Inchie: Tuesday 28th April 2026 = Computer Assessed, Not Good!

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Worra Night!
After eating the meal of the day and really enjoying it, washing the pots and visiting the Porcelain Throne, I unfortunately suffered an Accifauxpa and didn’t get there in time. But it could have been worse; it has been many times this year, and it only took me about 15 minutes to clean things up.
I decided sleep was next in line for my attention. I seemed to have fallen asleep quickly… I felt I had when waking at 02:00hrs, again in desperate need of the Porcelain Throne. Not wanting to risk another accident, I fumbled my way out of the bed and hobbled-hastily to the wet room.
A darned close call, I only just made it. Where all the evacuating little, short dollops kept coming from, I don’t know. I cast my mind back as the plop-plops kept coming. I only ate my favourite nosh, cheesy baked potato. I can’t recall such a reaction to these before. To be on the safe side, I got down in the £300 second-hand shop bought, c1966. moth-eaten, bedraggled, grotty, cringingly beige-coloured, much-dilapidated, crumb-containing from my nocturnal nibblings, Catheter tube trapping, bug-ridden, itch-inspiring, not working recliner. To enable a swifter reply in case I need to go again. 
0315:hrs, and I was off again to the Porcelain Throne. I got there more swiftly this time. No accidents.
When I got back to the recliner, I almost felt another follow-through trying to make its way down. I could not get to sleep again now. I sort of just waited for the next evacuation warning to arrive. It came at 06:00hrs. A lot less passed this time. Thankfully, I got there in plenty of time. I pondered, I do that sometimes, you know. Was the cheese in the baked potatoes out of date?
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The day brought forth some challenges, not of the rear-end evacuation type. Attilla the Carer, Rachid did the first two calls, so my low mood was set. The feet and toes seem to adapt much more easily at first. Three toe-stubbings in the first hour put an end to that bit of pleasure. I partially opened the balcony curtains, and when the sun comes out, I have to close them. Bright sun doesn’t suit Cataract Katie or Glaucoma Gladys. This snap came out as it looked. A medical delivery arrived. Concentration was bad when I got on the computer. But I reckon it was less bothersome than yesterday morning. 
I did my best to get the Monday blog finished before the computer man arrives. I pressed on, making mistake after mistake, and I don’t know how long it took, but I got it sent off. Fearing that many cock-ups will be in the finished blog.

I took another shot through the balcony windows, dead excited about this blog, innit? Hahaha!

Carer Rashid did the next call. Nothing much happened; if he can ignore me, I can ignore him. Haha!
After he’d not too soon for me, gone, I got the kettle on.
And the intercom sounded. I was overjoyed!

The Computer Man Cameth
Less than a minute later, Carer Mizra came in behind the computer genius Andy. Who spent a long time asking questions and assessing the state of the computer for me. Mirza conducted the communications. After much effort from Andy, trying to install the two-terabyte external hard drive in the computer. At least I think it was a two-terabyte-sized one. The old computer would not let him transfer anything from the other drive to save space,
Mizra ran out of time, so no time for me to have an assisted shower or to get the laundry done again.

Andy ended up asking if I wanted to use this machine as it is, with slightly more memory, but not a lot, or do you want me to source a suitable used one with Asif, that will cope with CorelDraw, which has very little space left to do much. I said I’d go with his recommendation. The goal was to get a new computer. Fair enough for me. So, be it. Bank Balance considerations, of course. Andy will report the needs back to Asif. Closed the computer down.

As Andy left, I realised that the Catheter pouch was overdue for emptying. So, I emptied it. Haha!

I’m feeling a smidge more hopeful now that Andy’s been and sorted this computer out, and I agree with his decision that a new (second-hand, refurbished) machine would be the best option for me.

The legs, feet, and toes were all looking better when Ejaz took these snaps, which I put together, but not very well. Looks like a mangle of limbs, the way I did this, manipulating. Hehe!

Frank arrived with some treats that Jenny, my angel, had sent for me. I gave him a small box of stuff for the Charity or handing out. Had a little outing with Frank, a lovely couple of neighbours who I am very proud to have as Guardians & friends. Bless them both. So understanding and helpful. X I’d made a meal earlier, I’ll not eat all of it, after the feast from Jenny.


The computer went down, died!
The landline stopped working!
The TV stopped working!
My heart and interest in living went into hold mode. My first actions, apart from panicking, were to try to think about what I was doing or did wrong that caused the catastrophe in the first place. Or had Andy missed something earlier? The chances were that it was my error, a mistake, or that I accidentally caught a dangerous, fatal combination of keys. As I have one in the past. Causing all sorts of problems due to the dying neurotransmitters.
They warned me there was no treatment, saying they cannot mend damaged nerve ends, and it will slowly get worse. They were right.
I thought I’d give it some time before trying to restart the computer, in case it was doing something all technical in the background.
I picked up the landline thingy, put it down, and it made a tone. The mystery deepened.
I had no idea for certain of what I did with the TV to get it back on. Turned it on a few times, and it turned itself off. Got it to stay on, displaying a No. Connected sign. Then pressed the TV button on the remote control, and the TV closed down again. I pointed the remote at the scary, threatening Virgin box, and the red light turned yellow. Then tried again to start the TV, and dropped the control thingy. Got the picker-upper and retrieved it, to see that the TV had come on?
I prayed that getting the computer back would be as easy as that. (It wasn’t and didn’t!) 
In the past, when launching the computer, I’d get a ‘DoS’ message telling me to press ESC for details. This would bring up a dreaded blue screen. Press Enter for options. Another blue screen says to press F1 to start the computer. This has happened each time I’ve opened it for about 3 years or more now. 
But not now… The black screen opens, but pressing ESC does nothing. Also, I could not turn off the computer at the button, had to switch the power off. I kept repeating this pattern, so many times and for so long. Not knowing what else I could try. Each go was met with failure.

No sleep tonight. Mind on the verge of exploding. self-pity, futility, anger… Mostly, the sour, blood-draining effects of Deep, Dark, Dank, Depression Darius.
And to think, I had gone up into a high a few hours ago when the computer was sorted…
That didn’t last long, did it?

