Inchie: Monday, 28th September 2026

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Stirred back to life after 4.5 hrs of wonderful deep sleep. Pondering over getting up and what needed doing before the Carer arrived for the trip to the hospital.
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Forced my aching back body up from the bed onto my feet and carried out the balance exercises. Fell back onto the bed in the process. Cursed a little, then got back to mild exercising. Then looked for, but couldn’t find, the Camera to take shots of the view while making a mug of my favourite Glengettie tea. Never did find the Camera. Never made the tea either while looking for the Camera. And I’d used it to snap the flipping bed!
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I made the waste bags into one. Wandered off track a little; when I had to go to the Porcelain Throne. Firm, light brown, almost square chunks again. Knocking more things behind the floor cabinet. Tsk!
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Finished compiling Sunday’s blog and posted it; then the Carer Andrew arrived. I told him I’d swapped socks and washed my feet last night to save time today, with the EENT appointment being on.
He almost smiled. I asked him when he issued the medications to lather the medicated heat stuff on my back, and then put a pad on. The pad seems to have disappeared, or we forgot to put it on.
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He left, and a minute later the intercom chimed up. I got to it pretty quickly, but the damned thing would not work, not to open the door. I thought it might be Andrew coming back because he’d forgotten something when he left, so I stayed near the intercom in case he rang back. But no. The doorbell chimed, and it was a different blood vampire nurse arriving.
Did a god job, taking extra vials for Cardiac.
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Ode done for today’s blog.
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Off to the wet room to scrub up, shave, clean the teggies, and medicate where I can reach. No bleeding from the teeth. No cuts or nicks from shaving. I did drop the mouthwash bottle, though. After medicating the rear end, knees, and applying Phorpain gel to the hands, wrists and barrier cream where I could reach, I battled to get protective pants on without ripping them.
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Then, I even managed to get my trousers on unaided. 
. Then tried to get my shoes on unaided, falling onto the recliner in the process and knocking the new biscuit jar off of the ottoman, and it broke as it hit the floor. Took me ages to clear up the fragments of glass.
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Carer Ejaz arrived. He got my shoes and jumper on for me. Gave me some painkillers and checked that things were safe before ringing for a taxi. Then we went down to wait for it outside the flats. 
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The driver seemed addicted to driving down as many 20mph side roads as he could on the way. Still, it wasn’t too bad at £12.50. We got into the EENT and made a few wrong turns trying to find the laser room we needed. It was packed solid. Ejaz spotted one free seat and got me ensconced on it. Without hearing aids, I couldn’t hear what anyone said, even Ejaz in that waiting area. Good job, he came, too!
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We were summoned to a small room to have our eyes tested through a dot pad. Apparently, I have cataracts in both eyes, but they will do just the left one today. Sent back to the waiting area and waited.
We were called and taken through some short passageways to another room.
I thought it was for more tests, but I learned it was the laser treatment room. Which got me further confused. The treatment thingamajig was similar to the test ones last time, but I was not able to get my chin up high enough to get into position for the laser. Complications compounded when I did eventually get into a position to suit the Doctor; I was so tight, my Catheter tube got trapped underneath the mechanical box. And flow-back pains prevented me from keeping still. (Memories prompted of the last visit when I had a seizure).

The Doctor was getting a little peed off with me, I think. She was silent, possibly thinking for a short while, and then said something to Ejaz, and left the room. I asked Ejaz what was happening; he said she had gone to get some help. A man came back with the Doctor, and they changed the height of the chair, and he forced my back (much pain) forwards to hold me in position. I was still leaning towards the right, so as he pushed, I needed the occasional twisting of my neck back into the correct position, and he used his torso to keep me tight to the chin-rest. To be honest, I felt I was a right nuisance for them.
I must have been keeping all those other patients waiting & making their appointment late. She told me that’s all done. Both your eyes would be cloudy for a while. If you get any floaters or pain, get back to us.
No Blepha creams, no eye drops to take with me, no eye patch to wear; I was gobsmacked. I was ushered out of the door, and with Ejaz went to the front door of the unit & Ejaz called for a taxi. My eyes were mega-foggy by then. Ejaz said he asked if the taxi could stop at an ATM to get money so he could pay them; they agreed. 15 minutes later, the taxi arrived. He stopped at an ATM so I could pay him. Boy, what a roundabout route he took; this trip cost £18,50.
Home, Ejaz medications given. Got me in night attire. Off he went, a good lad.
Eyes foggy; now the left eye is better than the right eye. Got to go back to have the right one done when they inform me. Bet that Doctor will take the day off when she sees me booked in. Hehe!
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I took two snaps,
of the evening sky.
Took off the hospital tab.
Reheated the potatoes to make a meal.
Tried to get a bit of the blog done, but eyes,
mood & tiredness beat me.
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Carer Prem did a late call.
Took the socks off, gave painkillers.
And reminded me to make sure the taps
and cooker were turned off when
I’d made and eaten the meal.
Vegetable Curry tonight.
Cobs defrosted from the freezer.
The crock-pot boiled spuds were
quartered and added to the feast.
The cons were crap, but all the
rest went down a real treat!
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Inchie: Sunday 27th September 2026

