rotten Day!
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I’m not going to record everything; it’d take too long; I can’t remember everything anyway. The first thing I realised was the absence of calls to the Porcelain Throne. Nine hours later now, and still no evacuation. Mind you. I did eat all of the meal and a half that I ate just before getting settled. I’ve put the photo on again.
An absolute feast it was. Raw fresh garden peas, potato-curls, and a packet of bacon-bits in the six thick slices of sourdough bread, with Teriyaki sauce. And two yellow tomatoes. May I have mayhap eaten too much and blocked the innards up? Hehe!
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I mosied, well, hobbled into the kitchen to make a brew of Glengettie tea; remembering I smashed a precious mug the other day, and taking extra care with this one.
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I reached up to get the tea, knocking a Thompson’s tea cabby out with the Glengettie one, which lost its lid as it bounced via the kettle, radiator, fridge and rolled in a circle as it hit the floor; scattering the black tea bags en route. As I finished collecting the tea bags with the pickerupper, to be sorted and save the unbroken ones to use again, the landline chirrupped.
I picked up the receiver, said, ‘Good morning’, and a strained female said something along the lines of: “Wot time do yer call that gerrome?” Silence fell for a few seconds followed by, “Oh. I am a C_ _ _! I’ve rang the wrong number, ain’t I?” Then the dialling tone returned. I was sniling to myself as I tripped over the laundry bag. And fortunately fell to the right, and leaned into the bed. Thus saving a possible trip to the hospital. Which is so bad these last few visits.  
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Chronically depressed about the things that happened today. Can’t pull myself of of it.
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Although Matron calling usually picks me up, well, it did, but it didn’t last long once she’d gone. All did was tell her of my woes. Bless her.
Depressed like never before.
The Red Cross engineer who called as well, to service & check on the bed, was a grand chap. He told me to ring my quack and ask to be referred to an O.T. I think I have been, but am not sure.
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Still not paid a visit to the Porcelain Throne.
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Higher due to Matron visiting,
The helpful RC man,
and Jenny’s email.
It’s not me today; I’m so depressed.
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Thursday morning, catch-up. Feeling a slight bit less down; a sense of acceptance of failures is easier than fighting a losing, unwinnable battle.
The first incident, accident, or failure will, of course, bring out my frustrated temper with myself of late.
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19:00: Meal of the day.
Soup & last of the sourdough bread,
TASTE RATING: 5.2/10
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Didn’t even get a peep-in today.
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All the best, oh, the UK has now got blazing trees on the South Coast. Expect more, we’re told on the news.
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Sussex Fire
Isle Of Man…
Isle Of Man, second one
Isle Of Man…,
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Inchie: Tuesday 28th July 2026