Heartlessly, I put the meal in the microwave. It looked okay, smelled okay, but after feartily enjoying Jenny’s treats, combined with the Computer problems, I just couldn’t eat more than a few spoonfuls. I couldn’t get to sleep either. I scribbled down the times I got up to try to restart the computer. 

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Inchie Today: Monday 27th April 2026

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0625hrs: I leapt out of the bed, somersaulted over the aged, grotty-looking, c1966-made, charity-shop-bought, horribly beige-coloured, £300, Harold’s Haemorrhoid-testing, non-operational, acne-giving, virus-breeding, rickety, easy-to-fall-out-of recliner. Landing and started doing some shadow boxing. A 100 press-ups, and got the weights out, 150 double curls, and burst into song, ‘I’ve got the Whole World in My Hands…’ Into the balcony, threw open the windows and burst forth with a few minutes of Tarzan wailing. I suppose you have doubts about the validity & truth of the above? Very wise!
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I took off the Catheter night bag and hobbled into the kitchen to do the pots and safety checks. Then the bins, and off to the wetroom initially for a poop. Trotsky is in charge this time. Messy! I decided to get a stand-up wash, teggies, shave, etc., while I was there. It all went fairly well, just one bad cut shaving.
Got the kettle on and opened the window to take this shot of the morning sky. Realising how much easier the swollen right leg & foot were today. Nice! I brewed the tea and got on the computer. Slowly, my earlier feeling of being overall in a better place faded. When the Carer called, it was Rachid.
I had another of those long active seizures after I’d got rid of the Carer. Don’t really know how long or what I had been up to. But I noticed the Hoover had been moved, and the mug of cold tea had been knocked or dropped onto the floor. It took me an age to recover from this seizure. I felt almost groggy.

The INR agency worker came to take the blood for the DVT Warfarin clinic testing. The result came back at about 17:50 hours: Mon 2, every other day, 1½.

I had long periods of feeling out-of-it, almost like being drunk. Confusion lasted all day.
And as the late afternoon, tea-time came, I honestly was an utter mental wreck.  
The following might be out of sync again, because in the morning, when I read my memory notes, well, it looked nothing like my handwriting, and my memory was only prompted by some of the photographs I’d taken.
I can remember this one. I had two giant potatoes left and fancied my hand at making some of my beloved cheesy potatoes. I couldn’t decide which of the spuds to use, as they both came well battered about.
At least I could tell when I took this snap, of the battery calendar clock.
These shots of the clouds were a pareidolia’s delight.

The INR blood was taken.

I got a phone call that I could not hear any of the words. The Carer was here, so I asked him to take the call. He did, but said not a word to me; he just started looking around the Carer’s desk and on the floor. Then shot off out of the flat.
Returning to sit down and get back on his mobile. 
I never found who or why they called me. Despite asking the Carer. Mysteriousnesses?

I got the potato into the oven and got on with the blogging. It was hard work, as per usual, with snaffles and Concentration Konrad not helping in the slightest. Carer style.
Taking this photo of the sky was when the ultra-drunken feeling and sensation deepened, along with genuine confusion.

The joy of seeing Caring Carer Ejaz make his only call of the day really perked me up. I felt much more like myself. Someone who cares, speaks, doesn’t grunt and ignores me when I say or ask for anything to be done or whatever. He did a full-body check, asked how the legs felt, and asked if I wanted a brew and some bikkies. Phorpain Gelled my painful Shaling Shoulder Shirely, rubbing it in until it was fully absorbed. Much better reaction when they spend a minute rubbing the gel in. 👍🏻
The hard work chap called. Still no body checking, not that I needed it after Ejaz had done it for me. I put the oven on to cook the large spud.

I hastened to fetch the camera from the junk room to take this amazing shot of the evening sky. Another pareidolia’s delight.

I got the spud out of the oven and got so annoyed when I had a feast of dropping stuff, spilling things, and losing my grip on things. Plus, difficulty in using the implements needed to make the meal. Unbelievable problem! What a mess I’d made in the kitchen. It was bad enough before, with no Carer cleaning it for three or four weeks now. Ejaz was the last one to do it. I’ll try to remember the sequence of droppages & spillages, etc. Oddly, I could recall these with ease. I think this is because I was all het up and angry at myself for repeatedly making such a mess that it stuck with me… maybe.
I took the monster potato out of the oven; the husk disintegrated on the outside, with flakes of skin all over the counter, tray, cooker, and floor… Grrr!
Belatedly, I got the chopping board out and used that to slice the spud in half. It took a long time to clean up, but it didn’t matter that the veg was cooling, as I was going to scoop it into a basin for mixing, then put it back in the oven to brown off.
I got the no-butter butter from the fridge to mix in, and picked up the large mixing bowl, this is where interfered again. I dropped the bowl, & no-butter butter. The bowl, hitting a large stack of Tupperware washed earlier and left to drain, with several different-sized bowls, fell to the floor, rolled around, and surrounded the No-butter butter! A bit of luck this time, the long picker-upper meant no bending and less pain and dizziness!
Still determined to have my favourite meal, I pressed on after a few minutes of recuperation.
I cut the mammoth potato in half lengthwise and began scooping the flesh into the mixing bowl. It was here, that kicked off.
I stood looking down the bowl at some of the potatoes on the floor. I’ll not say what I called myself.
But it was a smidge defamatory.
No choice, I could not avoid bending down, if I was going to clean this up with the little bits on the floor.
I’ve asked every Carer to find out where I can get a long-handled brush & dustpan set. And how! Being as I am now flat-bound again!
Irritation brewed in my mind, not self-pity this time, more like a semi-anger.
Back to cooking. I scooped the flesh into the bowl, added the last of the Leicester-grated cheese, and some No-butter butter and sea salt. Bashed it up for as long as I could, into t semi-smooth state, refilled the two halves of the husk, ran a fork over the top of each to ensure crispiness when cooked, and went for a sit-down without doing any clearing up, and fell asleep.
Not for long, but I could smell the potatoes when I woke up. So, off into the kitchen and they were just how I like ’em, well done. And they were red hot when I extracted them from the oven. So while they cooled a bit, I cleared and washed things up.