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Woke at about 07:20hrs. Lay there assessing the ailment’s situation; result: Worst: angina. 2nd: shared twixt sciatica & the back pains. 3rd: Toothache!
Didn’t have time to feel sorry for myself, as Carer arrived to encourage me to bear the pain and ease my elephantine body from the recliner. Where I’d fallen asleep, but not until late in the morning, and no sooner got up and regained my balance, had I to hobble hastily to the Porcelain Throne. Utterly convinced another tsunami was on the way. I was totally wrong.
I took a chunk out of the Carer’s time to urge the painful, constipated evacuation to get a move on. Then, in my haste to get back to the Carer, I took a snap of the dark gap to see if anything I needed medically had been knocked off amongst several items off of the back of the floor cabinet. The snap revealed very little identifiable. I got back to the Carer, who got the diabetic socks on, medications issued; PKs taken, being one morphine & one codeine. And a heat pad put on the back.
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Porcelain two attended to; harder than ever!
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Computer on, did the health checks, recorded them, and checked the notes for starting this job on this blog. Oh, I found the mobile: 11 texts and nine missed calls.
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Realised I’d not done yesterday’s blog, and got back on track… did I say back on track? Really, I went more off than on. I kept reading the notes I’d sent off, repeatedly doing things I realised I’d not done yet. I was all over the place, but seemed happy enough doing these things. Sorted the bins, hand-washed some socks, made up a water bottle, made a mug of Glengettie and left it to brew, forgetting all about it. Fitted a third and final visit to the Porcelain Throne in, Rock hard again. My  Haemorrhoids were bleeding. I put some potatoes in the crock-pot slow-cooker, on a low setting.
Unknowingly, I’d dipped the sleeve of my dressing gown in the soya and water. I wasn’t too much bothered; I didn’t swear or curse or feel sorry for myself… not even when I scalded a finger.
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After dropping the spoon, pot lid and banging my head against the open cupboard door, I went off track again. I decided that cooking, even the basics, was too dangerous a job for me. I decided (yes, it’s a rarity, but there you are) to order some Parsley Box ready meals. I stopped long ago, as they are not the best of meals; but I can heat them in the microwave relatively accident-free. I went on their site, and there was a special offer: two free meals and soups. Made up the order, went to pay, and to get the special freebies, I needed to spend another £15! and rather foolishly, I did. Clot of the first order, here!
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During the day, I lost my mobile again, my camera, and my remote control. I found the camera and realised I may not have enough ready cash to pay for taxis to and from the hospital tomorrow. This called for a concentrated search through my flat and coat pockets to gather all the coins and notes I could find.
I took a snap of the room I searched with the newly found camera, but I did a poor job of it. Then took a shot with the flash on.
That was slightly better, but not good, shame.
So, I tried taking a couple of photographs from the kitchenette window, the first one of the car park below. All spaces filled. Then I managed to drop the camera with ease. Agonised, and a few words of self-criticising nature were passed. Then I took a snap of my once-visited daily precious tree copse. Which was a mistake, cause it evoked a little self-pity and resentment in me, cause, I am no longer able or capable of making my daily hobble through it. I loved doing this.
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Off to the wetroom for a shave, teggie-cleaning and good scrub-up, and medicationalisationing areas, that are not to painful or dizzy creating to reach.
No cuts while shaving, but I did drop the razor twice. Freshened up with aftershave and body spray. Got barrier cream on a tissue, lifted up my mammoth flabby stomach, and applied the cream. Then around the genitals. Then applied the haemorrhoid cream to the piles.
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As I left to prepare the meal, I suddenly felt weary, all-in. But feeling hungry, I pressed on. Unbelievable, the amount of things I dropped, lost, or couldn’t find. I genuinely thought I was going bonkers… And still feeling so tired… Settling to eat the meal was its usual farce. I put the tray on the chair. Got my feet on the chair, the tray on my knee and feet up on the chair. No relaxing, though; I realised I had not yet found the remote to put the TV on. Feet down, tray back on the chair, and searched for the remote – I did find the torch, but not the remote. Then I dropped the remote as I sat on it and turned the TV on… that made me jump, hehe!
I almost started eating the meal, but I remembered I had not put the nocturnal pouch on the Catheter. Feet down, tray back on the chair, and fetched a light bag, attached it, and realised I’d got the wrong spectacles on, so while I was up, I swapped them so I could see the TV.
Settling to eat the meal, yet again, I put the tray on the chair. Got my feet on the chair, the tray on my knee and feet up on the chair.
By which time, the meal had dried out. Did not look the slightest bit appealing, and I’d lost my appetite.
Three-quarters went into the bin. Got up and washed the pots. Returned with a lemon-curd yoghourt, went back to get a spoon, back to the recliner. I got my feet on the chair, quilt over the legs, night pouch on the floor, and watched some lower league football matches I’d recorded yesterday. Then I turned off the TV and waited for sleep to arrive, hoping to get an early start in the morning.
To feel more up to preparing, dressing, and getting ready for the taxi to the hospital for cataract surgery. Fell asleep 6 hours later. Humph!
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Inchie: Saturday 26th Sept 26

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YESTERDAY – ONE: Calamity!
The Catheter Blocked!
The bladder pained…
Agony was confirmed,
Hospital trip, anticipated,
Frustrations were expected,
Fear of this was identified,
From my penile lesion, urine flowed,
On my clothes, body, carpet it sprayed,
Daren’t say how bad it smelled,
My mobile was disconnected…
I’d weed on it; I suspected,
My recliner got properly soaked,
Later, clothes will need to be laundered,
Landline used, hearing aids not mended,
Summoned District Nurses, then waited,
Took some Morphine, lesion medicated,
More urine involuntarily jettisoned,
Towels used, my leak was barricaded,
Two nurses came, problem was mended,
Fears of a hospital trip were suspended,
I know I am hexed, unlucky, jinxed…
Bless them both, for getting things fixed!
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YESTERDAY – TWO: Calamity!
 Last night, the late Carer helped me prepare my meal of the day before he left. I finished it and served it up. Thinking something along the lines of “I’m going to enjoy this”… But I certainly didn’t. I think the Catheter blocking, or angina attacking, must have affected my taste buds… maybe. Even the faux fish sticks tasted off to me. Well in date, too. The cheese twist tasted so dry. I’d undercooked the potatoes. Tsk! The tomatoes were okay. Oh, and I put the wrong sauce in the side pot.
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After about a 6-hour kip, in fragments, I woke up in pain in my back, and angina lingered on a while longer. Then checked the Nocturnal Catheter bag to see how much urine had flowed. 700 ml might not seem like a lot, but I was just glad my bladder and the Catheter contraptions were all still working.
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I carried out the health checks and popped to the Porcelain Throne for a marathon evacuation session. The day pouch was slowly filling up, so when I got back to the computer, I began drinking more water than usual to encourage the bladder to keep flowing, slowly.
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I spied the moon out of the kitchen; I’m not good nowadays at holding the camera steady, but I resolved to take a clear shot of it; or I’ll eat my hat… 
Oh, ‘eckithump!’
The first two efforts were, at best, rather pathetic.
So, I gave up and got the kettle on to make a brew of Glengettie tea. Then shame came over me, and I tried a longer shot of the morning’s sky and moon.
Didn’t do a very good job of that either. Did I? Tsk!
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Anyone know where I put my Andy Cap, please?
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Carer arrived and gave me my medications. Put on my diabetic socks and applied cream to my neck, shoulders, and back. I was surprised when the bladder kicked off, angina and my back all at the same time. Since I’ve been on the Morphine, I’ve never had to take the permitted dosage of four in one day. I got up to three today.
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Things didn’t help when a medical delivery driver rang the intercom, and t would not let me open the door. I waited a while; I was answering an email from Jenny when the intercom rang.
I went down to see if the driver had left it in the outer foyer or ground floor lobby. I couldn’t see anything. I came back up to see if it had come up while I was on my way down. But no. Then I got a text message telling me it had been delivered safely. As I was getting ready to go down again, I got a second email saying the parcel had been delivered. I went down and checked around; no sign of it, and Jenny came down to the lobby to help, bless her. Later, when a Carer was here, the door chime rang. It seems the driver handed the box to a tenant, and he brought it up for me. Oh, when I went back up a second time, I found a letter on the floor; I still can’t find where I put it. I’ll ask the Carer to search for it in the morning.
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Gawd, the pain today, but the flow increased to the pouch until 17:00; now it’s slowed right down again. When it was running nicely, I took a snap of the urine in the jug. There was some of the cotton-woolly stuff in it again. I assume it must be part of the prostate, and this is why the Doctor stopped the Finasteride tablets, which were to reduce it, to allow things to flow more easily.
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Sunset Snaps…
Better efforts this time…
Clear sky…
Bootiful!
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Kitchen Window Shots
This morning, I think
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Inchie: Thursday 24th September 2026