/ Inchie / 10 Comments

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My last photographic adventure,
I thought I’d caught an alien invader.
Come to see Europe’s raging wildfire?
I had a minutes-worth of Ataxia,
Did they bring weapons, armamentaria?
“‘Twas the light bulb’s reflection, “I get dafter!
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Last night’s meal left me with digestion,
How did it taste? A Good question,
My rating was 3.5 out of 10!
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TUESDAY 28th JULY 2025
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06:30hrs: Bounced out of bed, removing the night pouch as I jumped over the wheelchair and did a few minutes of shadow boxing, as I hummed the National Anthem.
A hundred or so press-ups later, then some squats and toe touchings, and I needed the Porcelain Throne…
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Alright, I’ll start again then…
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I begrudgingly woke up with bladder pains of the flowback nature. My immediate thought was: Shit! I’ll have to get a taxi to the QMC A&E now. Naked, I instantly started finding problems before checking first. 
Another £30+ in taxi fares, then a wait of four-and-a-half hours like last time, waiting to be seen. Blood and urine bursting out through the fungal lesions on my sadly shrinking minuscule, battered mini-pinkie… The embarrassment, frustrations, and a mega-depression to cope with…, then realised there was nobody to help me get dressed! I’d have to go with the clothes in the walker-trolley, and a dressing gown on. 
I checked the night bag to find I’d left the smaller day bag on overnight! That was the problem giving me the backflow to the kidneys. I emptied it straight away, and slowly, after emptying & taking an Oxycodone.
I noticed my eyesight was much worse this morning, put oil in the ears, and drops in the eyes.
Then all the other unsettled, unsorted, not solved issues came flooding in. Oligarchal British Gas & Virgin Media. CorelDraw, the bank farce, Neurology, EENT, Nutall Hospital… on and on these worries worried me. 
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Some bother with the Carer this morning. I was in a right bad, gruff mood, and I kept finding things for him to do each time he sat in the recliner to use his mobile. I told him yesterday that we would go down on his longer call to get the keyboard I can see. He went through each of the clapped-out keyboards I had and found one that had packed up yesterday. Got it going, but it is still too much hard work seeing it in such a worse state.
I suggested we go to the computer shop to get a replacement; then he told me the man rang him and said he had no lit-up keyboards in stock. Doubts showed their faces, but I said we would go to the shop tomorrow. Then get some spuds, then call at the opticians to explain that I had a seizure at the pre-op meeting at the EENT, and had to wait six weeks to get another appointment; that was for two weeks later! Then we can catch a bus outside the opticians back to the flat. If I have time, he said.   
I got him to mop the kitchen floor; it needs it nearly every day, with me being barefoot. Got him to clean between the fridge door; it was filthy. He returned to his mobile in my recliner. I asked him to check the dates on some food in a box behind the chair. Five minutes later, he was back sitting on the recliner, mobile recording.
I asked him to clean between the cupboards in the kitchen. But he just watched me do them instead. I did a decent job too. Then realised it was me who did them. I asked him to sort the dates in the fridge, and he said, “I’ve done enough now”!
So, I was busier than before he came on his second hour-long visit. Which meant that when he arrived for the 16:00hr medicine call, I’d barely started this blog!
I used to love doing the blog. I was so weary, foofy-eyed, and frustrated that I let him do his usual: more time spent on his phone than doing anything.
Which tempts me to accept the offer from the lady to be Carer for me, and get rid of the pathetic young Carer I’m stuck with. No problems with Misra, but he calls on me less often, and Carer Ejaz doesn’t call at all now.
I still sense an ulterior or hidden truth about the way I’m being treated. Shame.
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Sister Jane rang me, but I was at my lowest ebb in years at the time. I may have been less than appreciative, forcing a thanks for calling as I put down the phone.
Feeling ashamed and guilty.
The last time my balance was as low as this,
would be around about 1966.
I can’t write anymore.
I’m a gibbering wreck.
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I’m hoping that Carer Mirza comes tonight.
He did not come; another vote in favour of
getting rid of the Carers altogether.
Without the help of Mirza & Ejaz,
it’s just not working. I cannot see it working, and I cannot afford it. I need intervention from a safe source, PLEASE!
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Carer in other room as I prepped the meal.
Mizra would help me when using knives, knowing I drop and lose grip on things later in the evenings.

Dropped the mug Jenny gave me last time I broke one, grabbed at it and clouted my knuckles on the counter edge and missed the mug, which shattered on the floor. Carer appeared and got the mess cleared for me.
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I wondered for a moment if my plea to go into a home is proceeding or has been rejected? No communication re the situation. But with the crisis in Social Care and the NHS, I can understand if it is being refused.
But I can’t go on much longer financially, or emotionally, with the cost of the Carers, and the bank statements not being looked at yet, weeks after they arrived and I informed the relevant people. The Warden and the NCC Procurement. No communication re the situation.
Understandably, methinks, but it still makes one think about an existence amidst billions, and feeling useless, pathetic and abandoned.
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Sourdough breag, bacon, fresh peas,
potato Curlies. I ate the lot!
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Inchie Today: Sunday 26th April 2026