Then at last, and with great physical and emotional pains, I got the meals served up… After adding Chilli & Lemon Potato Curls. Great!
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Worth All The Hassle? You Decide! Hehehe!
Despite it all, it was lovely,
But I have to say, costly,
Pricewise, Physically & Mentally,
I say this enthusiastically,
I fare with life intolerantly,
But, voided living in xerophagy,
I need help neuropsychiatrically,
I can feel high, but hesitantly…
With the crap-luck that haunts me!
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Inchie Today: Sunday 26th April 2026

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Food Shortages On The Way
Carbonated Drinks/Beer: CO2 is crucial for carbonation, and shortages can affect production.
Meat Products: Chicken and pork, which require CO2 for packaging and processing, are deemed highly vulnerable.
Salad/Packaged Foods: Shortages in carbon dioxide affect the shelf life and packaging of fresh, prepared fish, fruit and salad items.
Baked Goods: As with salads, some vegetable packaging may be affected.
CO2 Shortages: A major UK plant’s potential issues, coupled with high natural gas costs, have constrained the supply of fertiliser and CO2, a by-product of the process.
Geopolitical Instability: Threats to supply chains and rising energy costs, with warnings of shortages within weeks. Flight Cancellations: Airlines are reducing flights due to a jet fuel shortage, leading to many cancellations of orders.
Fresh Produce: Tomatoes, cucumbers, and peppers may face shortages or significant price hikes due to rising, war-driven energy costs for greenhouses.
What To Stock
Tinned Meats & Fish: Tuna, sardines, salmon, corned beef, spam, corn, and stewed steak.
Tinned Meals/Veg: Baked beans, chickpeas, kidney beans, soup, and tinned potatoes.
Carbs: Pasta, rice, noodles (like Super Noodles), dried soya, and oats.
Long-life Dairy & Alternatives: UHT milk, powdered milk, and canned custard.
Nutrient-Dense & Pantry Items: Peanut butter, nuts, dried fruit, honey, and cooking oils (ghee).
Comfort Foods: Chocolate, biscuits, crisps, some sauces and sweets.
Recommendations
Stockpiling Advice: Experts suggest maintaining a basic inventory of non-perishable items, including tinned foods, rice, and pasta.
STARMER
The UK government is planning for potential summer 2026 food shortages: chicken, pork, and products requiring carbon dioxide, such as packaged meats and fizzy drinks, due to disruptions in the Strait of Hormuz. While not currently critical, this “worst-case scenario” could lead to reduced variety in supermarkets and higher food inflation, currently forecast to increase by 10-15%.
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After yesterday’s unbelievable series of happenings, Frustrations, Accifauxpas, Whoopsiedangleplops, and Mini-Catastrophies, that followed a similar pattern to the three days before, I felt surely today, the Lord’s Day, would bring a less-pressured, less-hassled, mayhap even calmer, smoother day. 
06:35hrs, I stirred, feeling that the swollen legs were a little less painful. Until I tried to stand up.
Sorry, but today has been so busy again.

BP on Hyper Level.
Iceland order.
Not a lot.
Plenty of bog rolls and spring water,
just in case of shortages coming,
Need it for the Catheter.
State of retained water feet.
Carbonated drinks.
Afternoon views.
Tree Copse, how I miss visiting it.
Sky snap.
After the 2nd nurse’s visit.
CorelDraw froze, again!
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Not much detail, so far behind again.
Just too busy, Humph!
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Ejaz did all but the last call today, a grand lad, conscientious and caring. 👌🏼
Another good um, Mizra did last call.

Jenny, bless her, rang me and commiserated.
👼🏻 My Guardian Angel. 👼🏻

Got some food made up, Mizra had kindly prepped for me earlier. Just got to get the spuds and peas out of the slow-cooker, if they are ready.

They were…
Imitation crabsticks, pickled mushrooms,
Extra-Strong Stilton cheese, garden peas heated in soy sauce, chopped green tomato, and all the remaining small potatoes with a splash of Hoisin sauce on the spuds. Gorgeous Taste!

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Inchie: Saturday 25th April 2026

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WHAT AN ODD NIGHT
It started when I settled in 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, rusty, flea-bitten catheter-tube-trapping recliner, to eat my creative evening meal. Whatever made me try this mixture, I’m not sure. I found a long-life ready meal fallen at the back of the cupboard. Sweet & Sour Vegetables. I tipped that into a microwave dish earlier in the day, and got some peas and a potato cooking in the slow cooker to add to it later. I got the idea to add some Bombay potatoes to it. Mixed it in and left it all to marinate for a few hours. It was delicious! 
Spilling it on my dressing gown was not in the plan! Got cleaned up; the swollen feet were giving me some grief. Got back to finish the feast, and took the tray & dishes to the kitchen to soak overnight. 
Turned the lights out when I put the TV on and started watching some recorded episodes of Heartbeat. Perfectly naturally for me, I fell asleep and realised the volume was a little high… Could I find the remote control? No! Well, it took me ages. Got up, searched for the torch, and hunted around. On the verge of deciding I’d have to turn the TV off at the power switch, I found it wrapped in the dressing gown I had to take off that I’d dirtied.
Turned down the sound and turned on a Boon recording. Perfectly naturally for me, I fell asleep.
Could I find the remote control to change the channel? This time, I was certain it had dissolved into the ether. I was on the arm of the £300 second-hand shop purchase in 1966, which was a well-causing, uncomfortable, not-working, itch-inspiring, and crumb-containing recliner. Now the batteries had gone flat on the torch. I went into the kitchen to get the solar-powered battery, but that had gone AWOL. Back to the main room, for another search, no luck. Then I decided to get the pots washed. During which I knocked a bottle of washing-up liquid off the drainer, it was more lethal than ice skating! An hour later, I’d cleaned up the floor, in a fashion.
Put the light on in the front room for another hunt for the remote control. I found it! I’d put it on the Carers table, that’s within arm’s reach.
TV back on, to see a recorded Heartbeat episode.
Perfectly naturally for me, I fell asleep. Woke with the intentions of switching off the TV… a problem; I could not find the remote control! Never have yet. Turned the TV off at the plug. I realised what time it was in the morning, with all my faffling about. I did a safety check of the flat, taps, lights, stove, cookers, etc., and got my head down.