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THURSDAY 24th SEPTEMBER 2026
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Another messy, sparse blog today, amongst the reasons: losing yesterday’s part-created blog, so much to do in vain hope of again catching up. Everything is taking so much longer. Correcting the cock-ups is costing so much time. But possibly the worst: my sciatica this morning was at the worst pain-wise it’s ever been. Hence, my concentration is terrible. Oh, and I’ve got the trots! (Friday) Badly. Curiously, so has Carer Andrew.
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I suspect things may be out of sync, missed, and commented wrongly. Today was a bad day; tomorrow was even worse. Pain-wise, as I belatedly start this blog.
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06:00hrs; Pains, aches, and the start of the trots. On the first visit, I hobbled hastily to the WC, squirted out a loud of stinky-phoo. Stood up to clean myself… and slipped, falling onto the WC, scattering rolls, sprays and medications off of the floor cabinet as I fell.
Getting myself up on my feet again, I saw the reason for my slip… God knows how I didn’t realise it, but I’d dropped a dollop of phoo on the floor en route to the Porcelain Throne! I  sprayed
cleaner bleach on the pile after getting what I could up using paper towels and the long picker-upper. I sprayed it and left it to soak.
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Carer Edward arrived as I turned on the computer. Diabetic socks fitted on. As usual, short sock on one leg with the Catheter on and long one on the other. Painkillers: I just took one Oxycodone-Morphine. The back was awfully painful again. We used the non-medical heat cream on the right side of his back, where the pain is much worse; he rubbed it in well. I felt the heat coming through within ten minutes. The Morphine took ages, but eventually the agony eased down to almost acceptable. I took the other 11 tablets and applied Phorpain gel to my shoulders, knees, and right hand, then Germolene to my neck.
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Red sky in the morning, Shepherd’s warning!
Taken through the balcony inner doors. I got the hoover out and used it in the main room and mini-hallway.
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Bit of a quirky mystery then.
As I decided to take another strong painkiller as angina was kicking off, I got a Morphine tablet and put it on the blog’s notepad, and shot off back to the Porcelain Throne again. When I returned, that capsule looked like it had exploded in the photo I’d taken. It hadn’t, mind you, just looked like it had. Hehe!
My shaking hands have been creating unintended weird photographs lately.
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The day began to brighten up, but it was still nippy when I opened the windows to take snaps of the views.
In this one, the sky came out almost white, but it didn’t look white to my eyes. As I said, my photographic skills are on the wane.
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I felt a smidge depressed taking this snap of my beloved tree copse. My mind floated back to my daily walks through the copse; I could even smell the inside.
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I took this photo of the Carer’s Medicinal table. Seeing the roasted and salted cashew nuts amongst the jumble of prescription medications, I saw the funny side, thinking they had added them to my medications.
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Afternoon, I took this snap of the wonderful-looking clouds above; again, my mind went back, this time to my first parachute jump with the T.A.
Then yesterday’s contrails.
Then took another picture to the left og the first one.
It looked a little darker now, just a couple of minutes after taking the other snap.
Nature of wonderful!
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Earlier, Ejaz took the laundry down to the laundrette, then went down to move it into one of the dryers. Said Carer Edward would collect it when he came in later.
When he came, he didn’t collect it; he never does. He comes up to the 12th floor, comes in and registers his arrival, then goes down to collect the laundry. He didn’t hang them up, leaving them crammed in the bag. When Carer Imran (I think) arrived, he kindly emptied the bag and hung up the clothes. Reporting that some dressing gowns were still wet. He put them on the balcony to catch any sun we may get tomorrow. 
My memory is crumbling. I’m sure I knew and recognised every Carer’s name a month ago, but not now! Same with the medications; I keep having to look on a box to find the name of the ones I used earlier. I wrote down the names of the Alzheimer’s dementias I had confirmed last Wednesday at the appointment with a psychiatrist; that didn’t happen. But can I remember where I wrote them? Nope! I looked them up: Alzheimer’s, Lewy body, & Vascular dementia. I’ve added them to my notebook WP Edit page; surely I’ll remember that? Well…
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A meal with a difference!
Boiled some small potatoes in the crock pot, with added soy sauce. Then, when nearly ready, I put a bake-at-home stone-baked 400g baguette
in the oven. Staying nearby, for fear of sitting down and falling asleep. I halved some small red and yellow tomatoes and salted them. Added the spuds, put some Teriyaki sauce on them on the tray. 
Burnt a few fingers getting the slightly overcooked bread out of the oven, sliced it lengthwise into two halves, and put lasings of no-butter butter on them. Added the blue Stilton cheese, finally a lemon curd dessert.
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I checked the prices at the Dementia Home at the top of Woodborough Road. Just to see what they are currently charging a week…
ARGH! £2,500!
I lost all interest very quickly – immediately!
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May your Foibles Ferment with Fun!
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Inchie: Wednesday 23rd Sept 26 – Psychotherapist Day… Well…