/ Inchie / 9 Comments

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After washing the pots from last night’s meal, I dropped the cutlery and cut my finger as I retrieved them. I was so down, it didn’t even bother me. Took this snap later.
Got an ice cream from the freezer, settled into the £300 second-hand shop bought, c1966. Moth-eaten, bedraggled, grotty, cringingly beige-coloured, much-dilapidated, crumb-containing from my nocturnal nibblings, bug-ridden, itch-inspiring, not working recliner. My aim was to eat the ice cream cone while watching some recorded episodes of ‘Heartbeat’. This didn’t work out, fancy that!
I put down the ice cream cone to investigate why the TV was informing me there was No Internet Link, or something like that. HUH! Could I find the Virgin Media remote control that I’d used five minutes earlier to turn on the television? NO!
Another of the mysteries of Woodthorpe Court, with the hobgoblins, spectres, gnomai, phantasms, ghosts, the grotesque succubae, extraterrestrials, ectoplasms, and spirits. Receptive Aphasia Phyllis, Paroxysmal dyskinesia, Episodic ataxia, Ménière’s disease, Dark, Deep, Depressing Darius, Peripheral Neuropathy Pete. The Catheter threatening to block, causing a mega-painful flowback, Nicodemus Neurotransmitters Dying, Glaucoma Gladys, Stuttering Stephany, Lymphorrhea Leslie, Premorbid Cognitive Impairment Inchie, the damned seizures, or the Fata Morganas that have been sent to taunt, irritate and terminate my already limited saneness of mind. My faith, sanity, and logicality were already on the wane. I searched the room; it had to be in here somewhere! Surely to Heaven? Not in the chair. Not on the floor. Not underneath the chair, cupboard bed or on the Carers’ table? No. I looked in the wet room? No. The kitchenette? No. But it was a good thing I checked in there. I’d left the hot tap (faucet) running. Cleaned up the mess. Then I even looked in the hallway for the remote control. No!
Back to the front room, and saw it straight away!
It was on the cabinet with the TV on it!
My spirits were sinking, but I was so glad I found it. But it proved of little help in my getting the damned thing to work. I got the computer back on, and that was working okay. Fiddled with plugs and sockets to make sure they were all connected. Tried turning the box off then back on again. I’d not yet got the night Catheter on, and the day one was getting full, so I emptied it. Recorded the colour and amount, emptied it in the toilet, returned and gave up with the TV. I plopped down on the recliner to take the slippers off… squashing the now melted ice cream with my bum as I did so. I swore a fair bit, then got the cloths to dry things up. I gave up the search. I climbed into the hospital bed, still swearing and cursing at my lousy luck!
I was amazed when, within a minute at most, sweet Morpheus welcomed me.
Story to be finalised later.
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SUNDAY 26th JULY 2026
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0620hrs; I stirred back into imitation-life, almost falling, getting myself out of bed, to hasten to the wet room and Porcelain Throne. Another Constipation Conrad affair. Causing some bleeding from
Cleaned things up, and medicated the rear end. Then thought I heard voices?
I checked the front door in case someone wanted entry; nobody there, but still I could hear voices nearby?
I soon realised they were from the front room, and thought the Carer may have arrived early, walked into the room, and Another miracle: I found that the TV was on! A Sherlock Holmes Mode was engaged; to try to work out what had gone on, and was going on! I did my best to work it out logically. To put the TV on, I have to press the remote control each time. I was in bed… Ah, I rummaged through the bedding and found it. Leaving another puzzle to be sorted. I think, erm… How, when using it for the first time, did I manage to transport it to the bed, when I did not find it or go near the bed after losing it? I think I’ve confused myself now.
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Had a quick wash, and took two photographs of the amazing sky and the clouds on offer from the kitchenette window, then went back with the remote to see if the TV would come back on again.
Well, it did, but the screen flickers a bit and I still can’t get on to watch any prerecorded stuff that I’ve saved to watch. Tut!
The computer farce, £850 plus fitting. British Gas, increased payment to nearly £300 a month. The Bank demands that I’ve got to go see them, and that would cost me dosh for a Carer to go with me. They must know my financial situation… Then again, I can’t get on their site; they have the wrong telephone number and the wrong email address. But they use the right one with the statement totals? I could lose it altogether.
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I’m feeling bad this morning, but with a twinge of accepting that things are not going to get any better. Where can I get help from?
Someone, not a Carer for Heaven’s sake, to go with me to the Bank. Advise me on how to cancel standing orders I know nothing about.
Finish with the Carers; I’m simply running out of money. And it’s not working at all; now they have taken Ejaz and Mirza off me. I hope to get a cleaner to replace them, to do the laundry, and not have any Carers call at all.
I’ll need help with the dosages and medications, of course, before they are got rid of.
That way, hopefully I’ll be paying a lot less for the cleaner, and I should be able to survive financially.
Need help to sort things out, of course.
A home seems a great idea, but I don’t think it is on the cards now. Haven’t heard anything about it.
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Gawd, I’m feeling even lower now. And feeling a chunk pathetic, to say the least.
The BP readings are depressing as well.
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The bikkies My Angel Jenny sent for me were put in a bikkie jar all themselves.
The Carer arrived, ‘Leave-it-Stewart’ this time.
I can’t help this sinking sensation and feeling. Worried.
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Second caller, Ahram arrived.
I searched for some nocturnal Catheter pouches as we only had a few left under the Carers’ table now. I found a bag after a lengthy deep search. As you can see in the photo above, another thing to worry about. Can you see how much narrower the new tube on the top is compared to the usual one? And the sealing around the release valve looks likely to come apart before the urine flows in. Carer Ahram offered to ring them about it on Wednesday.
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I went into the wet room with a view to getting a shave and wash. guess what?
I’d left that sink’s tap running this time. So, shaving & washing are off the menu.
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TTFN