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Heavenly sleep, I can’t recall waking up at all. But, at 06:25hrs, I burst awake and instantly knew I had to hobble hastily to the Porcelain Throne. As you can see, a bad start to the day. Not the first time, nor, I expect, will it be the last occasion. Humph!

I had a stand-up wash and shave, and did the teggies, then checked on the wetroom cleaning had been done safely.
I got my fresh Kagoule and dressing gown on. Then I Hoovered the hallway. I could wear neither socks, shoes, nor slippers again. This is due to the swollen feet. This also prevented me from going with the Carer to do some shopping. I was looking forward to that, I really was. Tsk!

I got the computer on and found the missing shades and TV remote. Both partway under 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. Got them out using the long picker-upperer. But, it set off Back-Pain-Brenda.

I was so pleased to see Carer Elaz arrive, an excellent Carer whom I trust, as with Mizra. 
Ejaz gave me the medications, reminded me to take the K & B Vitamins, and carried out a full body check on me. No one has done that since the last time Ejaz did, Monday, I think. It helped me, having just cleared and washed the infected areas. He checked meticulously and barrier-creamed Phorpain Gelled Back-Pain-Brenda, Swollen-Feet-Francis, Factured-Knee-Frank, Lymphorrhea-Leslies-Legs, Swollen-Toes-Titianna, Shoulder-Shaking-Shirley, and all those in need. Made me a mug of tea, and brought me a few bikkies to dunk. Thanks, Ejaz.

I took two photographs from the kitchenette window. The sunshine was getting hotter and brighter as I pictured these scenes.

I got on the computer, and CorelDraw caused some… er… unknown, unexplained faults for me. Had to save, close, and reopen it. Then it wouldn’t let me delete photographs. And Asif’s man has missed the last three times he said he’d call.
He must just be extremely busy, I suppose.

Ejaz returned for the longer shopping call. I felt horrible not being able to go with him and pick out what I fancy from the shops. Huh!
I blame the medical people. Not really! But they knew I had to drink tons, gallons of water to ease the pain from the Catheter flowback, for four days. Now I have water retention in both legs, feet, and all toes!
The agony was getting too much. Then, fortunately, the lesion in my penis started squirting out urine all over me, the carpet and even the computer!
I had to sit here as the urine suddenly flowed, the bag ever filling up, and the squirty leak from the finger lesion spraying everything, with a large mixing bowl between my legs to try to catch little Inchy’s contribution, for hours until a nurse arrived to save the day. Bless her Cotton-Socks. 💟 I know I may have said all this earlier, but what a thing to go through! Gawd knows how I got through it.
Self-Pity now… Sorry. I went off track there, sorry again, back to blessed Ejaz. Painkillers issued. And gave him the shopping list that I wanted him to get for me, handed him some money & off he shot.

Back on the computer and started the Ode of the day. This time, I think I must have hit the wrong keys. I got up a graph of choices to make, each with a warning that this or that will not work if you accept/take this action. Or, you will not be able to edit after taking this option… Not the foggiest idea what it all meant, but there was no close option on the window. Baffled again. I clicked close on the big window and gave it a minute or two, then opened it again. Phew! Back to normal. This prompted thoughts of the Oligarchs to go on the Ode.

Blimus, it’s getting hot here now. Back into the kitchen to take more sky shots.
When I’m sitting down, there is no pain from the swollen feet whatsoever. The moment I move to stand up, or hobble about, they work overtime on their pain onslaught. Hehe!

Ejaz returned with the shopping. The lad was wringing with sweat. 

He had taken the following snaps while out.
To show me what I’d missed. Haha!

Front of Woodthorpe Flats, end of the car park.
On is way out.
Not sure when; Windwood & Winchestrt Courts.
Centre Winwood Court.
Winchester Street Hill.
Up the hill.
Cutting through to the car park, Sherwood.
Mansfield Road
Mansfield Road the other way.
Forists near the Ozan store.
Outside Ozans.
Back at the flats.
Traffic island on Chestnut Way.
Where I am imprisoned,
Voodthorpe Court.
Towards the end of the car park.
The new footpath up the hill.
Wasn’t that kind of him, Ejaz?
Ejaz came up and gave me the nosh he’s bought for me. Three bottles of Soda water, Schweppes.
A classy, grand, costly brand, for me.
Lemon wafers, green tomatoes,
& gigantic potatoes. Hehe!

As Ejaz was ready to go, I felt a sharp pain in my right foot from water retention swelling.
Ejaz had a look and took a photo.
Doesn’t look good at all now.
Not been as painful as this
all day. Mmm?

I got the meal prepped and ready to serve with some beef later tonight.

Carer Ejaz did the late call. Phorpained the right Shuddering-Shoulder-Shirley, issued medications, and issued a mug of tea and bikkies for me. 👍🏻

A First-Time Long, Active Seizure.
I had a second seizure, that I know of; the first was a mini seizure, the second I believe was a very rare Long Active one. When I came out-of-it to the usual upflux of acid into the throat, mouth, and nose, I was in 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 last memory before coming out-of-it was of swearing at CorelDraw as it froze on me… Then, I find myself half-in, half-out of the recliner. I’d taken the bottle of springwater from under the computer with me, and after waiting for my senses to return and getting up on my feet, I spotted that I’d closed down the computer. Why? Had I solved the problem? Had I given up? It really was a blank. I tried to keep calm and even considered calling for help. But it was already too late, gone 22:00 hours. I’d lost two hrs, I reckon.  
Then my swollen feet felt the wet on the carpet!
I tried to recall things, water. But I got no help from Memory Mangling Malcolm in response. I felt that we were both puzzled, bemused. I didn’t panic, but a determination arose witin me to find out what I’d been doing. Apart from hobbling around and spilling water everywhere. 
I got to the computer chair, to find I’d not only torn the last page from the memory pad, but torn it into tiny pieces and thrown them into the waste bin! Next, I saw that the landline phone was out of its cradle, and the ear drops and diabetes pep drink had been knocked over on the desk. 
I then went into the kitchen and found the cold water tap running. Then the bladder backflow hit me from the Catheter tube. Arrgh! seems the most suitable word to use. I guzzled a litre of spring water and part of a litre of soda water straight away. Desperate to avoid the super-agony that I had gone through for the previous days.
Luckily, the pain eased within a minute of drinking the liquids, and the pouch filled rapidly.
Despite still having worries about what else I might have been doing during the seizure. I just had to get back on the computer and check if I’d done something silly, or even fatal, on the machine. Everything was working, but I had not closed down properly. Lost some work on WordPress, but could find nowt else terribly wrong. I closed the computer down, stripped and climbed carefully into bed.