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I’d been waking up so often during the night, fretting over something going wrong or forgetting to take something to the meeting with the psychiatrist later on. At 0620, I decided to get up and start gathering and checking things for the trip. Not a good start… 
A . As I climbed cautiously out of bed, my back started giving me some grief, so I got on my feet and stood up to ease the discomfort. I may have eaten something after getting into bed last night. Because I trod on a fork on the floor. Naturally, I just laughed it off.
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When I’d finished cursing, I got a heat pad stuck on my back, and pondered over things needing doing for the visit to the hospital. I thought it a good idea to put the lists Jenny had kindly checked and printed for me into the three-wheeled walker, so I wouldn’t forget later.
Stubbing my ingrown toenail on the wheel of the trolley, I again laughed it off.  
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Carer Andrew arrived; he put some cream on my back and… remembered to put my diabetic socks on. On me, I meant. Hahaha! Medications given, got on his mobile and then off he shot without any ceremony.
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Then I went to the wet room, spending the longest I have ever spent evacuating the almost-water product.
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I did what I could, but time was running out as I waited for the Carer, and luckily the nurse came earlier than planned, and she checked the leg wound, gave them the okay, and hastily got me dressed. Bless her
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Carer Ejaz arrived and rang a taxi; we were soon on our way to the Highbury hospital meeting. The driver took the wrong route and dropped us off in the wrong place. We went inside; Ejaz asked for directions to where we wanted to go. Then we walked to the building. Fortune shone; we got to the appointment just in time. We were taken to a room. To find a disappointing fact.
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After all the hard work Jenny had done to get a four-page list of questions to be asked; typed, printed, and put into envelopes; the lady told me she and the psychiatrist ve had a meeting and decided, after getting her report, that I had two Dementias. Mixed Dementia: Frontotemporal & Vascular Dementia,  and this has now been confirmed.
All without the man or woman meeting or talking to me.
I was hoping to spread the word about my not coping, getting things done and would love to be moved into a home to finish my life without frustration. 
Well, summat like that.
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She told me I would not see her again; nothing further could be done for me. 
So, thus and therefore, my first ever meeting with a psychiatrist did not mature.
I’ve never seen a ghost either, ready to see the Grim Reaper after today, though. Hahahah!
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As we left, I felt guilty and sorry for Jenny. Guilt for not realising they had held their own meeting and decided my fate. And for asking Jenny for her help with the long list, which she did, thinking it would help, and it was unneeded! All that work she did!
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The taxi Ejaz ordered arrived. In the biggest BMW I’ve ever seen! It needed help from Ejaz and the driver, plus a plastic stool to stand on, to get into it. Amazingly, I looked around and asked Ejaz what all this was for in the back of the cab. There were mobile charging points, cup holders, a big shaded glass roof, and buttons to heat the seat if needed! No wonder the trip cost so much.
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We got home; Ejaz had to move on to his next client. I still felt terrible that Jenny’s work wasn’t used. The lady did ask if she could let the psychiatrist see the printout.
I agreed readily and said This is the lady that keeps me going; I’d be glad if he/she would read it. 
I went into a semi-depression then, and decided to tell it how it went when I phoned Jenny. I felt bad.
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Carer Andrew arrived while I was starting to update this blog. I spoke of what had taken place for a long time. As I told him the tale, I took my eyes of the screen; he was on his phone. He did show signs of sympathy. He took these two shots of the skies, as he put my torch on the balcony to catch any sun to charge it up.
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Carer Ahmed, or was it Carer Imran? Well, one of them did the late call. We managed a laugh or two. A rarity.
He took off the diabetic socks, applied some heat gel to the lower back, and issued painkillers. No Peptac, because I’d not eaten yet, not even started cooking it. 
He did the safety checks and asked if I knew the oven was on. I pointed out that I was going to use it after he’d departed, but could I remember what I was going to cook? No! He laughed as I said, “Well, I could blame my bad memory on having Frontotemporal & Vascular Dementia, both types of Alzheimer’s.” But seriously, this past week, my memory has got so much worse. And I swear that the arithmaphobia has, too.
The Carer had a look at the medical returns and pointed out that the urine in millimetres passed, that is, arrived at by adding up each jug emptied and dividing it by the number of jugs used. I had got both figures wrong. I’ll have to correct them on the next chart. Good of him to notice and inform me; he even worked out what they should have been. He checked the taps and suggested, after I recalled that it was the cheap end bits of bacon I was going to cook, that I stay there in the kitchen the whole time. He’s not been coming for a long time, but he’s picked up the things I get wrong quickly. I usually go into the front room and fall asleep until the fire alarm goes off and wakes me. (Not often, though!) This is part of why I miss Mirza, who hasn’t called for such a long time, and Ejaz, who calls far less often nowadays; they are both reliable lads. I am disappointed.
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I got the bacon in the oven, and sliced some tomatoes and salted them, after suxking the blood from the finger I cut. Then took this shot of the sun on its way down. Then got the spuds from the slow cooker and put some Teriyaki sauce on each one on the tray. Then I took this closer shot of the sunset. Nice!
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Back to the dinner making. Started by making two thick-sliced sarnie sandwiches with small-cut pickle spread on the bread. Got the spuds and tomatoes on the foil tray. (Not so much washing-up to do) Added some Sesame Soy sauce, and 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 to watch an episode of my favourite, ‘Heartbeat’, on the TV and eat the meal.
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INCHIES TALES OF WOE
This did not, of course, go exactly to plan.
I didn’t need to say that really, did I?
As I recall it, the first thing was that I’d left my torch on the balcony. So I had to get up, go out, open the balcony door, grab the torch, close the door, come back in, and almost settle into the recliner…
When I turned on the TV, I realised that I’d still got my reading glasses on. Painfully removed my colossally moribund disabled body from the recliner, stubbing my toe as I got to the computer desk, swapped glasses, returned to the recliner…
As I settled into the least painful position so as not to set my back off again, then, at long last, I bit heartily into the first bacon sarnie… And dropped it! I’m ashamed to say, I swore and cursed. As I got out of the recliner, I used a kitchen towel to clean up the spilt pile of no butter, butter, sauce, pickle and bacon from my dressing gown, legs, feet and the poor, now dingy carpet.
Got settled again, and ate the meal and still found it satisfactory under the delayed eating process.
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Inchie: Tuesday 22nd September 2026

/ Inchie / 3 Comments

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Due to my superbly competent, reliable and assured ability to make repeatedly on a multiple-times-a-day basis; of cocking-up, forget, and make arithmetic errors multiple times a day, I deleted the entire blog three-quarters of the way through the process.
Did I want to cry? Did I use foul language in self-lambasting myself? Well, not at first… 
The instant I found that I dished the notes of the day, thinking that I didn’t need them, now, and of course, now needing them… these two Whoopsiedangleplops may well have caused another stroke or heart attack. 
Self-loathing, abhorrence, aversion and hatred showed their disgust, and repeated self-cursing did not help.
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Without my notes to refer to, I sometimes left me guessing why I took only a few photos.
Reasons, news and points of interest were lost.
Of course I’m doing this Wednesday morning. Making recollections even dimmer and scarcer. Grumph!
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A food order arrived…
See how I worked that out?
Large jar of pickles, but why
did I take this snap?
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Morning views.
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Ah, I remember this… Dear Jenny, my Angel, sent me a draft of everything I need to advise the shrink about tomorrow (now today).
She had amended some things for me and was waiting for my reply to the suggested changes.
I emailed them back, accepting all her ideas; Jenny did a grand job on them and said hubby Frank would bring them up for me. This proves the value of all the help and advice Jenny & Frank give me. Bless them.
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Unbeknownst to me, the fire alarm had gone off; I can’t hear it without my hearing aids, and they are both waiting to be booked in for repair. 
Frank arrived and told me about the fire alarm, so I took these snaps above… 
Poor Frank had to walk up six flights of concrete fire escape stairs to get to me. The lifts self-disable when a fire alarm goes off. I was so appreciative of his help, but felt a smidge of guilt.
I felt genuinely heartwarmed when Frank handed me a packet of wafers and two envelopes containing the list of the four lists of things I have to take to the Psychologist meeting, from Jenny.
So kind and thoughtful; she had made two copies, one envelope for the Doctor, whatever he is, and one for me, printed in larger fonts, so I could follow as the man/woman asks about each needed piece of information. She knew, remembered the cataract and hearing aid loss situation. ❤️
Perfect, great idea, lovely, and kind idea.
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The last snap of the few taken.
About 23:00 hrs; the dailymeal..
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Inchie: Monday 21st September 2026

/ Inchie / 1 Comment

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Two terrible snaps taken in the early hours
From the kitchenette window
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07:15hrs: After another awful night of disturbed sleep, I slowly started to move and feel out the pains in the body.
Carer Andrew came in, asking what painkillers I needed. I was still confused, half asleep and thought the back pain, shoulders, angina & toothache were well calmed, during which he asked me twice again. Then I opted for one codeine & two paracetamol. He slapped on some back gel, and I convinced him to put the diabetic socks on for me. The slippers he forgot about. But progress was made. I asked him to remind the boss about the upcoming psychiatrist appointment & me needing a Carer to go with me. Of course they will no doubt leave before the meeting is over, just like the last two I went to. To get to their next client. If it is not Wjaz or Mizra who goes, there is no point; they are the only two who understand my problems and can answer questions about any changes from the Doctor, dentist, neurologist, audiologist, or EENT.
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When the Carer shot off, taking the rubbish bags with him, I limped to the wet room to check that the floods had not come back in there.
It was all clear!
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I went to safety-check that the kitchen taps and cooker were both safe and had no leaks or had been left on.
This shot was taken to the left of the window.
The bottom one is to the right. I did take a centre photograph, but it disappeared into the ether from the SD card. Or I did summat wrong.
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I got the computer on to finish off Sunday’s blog. It was hard going, with this new £850 plus installation computer. It has never worked right since I bought it, and the engineer refuses to come back to look at it. Gullible Gerry, eh? 
Hornwoggled again!
Depressed? Me?
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At long last, after weeks of trying to find the time, I got around to reading the comments! A lot of them!
At last, I’ve got caught up! Sorry it took me ages.
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Carer Ejaz called. He is going to get me a list of medications that the EENT and psychologist need for the meetings. A good lad.
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I then spent four hours making up the required details needed for the meetings, during which I lost them all!
Had to start over again. No idea what I did wrong.
Boulderdash, Cragnangles & Boild Turnips!
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My Angel Jenny said I could email her the list, and she could check it and let me know anything I may have missed or got wrong; I can change them, and Jenny will then print it out for me to take with me to the EENT and psychologist appointments. Bless her ❤️
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So it, angina has just kicked off; can’t win them all!
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Almost bedtime now.
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Inchie: Sat/Sun 19-20th September 2026

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Lymph Water leaking from the leg
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I went to bed early and was so tired, but around midnight,
you wouldn’t believe what came on.

The Catheter blocked; agony. Took an Ezetimibe and Codeine straight away. Then angina and my back played up, as lymph water flowed again from both leg wounds. Just to add a little variety to the proceedings, cramps and toothache kicked off. 
 I didn’t call the nurses at that time of day, not wanting to be sent to the hospital by taxi again. I couldn’t dress myself anyway. The tablets did little to ease the pain, and I kept doing things to take my mind off them a little.
By 03:30, I could take no more and rang the nurses. They were very busy and told me to ring 111, or I could call back after 08:00hrs.
Then, I’m not joking; between 0330 and 0400hrs, I was stuck on the toilet. I could not get out. Every time I started to clean up the blood and poo, I needed to go again… 8 times! I hobbled back into the front room to take more medications, and the phone rang. A chap said he’d rung four times; staff were outside and could not get in. Of course I was incarcerated in the wet room and could not hear. He checked my name, DOB & address, and realised it was not my place they were at! A male nurse is on his way.
I was thoroughly confused.
Minutes later, the intercom rang. I pressed the open button, and it went dead!
I fumbled about to get a dressing gown on, no footwear, of course, to get down to admit him, and got the walking frame ready to use as the doorbell chimed and he came in. Now for some Grrreat News!

The chap looked all worn out; he was just about to go home when he got the message. He got me on the bed, asked a few questions, and told me he was going to try to force the urine in the bladder to move. He thought my rear-end escapades (constipation) may have had an effect on my bladder. A short, sharp twang of pain from the blow-bubble thing, and 15 seconds later the urine pouch had filled to the maximum! Wonderful relief!
The other pains remained, even now, but they are piffle compared to the flow-back pains. The tired-out medical genius had saved the day. 👍🏻 I was so happy, I sent a thank-you email to the surgery and nurses for their help, which I got when I took a tumble getting into the Doctor’s surgery. and for this saviour genius who called at 04:30hrs, freed me from worrying about going into the hospital Stalag, and got the Catheter working again.
Thank you all!

 Then Edward arrived; he’s so good at ignoring me. Skilled at changing the subject when I ask him for something. He knows how to confuse me, easily. I was telling him he had failed to put my diabetic socks on for two days; I glanced at him, and he was on his mobile. Still, it perked him up a bit; he made me a mug of tea and got my socks on. Applying the Phorpain, I saw the lymph water had stopped leaking! YeeHAA!
 

But I was, and still am, in a better mood after being saved from a trip to the torture chamber… I mean, hospital. 🚑

Then, the Sunday Morning Floods!
Lucky? Me? I haven’t had time to read the WP Reader or reply to WP comments in days. Medical appointments. Falls. Lights went out, District nurses, Doctor’s appointment where the Carer did not show up. A fortune on taxis. Agony from the backache, shoulders, Coccyx, and leg wounds. Dropping, losing and walking into things… three new medical appointments came in, two next week, and one to add to the one already there for the week after. One worryingly with a psychiatrist next week… I’ll check that on the letter; Sod-it! I can’t find the letter with the details of times and how to get there! It might be in an email; I’ll check. Nope, not there. I’ll look at text messages… to find the mobile phone first. I’ll have to find the mobile first. I’ll search again later.

Well, the lowest ever overall.
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In the wet room, I found that it was flooded, too!
As I was about to get it tested and, if need be, call the NCC Maintenance, the door chime rang out, and Carer Andrew came in. He gave me a hand, trying to do anything that would involve me bending down, bless him.
I asked Andrew to take the wet rugs out first. Which he did. I got the shower going, which had been used only once in four weeks, as the Carers do not have time to help me shower. Occasionally, one will help me have a stand-up wash and clean areas I cannot reach. Lower legs and back mainly. I wondered if this lack of use may have contributed to the drain failure?
Pleasingly, when the shower was turned on, the drain gurgled and worked. I hosed the bits and pieces of dropped bandages, protection-pant fluff, and even noticed a couple of garden peas go down the drain.
Don’t ask. Hahaha!