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Inchie: Thursday 23rd April 2026

/ Inchie / 2 Comments

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So many events, incidents, mistakes, frustrations, deteriorations, irritations, and depressions, brought about by a variety of circumstances, took place this Thursday. But they were rescinded, almost obliterated in memory, by a six-hour-long, absolute pain-ridden farce with the bladder & Catheter. I was so far behind on the blogs that I’ll be lucky to get this blog done within a day, relying on a break in catastrophes. Life for Inchie, in old age, which the fool thought would be quiet and peaceful – he was obviously wide of the mark on that assumption.  Especially the last four years or so. He wishes that he had had these twenty years ago, when the NHS was efficient and reliable. It is more like a torture establishment than a hospital nowadays. 
But it shadows his own life’s decline. Neither the NHS nor Gerry’s are improvements
To give myself a slight chance of catching up, I’m going to try to relate only the Catheter Farce. But that will take ages, cause I do waffle on about these things, don’t I? Ahem!
I’m just sad that so much will have to be left out, so I can pretend to be catching up on my blogging.
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Having had nearly two weeks of atrociously painful flowbacks from the Catheter, and over the week having eleven District Nurses tend to me (I like them all) to try and start the stopped flow of urine, and each time wriggling the tube, and it started again.
This went on for several days. I was embarrassed each time I called them. Feeling that they did not believe me about the incapacitating pains I was getting when the flowback started. Usually, bless them, they are with me in about 3 hours, and this was much appreciated. On every call they made, I was told to keep drinking water or to drink more water. So I did. I bought a load of it. After a couple of days of agony, the agony from the flowback continued, but then I got water retention in my feet, and a different pain joined in the melee and mysteries of life at Woodthorpe Court. The hobgoblins, spectres, gnomai, phantasms, grotesque succubae, ectoplasms, forgetfulness,  Whoopsiedangleplops, taps left running, stove left on,  spirits, Accifauxpas, slow-cooker left on – my record to date is for 18 hours, fridge-feezers doors left open, light bulbs bursting, catheter-failures, and now the legs and feet are bowing up with water retention…
And the Doctor has given me Finasteride, or is that Finasteride, to reduce the size of my prostate to help the flow of urine. Either way, how can she not know that I’ve been on both for four years now?
I can’t have much, if any, prostate left. Hehehe!
Sorry about that. Back to the plot…
I woke up in the morning with no Catheter pains, and it stayed that way for well into the afternoon. Bliss!
Then they kicked off again, violently, as bad, if not worse than ever. So, I did the only thing I thought would eventually ease the pain, and guzzled and guzzled Spring and Soda water.
This time, it did nothing to ease the agony. In fact, it got worse. So, I guzzled another few litres of water. Then, as I sat there at the computer desk, I thought I felt water dripping on my ankle. I checked, expecting it to come from the Catheter tube, as it had started sprouting out again. I put a large bowl between my legs to catch the drips, then gulped yet another litre of water. Then felt the urine coming up into the tube, and covered the tube tightly with paper towels…
Nothing came out of the tube, but…
The urine burst out through the hole in Little Inchy’s fungal lesion, Arrgh! I’m not joking, even if this sounds impossible, it happened…
A forceful, fine sprinkling of urine shot out.
My Kagoule, dressing gown, legs, and feet all got their quota of wetting! The jug between my legs fell onto the floor, giving the carpet an extra soaking!
As I was struggling to free myself of my clothing…
A second surge was suffered, I could not understand why all of a sudden, the wee flowed unexpectedly. A short burst this time. But the two combined were enough to fill the urine jug, 2000ml.  
I spread several kitchen rolls over the floor, with extra ones near where I sat. Got the togs off, and with the bowl between my knees and two walking sticks (not a pretty sight), I somehow made it to the wet room to empty the jug and bowl… As I was doing so, a third wave arrived! Leaving the two walls, the ceiling and anything in between, pebble-dashed with yellow spots. I got back to the computer and mess I’d sprayed like a mail cat, and called the District Nurses for help. I was told some would be along to see me.  
In the three hours I waited, I had several more bursts from the penis lesion. But in between, I’d gathered kitchen rolls, found a way of hold the bowl in place, and reduced the spraying. Amidst the panic, I felt a Smug-Mode coming on. Fatal that was!
One last blast was coming on, I got the floor covered, no clothes on to limit the damage… but this last spurt was the strongest of them all. As I started t clean up, after waiting for ten minutes in case another follow-up arrived. None did. Great! As I was trying to freshen the carpet, not easy using a picker-upperer, I glanced at the computer screen… it was covered in tiny splashes of urine! Disgusted, I was! Then saw that the keyboard had also been a victim! cleaned things as well as I could. Then I considered crying out loud.

I heard the door open, and the nurse came in.
I told her about the events as she got ready to remove and insert a new Catheter Contraption. But not in as much detail as I have here. She or anyone else would not have believed me if I did.
I showed my concern that the penis cut may still leak. But she didn’t think so, but to call her if it did.
Thank heavens it hasn’t… yet.