I tried to get as much down the drain as possible with the cheap long-stick sponge. Later went to check that I’d got rid of the water, as only a few specks came through the kitchen towel I put down.
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Andrew issued the medications, pain-gelled the shoulders, neck and back. He asked if I needed the diabetic socks on; I said yes, as I went back to the wet room to make sure the drain was still working. All looked okay. But we both forgot about putting the socks on.
A proper pair of clots!
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I got the computer on to try and get the out-of-date bits I’d started going again. But my new £850 computer played up, as per usual.
I lost several hours trying to get the new drive attached to the new computer, but the installer wouldn’t work, to no avail. So, yet again, I had to move things into a new file and delete them from the old file to save memory.
Everything I do is taking me so much longer with this new computer! Adding the extra medical things I need, I can see I’ll have to give up blogging soon. I do love it, though; well, I used to. Since the new Carers started, the problems I can’t solve keep increasing. British Gas, still not solved. Six promised arrangements were made for an engineer to call to look at the meter; none arrived. Carer Ejaz has been in control of sorting this out, and has done his best. But he calls far less frequently nowadays. Which is doing me no good, frustration-wise.
Now the medical needs are increasing. It’s going to need more in the near future (starting the week after next).
The cataract lasering (EENT-QMC) is taking place next Tuesday or Wednesday. From last time, I know this will need extra care until my vision returns. Various drops to be put in the eye, four times a day. Both Lymphohrea wounds will need the socks on in the morning and off at night. (But this is not happening, so the problems with them will continue for longer, needing more attention).
The psychiatrist’s monthly meetings start next week as well, adding time, Carer, and taxi costs.
We still haven’tmade an appointment at the Audio Clinic to have both hearing aids mended. Without them, it is hard for me to make and receive phone calls. The neurologist appointment has been cancelled again.
Am I moaning or just mentioning?
My chances of getting into a home are minimal, hopeless, to impossible. But I believe this move is my only hope of retaining my sanity and getting a little life back as I await the Grim Reaper’s attention. Yes, it will be more costly… but not when you realise how much I’m paying for the Carers. I could solve my known-but-can’t-do-anything-about-it problems with ordering food online. I wouldn’t need to order food online. Maybe they will offer a lift to a supermarket for occupants? Give lifts to hospital appointments? That will save me costly taxis to the Dentist, opticians, doctors, neurologist, audiologist, urology departments, outpatients, cardiac, psychiatrist, A&E; all currently needing Carer & taxi costs.
I was given this advice about my upcoming first meeting with a psychiatrist: Preparing for your first NHS psychiatric assessment (often called an appraisal or evaluation) involves gathering your medical history and current symptoms so the Doctor can understand how best to support you (PDP).
What to Prepare Before the Appointment
1) List your symptoms: Write down what you have been feeling, when the issues started, and how they affect your daily life, work, or relationships.
2) Gather medication details: Make a clear list of all current and past medications, doses, and any herbal supplements or vitamins you take.
3) Note your history: Write down any past mental health diagnoses, treatments, therapy experiences, or significant life events, history and definitely stresses.
4) Prepare questions: Jot down anything you want to ask about potential diagnoses, treatment paths, or available support services.
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Am I moaning or just mentioning?
Does it matter?
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This may take me too long; with the appointment in four days and busy days, I won’t have the time.
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Home Sweet Home.
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Now, tonight, the Catheter pouch isn’t filling up!
Well, I mean tomorrow morning, 01:20hrs
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Inchie Today: No Carer arrived for Escort to Surgery Visit

/ Inchie / 9 Comments

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Mon to Wed 16th SEPTEMBER 2026
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I stirred back into mock life, to be greeted by the acidic upsurge from the innards. So, I knew easily that I’d had seizures during the night. But didn’t fret; that’s not unusual, as Tom Jones sang. What happened next was that I awaited the foul taste in my mouth and nasal throat to clear. Seconds later, a bubbling escapage of wind from the rear end literally forced me into agony mode, as the wet wind began to move, bubblingly, of its own accord. I’d have no choice but to get out of bed; no time for any balancing exercises. Just grabbed a stick and hobbled in a painful wobble to get to the toilet in time… I’ve been so lucky these last few days, somehow avoiding an embarrassing leakage situation.  
Not today, though. I’ll not go into detail, other than to say it took yonks to get the wetroom furniture, myself and the stinking mess on the floor cleaned up.
There was a little surprise for me when I eventually got back to the bed. On the decrepit, shuddering computer chair was a purple bed throw. Bearing in mind my urgency in having to get to the toilet, how, why did I go the opposite way to throw the throw where I threw it? I’m aware this shouldn’t have bothered me, but for an unknown reason, it bugged me. Thought I’d mention it.
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Asda food arrived. Not a lot. I noticed I’d purchased three jars of Marmite and already had half of a jar of Marmite on the counter. I could do with some help… the neurologist was keenly uninterested. The social worker showed no interest, and the Doctor didn’t answer when I explained my situation with numbers and food-ordering excesses. Ah, that might come up at the urgent meeting she asked me to book, which I did five weeks ago. I’m going to it next Tuesday, no… Wednesday. I think she mentioned that the results of the mental tests from Haywood House needed to be talked over.
I’m waffling awfully well this evening.
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Mostly, or muchly, guesswork from here on. May be out of order, as indeed my body and mind were for three days and still are. Lack of balance, hospital, Doctors, District nurses. Lymphoedema in both legs; now leaking lymph-water. Struggling to walk, massive headaches of unknown origin, and two sleepless danged nights. My back pain got even worse. I didn’t think this was possible, but they did. Sitting and standing up are the worst bits.
Then the Carer’s failure to supply and escort me again on Wednesday to the Doctors. That put the cap on it all. More later, if I don’t forget.
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A little low here
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Food…
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Lowest ever start to any week!
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Brekkers… to go out of date
Afternoon nibbles
Spuds in crockpot; to use when me and the Carer get back from the Doctor’s…
But, of course, he didn’t arrive…
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Getting to surgery was the main inent,
Failure and bad luck; both allicient…
A 6-week wait for this appointment,
No communication, nowt accordant,
Waiting for the Carer Escort…
Needed to get me dressed,
Socks, shoes on; he never arrived,
No Care came, can’t apprehend…
I awaited arrival; it never happened,
I was rescued by Frank and Jenny…
Frank called, shoes on & dressed me,
Whilst Angel Jenny called me a taxi,
Frank got me in the lift, & frankly…
To the taxi we had to hurry,
I soon arrived at the Doc’s surgery,
Going into the building hurriedly,
I tumbled, gaining another injury,
Falling over my walker-trolley…
My language turned diderpecatingly,
Turning to sort of self-derogatory,
Rescued by patients, expediently,
Staff moved me into another area,
Their help? Like a breath of fresh air,
They sat me in a higher-seated chair,
Went into a seizure then and there,
Woke up, scratching my buccula,
Where was I? Ah, the Doctor…
Couldn’t have woken me up gentler,
To her office, lacking much acumen,
Feeling in need of an adaptogen,
Mixing reality of the flowing Aufgaben,
Forget most that she said, as it was spoken,
Comprehending? I turned abecedarian,
She suddenly said, here comes your Carer,
Not a word to me or me or the Doctor,
My concentration got worse, even iffier,
Farewells; we left the surgery minutes later,
Taxied home, got home minutes after,
A day of perplexity, complexity, ill-fated…
… adversity, calamity, & misadventure,
Carer shot off to his next customer,
Jenny rang me moments later…
Worried at my late return, bless her,
So much, she’d rang the hospital,
Then my Carers. My Guardian Angel, 
Asked why there was no escorting Carer,
Was informed that nobody had told her,
Asked for a Carer to get me from the Doctor,
This explains his late arrival,
These details may be anachronistical,
A mistake, error, fib? No accusing…
A day to do without, all the bumfuzzling,
I’m left in a state so confusing,
Bruised, battered & back-aching,
Blood pressure ever decreasing,
Pride, confidence dwindling…
Being forgotten again; appalling,
But I avoided hospitalisationing,
That’s next week, and exciting!
I’ve an appointment for lasering…
on the cataract, well I’m hoping…
Will the Carer again go missing?
Hope that I’m not overcomplaining,
My head bemused, my body aching,
No light in the tunnel, only darkening,
No signs of good luck approaching,
Hopes of going in a home helping,
Fading; time for relinquishing…
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At least I did make a half-decent meal. Although I did find a little mould on the non-better buttered bread. Lovely mushroom pâté. Tasteless Spanish tomatoes. I undercooked potatoes again (Tsk!)And, true to my decent droppages increasing, I dropped the pot of lemon cheesecake, and it burst open… not as bad as it might have been; it landed in the waste bin, saving a Hell of a mess to clean up on the carpet. Am I in line for some good luck? What a stupid thing to say!
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Low again


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TTFN
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OUT of MEMORY

Inchie: 7th-8th & 9th September 2026

/ Inchie / 11 Comments

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MONDAY 7th SEPTEMBER 2026
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Terrible morning first thing; the pains from the back, belly, and legs joined with the leg wounds and brought forth mega-pains. Hard to take.
Carer Ejaz put some of the non-medical heating cream on them and did a good job too. 20 minutes later, the back and belly pains eased off a smidgeon.
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In the afternoon, things took a nasty turn. The mobile rang; it was a food delivery from Asda. Obviously a new driver, and he didn’t know how to get in. I tried telling him how, but the connection was its usual crappy self. I had no choice but to go down to let him in. I got four missed calls on my way down in the lift, and the back pain kicked off big time… and got even worse.
We got up to the flat, and he put the food in bags on the floor. All done, I had to keep bending and stretching to get the fodder put away; the pain doubled. Bad, now! I managed to take a few snaps while I put the food away.
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Today’s snaps
Med Morning, Shepherd’s Warning
A colourful sight of the Catheter contraption.
This was under the contraption, and it was puzzling. I put these paper towels under the pouch. Carer Edward, after cleaning up the areas, put a plaster on the larger one. It’s hanging off now, three hours later. But no more leaks. The bigger one is stinging a bit, but all the smaller ones seem dormant, with no blood escaping.
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Dentist visit tomorrow. Don’t know who will be escorting me yet, Ejaz or Mirza, I hope. Might be a rush, cause I rely on Carers to get me clothed and on time, and to take the things I need with me. Must get up early and get a wash & shave; can’t get shoes, socks or trews on.
It is more painful than ever with this unknown trapped nerve or Sciatica, giving me grief.
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Afternoon sky shot from the kitchenette.
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The day’s visit to the Porcelain Throne again revealed garden peas in the mix; this only happens with the fresh ones, not the canned ones. Might have to stick with the tinned ones in future.
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The flipping fracas with the food delivery then arrived.
Top shelf arrivals.
Vegetable chilli-con-carne, Surimi fish stick; having these tonight. Fancy mushrooms in olive oil.
More treats!
I’ll not mention the struggle and agony again.
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Now I was in real pain. I took a Codeine, and fortunately, in the order I’d bought, there were some Heat Pads for my back and shoulders. I’ll get the Carer to get a couple stuck on after he reads the instructions I cannot read later.
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I thought I’d get some tomatoes sliced, ready to go with the meal later on…Oh, Dearie me!
Flipping heck! One had seemingly dehydrated altogether. Another had gone soft, with an unknown source of fungal growth on it? Of the two other tomatoes I removed, one squashed in my hand. The surviving one, although not as firm as I would have liked, might get eaten. I’ll see how brave I feel.
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Woke up to the chronically painful back pain.
I’ll ask the Carer to put one of the new pain pads on when he arrives. The £850 + installation computer has never worked properly; the computer kicked off early in its failed attempts to find my files. Nothing new there then. I found the leg was bleeding in a couple of areas, one underneath the Catheter pouch again. The right leg ankles were given attention to the desires of my Lymphorrhea. The mystery wounds looked a lot better, though. The back on my right side was as bad as it was when I woke up with it five weeks ago, and luckily when I called the Doctor to make an appointment, I was given the first one available – that is booked for Wednesday, September 16th next week. So glad I got an early one. The NHS has gone to pot.
Did what I could, and took this snap of the morning view from the kitchen. And the Carer arrived. He didn’t see the bloodied tissues in the waste bin, or notice the state of my legs at first. I pointed them out to him and asked him to attach a pain pad to the worst area. Did it in no time. (It fell off an hour later when I  went to the toilet). I managed to get it back on and pulled up my PPs as far as they would go to help keep it on a bit longer. Carer then cleaned up the mystery welts.
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Along came the Food delivery that I’d ordered for next Tuesday… well, I thought I had. YES! I did it again!
Not a lot of fresh food ordered for today, but I did get some of the fresh podded peas that I love so much… and pass them whole each morning. I went heavy on spring water and soda water to make up for it. So many, they filled the edge of the hallway almost completely. I won’t get caught short of spring water again if the hot weather returns. All the soda water was delivered in single unpacked bottles. Those bottles are now residing, standing on the carpet in the hallway nook near the front door. Better get a wash & shave, do my teggies, and get ready to go to the Dentist.
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Had a good wash, shave, teggies done. Managed to get the Protection pants on; not without some extra pain.
I even got a Kaghoul on, but I’ll not be trying that again without help. I got the dizzies, bag pulled, hit my wounds on my leg against the trolley, and felt awful. I even considered cancelling the dentist trip for a while. I felt truly shook up. New Motto for self: Never ever again try to get a nightgown or Kagoule over my head to wear,  without Carer help!
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Carer Ejaz arrived in a rush and checked what the appointment time was. Then he put my shoes on mt feet. While doing this, I noticed how red the urine was in the pouch. It had a lot of blood in it as I emptied the pouch, preparing for the trip to the Dentist.
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Quiet a gang of my fellow Windwood Heightonians at the bus stop when we arrived, which grew to 11 or so when the bus arrived five minutes later. We battled for a seat with room for a walker or trolley. We old fogeys, you know. I lost; Ejaz stood in the luggage area watching me hold the semi-collapsed three-wheeled walker. Each time the bus turned or went over speed bumps, Ejaz held onto the trolley to lessen the pain in my back. Not many would do that, or appreciate that it was happening. But Ejaz is a cut above as a Carer. Thanks, mate 😇👍🏻  