Progressing…
New set-up

🖖🏻 Keep well 🖖🏻
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Inchie: Wed 22nd April 2026

/ Inchie / 5 Comments

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Tomorrow’s disastrous afternoon left me with 5 hours with a leaking fungal lesion, urine-covered, swollen feet, wet carpet, Kaghoule, pants, waiting for the nurse to arrive and save the day. And she did, bless her. New Catheter Contraption fitted with minimal pain. 🙏🏻🌸🧡 So, I couldn’t make a start on this until 17:30hrs. Have I got you guessing what the Whoopsiedangleplop was?
Without Jenny, I’d be even more lost.
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Order arrived…
With Catheter,
Morning mini-puffer
cloud pictures.
The Catheter went potty today. By At 
13:00hrs, it had filled the day bag
15 times. The afternoon? Just three.
All a part of the mysteries and bad
luck inhabiting of Woodthorpe Court,
with the hobgoblins, spectres, gnomai,
phantasms, ghosts, grotesque succubae,
extraterrestrials, spirits, ectoplasms,
Receptive Aphasia, Phyllis, Paroxysmal dyskinesia,  Episodic and ataxia, Ménière’s
disease, Fractured Knee Frank, and
Dark, Deep, Dark, Depressing Darius. With
Nicodemus Neurotransmitters Dying,
Glaucoma Gladys, Stuttering Stephany, Lymphorrhea Leslie, Premordid Cognitive Impairment Inchie, the damned seizures, or Fata Morganas sent to taunt, irk,
terminate my already limited saneness of mind. My faith, sanity, and logicality… on the brink.
Mystery photo taken. Hehe!

Looking towards the City and,
The Doctor’s surgery that we were
just arriving at Sherrington Park.
A Carer originally told me that an appointment had been made for me to have the swollen legs investigated.
At Elmswood Gardens Health Centre.
Then it changed to the Doctor in Carrington.
The Carers arranged a lift there, and we got two buses back to Sherwood and up Winchester Street Hill and to the flat. 
In the Doctors
We were dropped off in the car park by another Carer.
Very kind of them and he. Carer entered with me, and we used the electric machine to sign in. But, it wasn’t having it. The receptionist logged us in. Carer jeard my name being called, and I made my way to Dr Vindla’s room… Then we realised the appointment was not with the Doctor, but with the nurse, so we went to her room.
The nurse checked out the swollen legs, feet, and toes. At this point, the Doctor, in her going-home clothes, came in. She will electronically send a prescription for some Furosemide. To counter the retained waters. Explaining that it is a risky balance, putting me back on them. They may reduce water intake, but can often increase cholesterol levels. Two weeks’ supply, then we’ll see how things are.
Then to the bus stop. The lightning Carer left me in his wake. Luckily, I didn’t have a seizure or tumble.

Caught a bus in Sherwood, the Care shooting off way in front again. Well, he’s worried about being late.
He suggested I pay for a taxi next time. I can’t believe he forgot about my knees.

Now I have a bigger stock of Spring Water
All tired up, first, and the second delivery.
Soda water
2-litre Spring.

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Inchie Today: Tuesday 21st April 2026

/ Inchie / 6 Comments

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TUESDAY 21st APRIL 2026
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Painfully later on.

Late breakfast.
Glum Start.

Catheter Problems Again
Talk about pain, this was horrendous to cope with. The only thing I could do was to drink water all day, constantly topping up.
Carer said yesterday when he called, I had about 60 bottles of water in the hallway, and he thought it was unnecessary. This evening when I called, there was none left!
I’m starting on the few 200ml and 500ml I have left. Ordered more for tomorrow, hope they last, or it’s tap water for me. Which will mean hobbling into the kitchen for top-ups non-stop, and with the state of my legs and feet, it’s gonna hurt a bit. Naturally, my plans to ease the pain went wrong. I have to constantly be drinking it; it is going to work. Naturally, the Warfarin DVT Blood Collector came for the samples. So, for only about 12 minutes, I drank no water. As she left, I picked up one of the ever-dwindling supply of water bottles, but it was too late; the vicious flow-back pains returned. I did not have sufficient supply to gulp away freely, or I’d have none for the following times. Thus, I had about two hours of agony, during which all I could do was grind what few teeth I have left and bear it.
Then the Warden came to test the alert alarm, same again. Arrgh!
The Carers tried throughout the first calls to reach the Nurses to seek advice on the legs, feet, the Catheter problem, and the painful knee from the tumble…
Oh, yes, I had another tumble again. Walking on swollen feet is dangerous. Carer got me up again. Easy this time, I fell on, then off the bed, nice and gently. I rang early, but they always get busy in the mornings, and all I got for my four efforts was an engaged tone. Later, Carer R rang three times, then, on his fourth attempt, he got into the queue in 19th position. Had to give up.
He tried again on his next visit and got through, and they told him they would ring back. They did, telling me I had an appointment with the Doctor tomorrow (Wed) at 16:30hrs, which I must attend. Then the mayhem got even more confusing for me. Carer M told me the computer assessor is coming at 13:30hrs. Then asked if I was up to going to the Doctors while the Catheter is playing painully-up, not working, then filling up fully within a minute like yesterday? Your balance after the Catheter bother is terrible, and you have had two falls.
I was worrying about these problems as he asked me. But what to do? Make a decision? Me? If I don’t go, I may miss some help. If I go, I’ll risk another tumble, or the Catheter flowback pains coming on, with no water to drink, and nowhere to empty the pouch, and the flowback will suddenly start again? Also, with the blown-up legs and feet making walking more risky, what should I do?
Another thing that concerns me is the Warden warning me of the dangers of drinking too much water. I have no choice, it is the only way to stop the agonising pain. I looked on Google about the problem: “Drinking too much water can lead to hyponatremia (water intoxication), a dangerous condition where sodium levels in the blood become too diluted, causing cells—especially in the brain—to swell. Symptoms range from headaches and nausea to seizures, coma, and, rarely, death. It most commonly affects athletes or people drinking over 1 litre per hour.”
Crikey, there have been many occasions when I’ve drunk 4 litres an hour to save myself from the pain… looks like I may have killed myself as well. If I can get to the Doctors, I might get some advice on this. If I don’t fall over and kill myself on the way. Or, fall off the bus and get run over, and my Catheter bursts open, spraying everything and one. I dread the thought of suffering with the Catheter’s near-my-pain-limit, agonising backflow starting when I’m out. 
If I put some bottles of water in the three-wheeled walker and they are delivered in the morning, then I’m going to be very popular with others when I can’t collapse it when I get on the bus and hinder other people’s movement. Lifting ot onto and off a bus will be a challenge.

Short, but not sweet. Hehehe!

WordPress is not allowing me to load from the Add Media page; nothing is coming up.
Turned off and on, seems to be working now?

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Well, this time anyway, what
Anyone else had this, please?
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CHEERS, FOLKS!
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Inchie: Sat-Sun 18-19th April 2026

/ Inchie / 4 Comments

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SATURDAY 18th APRIL
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My worst day for pain all week. Bladder-flow-back agony was the main culprit. Took the maximum allowed of OxyContin painkillers and Co-Codamol. No relief from the bladder pains whatsoever. But at least, with it being so bad, Shaking Shoulder Shirley, Back-Pain-Brenda, Earache Erasmus, and even Toothache Tiffany were of minimum status, pain-wise. More visits from the District Nurses, I’m not sure they realised I was suffering so much. Maybe even doubtful of me, when on both visits, they got the glow going in minutes, something is not right in there, the bladder or the urine or both. There has to be. I have a decent pain tolerance, but this issue took me to my very limit. Again, to ease the pain, I tried everything I could. Apart from pushing it with the pain medications, I kept wandering about as I did yesterday, trying to take my mind off the problem. Hoovering here and there, washing where I could reach in the Wet Room and kitchen. Cleaning the fridge… but of course, nothing helped. The pain droned on until the first nurses arrived. And within minutes, it was flowing again.

The usual advice: keep drinking water. So I did. In the morning, Carer Ejaz said there must have been fifteen empty one-litre water bottles in the collated bin-bag, a dozen 500ml, and two two-litre bottles. My silly-at-the-time, great over-stocking with boxes in the hallway did eventually prove to be a blessing on Sunday. Stocks naturally had dwindled, and I made an order for more – I didn’t want to run short again. Not knowing how long this will last. Guzzling away, but the pains returned. So bad this time, I pressed the alert alarm and was taken through a Q&A session. They said a nurse would be along.

Managed to take a few snaps in between praying for help with the pain, and many Porcelain Throne visitations were made. Got the computer on to add Friday’s food snap to the blog. Mind-Mangling-Malcom, and CorelDraw playing up, and ensured I got nothing done.
I made many mugs of tea to complement the gallons of spring and soda water taken. Well, it felt like it.
The feet, ankles, and toes were still swollen and ought to have been painful, but the bladder bother was so bad, it reduced their effects, I think. Oh, maybe it was all the drugs I’d taken. Hehe!
I fear I may have got things terribly out of order chronologically. They happened, but when may be questionable, timing, what day, and why I  even bother trying to catch up, cause it’s an impossibility.

 Blimey, the Catheter started flowing with lots coming at once, and of a great colour too! Aert Alarm. Nurses came again. I’m sure they think I’m fibbing about the amount of water I’m drinking. I dare not go anywhere outside, cause I can’t carry the water with me.
One of the nurses told me, “Each time you empty your day pouch, you put it in the jug that has a measurement on the side of it.” She showed me which one to use on the jug and asked me to try to drink as much water as was shown in the jug. I thanked her and said I would. She then pointed out not to do this with the nocturnal pouch, just take plenty of water when you wake up. I laughed and told her I had no sleep for three nights, cause the pain wakes me up! I assume they reported back to the Community Clinic, because I got a telephone call from a bloke from there within fifteen minutes. More Q&A’s. Lots of them. 

The BP returns today, shook me.
Sys 184-Dia68-Pul 85-Blod 94/82. I’ve done another cock-up! This was on Friday, not today. Mind-Mangling Malcolm, Arithmaphobia Artimus, Catheter Flowback Bart, of course, banging away at my sanity.

So many things that I cannot read on the two-page memory pad. My eyes are not good at all. I can’t find if I am on the list for lasering or not. I do hope so. Then again, is it worth them doing it on Coffin-Ready old fart, like me?
This blogging may have to be terminated. The eyes, mistakes and the colossal amount of time it takes, adding the lack of sleep for three days, and most damaging to my hopes, this whatever it is that no one knows, I’ll have to christen it before I finish with Inchie Today… erm…
Catheter-Flowback-Colleen?
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SUNDAY 19th APRIL
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SUNDAY 18th APRIL
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Sleep, Sleep, Glorious Sleep!
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It was great! No bloody bladder bothering or waking me up! I had to stop myself from getting up too quickly, although the joy made me want to. Sensibly, I rose carefully and did the balance exercises. Removed the nocturnal catheter bag and, within two minutes, saw pee flowing down the tube into the day bag. Smug-Mode-Engaged for the first time in many days… Sheer, utter Joy…
But it was not to last for long!
I merrily hobbled into the kitchenette to do the checks and get the kettle on the boil. I believe I was singing to myself as I saw the sunshine outside, felt painless inside, opened the window wide and took these two snaps of the view. At long last, I could start a day without worrying about pain, the bladder or drinking litres of spring and soda water.
The urine had bir been flowing for several minutes. I gulped down
a litre of soda water and another of spring water. But the tube appeared to be clear. Five minutes after drinking another litre of spring water, the Catheter pouch looked like a rugby ball!
on my leg. Hahaha! Drinking when one is forced to is not a pleasure. If I didn’t, Bladder Catheter Bob (another name for it?) would have me in the grip of his flowback pains agonising, excruciating, paralysing, gruelling, unendurable, torturing, more than flesh and blood can bear, harrowing, grievous, gut-wrenching, abhorrent, abominable, almost insuffrable, nauseating, intolerable, distressing grip. Just thought I’d mention it, in passing.
My eyes are getting worse again. I may have to give up. On WordPress, I can at least change the font and size. Then WP changes them to any font I don’t want. Changing them again and again.
Still, you don’t like to complain, do yer?