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A painful getting on, travelling and getting off of the bus, but we were soon alighting on Mansfield Road, in Sherwood. We crossed the Pelican lights to the other side to get nearer the Dentist’s. As we walked up the hill, we noticed two passengers who carried on in the bus as we got off of it. They told Ejaz that the 40 bus no longer goes to the City Hospital. It turns left and back around a traffic island, and starts the return journey to town. They had dropped off outside the Dentist’s. Ejaz explained this to me and said next time, we must stay on the bus, and it would save us some time and walking. See how he cares for me? Great lad. Shame he doesn’t call so often.
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My hearing was worse this morning, and the back pain affected my concentration. Mountaineered up the outside steps to get into the surgery, with relative ease, thanks to Ejaz’s help. Signed in, waited a short while, and was called into the surgery. Ejaz had to repeat what the Dentist lady said to me each time we fau-communicated.
Amazing, but testing each tooth showed only one that was not good? “Terribly infected”, Ejaz repeated to me.
I was given choices! “I can prescribe antibiotics, but this will not guarantee the pain will not return. Or, I can book you in for an extraction”. I asked her how much this extraction would cost – I didn’t hear her reply, but I did get the nod from Ejaz, the look that told me it would cost a lot. Then I asked for antibiotics. Then she asked Ejaz to leave the room while they did the X-raying of the suspected tooth. This time, using a simpler system, new to me. No plate setup or shields. A plastic thing, whatever it was, in the mouth, making sure the bit of metal was where she wanted it, and a strict command that I bite on and hold it in position. All done in seconds.
As Ejaz returned, I actually remembered to ask for a prescription for some more Duraphat toothpaste. She made a prescription for that and the antibiotics, and handed them to Ejaz.
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I thanked her and went to the receptionists to pay the bill. Only £25 and a bit. Ejaz got me and the trolley down the steps, and walked up to the chemists to fill the prescriptions. I waited near the bus stop and felt so glad I’d now repaired and remembered to take the Kodak Tim 2 camera with me, and made use of it while waiting for Ejaz to return.
I noticed he was returning to me; well, he didn’t – he had had to nip back into the Dentist’s; something on the prescription needed confirming, I assumed. He exited and went back up the road to the pharmacist.
Returning as I took this last snap of Mansfield Road, Sherwood, outside the Dentist’s surgery. The bus arrived minutes later, and was were soon back at the Winwood Heights complex.
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Ejaz was running late now. We got in the flat, and Ejaz answered my chirping mobile phone. It was someone from the EENT, offering me an appointment for cataract lasering. I instantly went into bliss mode- at last! Damnations! I lost the connection when I looked at the calendar to see if the date clashed with another. Ejaz did not have time to sort it out. He told me not to delete anything on the phone, and he’ll sort it out later.
He was thanked profusely as he shot off.
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I got a bit of a shock when I went to empty the Catheter.
I must ring Deana to ask if she had asked Matron Jacky to take a look & advise me. No doubt it will involve me going to the QMC again. £30 taxi fare, and being treated like an unwanted wart on one’s penis.
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A ready meal of battered chicken, rice & veg, two cheese rolls – these would soak up the sweet & sour and Gung-Po sauces. They were delicious!
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I have a sneaky feeling that, possibly, perhaps I should not have had the sweet & sour meal that I enjoyed so much last night. I was lucky that I managed to get to the WC in time. Another close call.
And a long session of lengthy squirts after another. Cleaning myself, and a second splodgy session started!
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My back seemed to be a little less painful for once. But the leg wounds were a lot worse. Can’t win em all!
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I got on the computer to update last night’s episode. Had to hasten back to the WC at all available speed. Unfortunately, I had an accident as I rushed into the room. I reopened the wound on the right leg against the raised metal seat leg. Then, having had a little more luck, I coped with another Trotsky Terence Torrent. Cleaned things & myself up, and cleansed and applied a plaster to the wound. 
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The District nurse arrived to take a look at the leg wounds. I showed her the photo of the red blood from yesterday. She thought the same thing as I did, amazingly. The walking and bus trips yesterday must have pulled the tube, causing the bleeding in the bladder. It was an okay colour this morning. She thought the cotton-wool-looking bits in the bag indicated both of our trauma guesses.
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I soon got myself tucked into making corrections I’d made on one of the Word files. I spent hours on it but failed to sort them all. Had another bash at them later.
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The leg was giving me some bother, even when seated. I took a break and made a pot of noodles, adding some extra yeast, light soy sauce, & dipped some potato in it.
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Then, sat down in the £300 second-hand shop-purchased in 1968 recliner. Which is welt-causing, uncomfortable, not working, itch-inducing, and crumb-containing. Ate the noodles and fell asleep, having a few seizures to break the peace for over two hours. Then had to get up, painfully, to get to the Throne in time again! A follow-through as I was beginning to stand avoided a lot of mess that would have needed to be cleaned up this time.
I moved into the kitchenette and took these photographs of the rather dull sky on view to the left. Dropped the kettle; it’s alright; it still works. Then took a second shot to the right. Then moved the large waste bag into the other room to empty the small ones into it. Dropped it; more cleaning up! My pleasure, of course.
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Ejaz tried to reach the EENT about the missed call when they offered me an appointment. But it took so long to get through that he gave up and said he’d try another day.
The chances of an appointment still being available are about zero by now.
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Went to check on the potatoes and peas cooking.
And the lightbulb blew.
Luckily, the new Carer is about 7ft tall, and he got the new lightbulb in for me.
He also gave me the wrong dosage of Warfarin, well, I think he did. What was on the printed list was only half a tablet different. It was far too late for me to check with the surgery. He thought I’d used an old, incorrect list and that the one on his mobile was correct. I imagine half a tablet difference wouldn’t be dangerous.
I’ll try to remember to check tomorrow.
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