Then, to make my day, the computer, or MS, or other oligarchic con-men company, allowed this whatever-it-was to show up on screen. This didn’t happen with my Atari ST, specifically the 520ST. launched in 1985. No library destruction; no Synonyms for a computer hacker. Depend on their intent, ranging from technically skilled professionals to malicious actors. Common terms include cracker, cyberpunk, phreaker, techie, infiltrator, intruder, and threat-actor. Specifically, breaking systems maliciously. 
Was the internet going in 1985?

I got the meal served up for later. another cold one.
It looked pretty good to me. I was going to cover the tray with foil to keep it fresh, and a glance out of the window told me I had to take some photos of the darkening houses, which looked a smidge eerie.
I missed this cloud snap that I took on the left earlier. Better late than never… or is it?

Carer Mizra arrived, and was glad he had not got any cooking ot food prep to do. I quickly told him about the bladder-failure drinking and frustration, not to mention the pain it gave, Hehe! He went to empty the urine jug, I think. As he was doing so…
I stood up to go to the kitchenette.
I bent down slightly to pick up a letter I wanted him to read and explain to me…
As I felt the haze & dizziness enfold me, I shouted his name out. Seconds later, down I went. Falling on and crushing the box with the letter, and one underneath with biscuits. I put my hands out instinctively, and the boxes collapsed when I thudded down, splitting them open, as Mizra arrived. All within 20 seconds max. I came around to Mizra, bending down to hold me. He later told me I’d gone into a mini seizure for about 30 seconds after I landed. He asked me if I wanted an ambulance, but it seems I was out of it and didn’t (can’t recall this bit). A smidge confused at first, I soon felt the acid reflux coming up into my throat, nose, and mouth. So, no doubt I had a seizure, but after the fall.
I felt the pain in my right knee this time, and oddly, in my goolies. But this was matter-of-fact, because we then had the job of getting my elephantine, huge & wobbly body up on my feet. I was clear-headed moments later and could tell Mizra how to help me get up. Not an easy task, let’s face it. 
But he managed it with relative ease. I think two people were grunting during the raising of the Titanic, Inchie. I’m in pain, and Mizra is struggling with the challenge at hand, Hahaha!
A magnificent effort from the lad got me up in no time, first time as well. There was just one moment when I struggled to get my right leg straightened, as we got me up. I recall vaguely thinking I may have fractured the right knee now. A bit sore, but by morning it was just stiffness. Mizra had to go to his last call. Making sure I felt okay first. 
A grand job that he did!
There were no after effects, and by morning the stiffness had all but gone. The fibs ached, but did not actually hurt at all. It could have been a lot, lot worse. The main thing is that I avoided going into the hell-hole known as the hospital.
Mind you, I think it helped having the agony of the bladder and the catheter hurting me, and I reckon it sort of helped me get through the tumble. A good
I didn’t burst the flipping Catheter bag.

I went to fetch the fodder.
Boiled cut potatoes, tomatoes,
crispy chilli potato snacks, and a fair
dollop of Teryaki sauce, no bread.
The imitation crab sticks were
cut up by Mizra, as were the sticks.

I struggled a bit to get the night pouch on. Bending down again, but I had no option.

I watched the football on TV. I managed two matches and drifted off to sleep, heavenly sleep!

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Until, if I get my eyes done, I have to
make Inchie Today irregularly. Maybe.
just an ode, cartoon & Health Check.
I’m hoping it may be that I can get
back to doing a full blog.
Keep Safe
👍🏻🤎🙏🏻🌼🕊🌹😸💔

Inchie: Friday 17th April 2026

/ Inchie / 4 Comments

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Sorry, no Ode – Sad that. Details below are a smidgeon teeny-bitlong-winded, perhaps. Sorry again.
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I have two pages of notes on today’s rather miserable day. With no sleep at all overnight. I was going to go shopping with Carer Mizra. But 9 hours of bladder pains with no urine getting through again, and this time it was far more agonising than Wednesday night’s performance. If you don’t mind, with it being fresh in my mind and no notes recorded of this period, I’d like to explain the Whoopsiedangleplops and Tale-Of-Woe of the Nottingham Lad’s Friday, well, agony, first.
This covers 2100hrs to 0630hrs Saturday.
The morning had little, if any, trouble from the Catheter or bladder. In the afternoon, things slowly got worse. The amount of urine entering the bag gradually decreased, and twinges and stabbing pains developed. Despite my slurping more water than ever, I was nervous of the night bringing what it did. brought.
21:00hrs; I added the Catheter Night Pouch to the day bag, and from then on, no urine flow. I managed to drink about a gallon of water. Until the pain increased, then overnight it got horrendous. horrendous overnight. I got a little sleep, for twenty minutes or so, just after midnight. I could not sit or lie down. Pottering about at first, in the kitchen, then the spare room, to get things done, in an effort to get the pain out of my mind. It didn’t work, of course.
I had to keep trying to take a rear-end phoo.
I took a variety of attempts, all but one were too painful to pass, giving my bladder a pasting of pain. 
The last one, Oh, drearie me, I did not get there in time. “Another mess to clean up, which caused more hassle”.
I was suffering by the time I’d cleaned it up and myself. For the second day, I summoned the community nurses for help. They got the catheter working. But it stopped within five minutes of them leaving. But still… erm, er… forgot what I was going to say then.

My eyesight is terrible.
I’ve had no sleep for several days.
The Catheter is giving me so much GIP, I can’t concentrate on anything. I’ll just do short blogs, if the computer lets me, for a few days.
Saturday was another “Why do I bother” day!
It is now Sunday. I’ll put some photos on, but I doubt I’ll remember what was what and when.

Morning shot of the balcony


The day brightened suddenly

List of things to get done on Saturday. Hopefully, Carer Mizra will be able to take me shopping. But only if the Catheter starts working properly.
Needless to say, I suppose, but this did not happen.

Nice night shots.

Carer Mizra asked if I wanted a meal done. But I could see he was running late, and declined the offer.
I made a cold meal, though.
Keilbasa (Sausages), seaweed. mushrooms,
and some ready-cooked chestnuts. Nice.

This is what can happen if your Catheter plug shoots open when you are in the kitchen… cause the pee started coming out, and it filled that quickly, and decorated the floor as I had to hobble through it with the walking stick, to get the mop and bucket!
Finding this mess, fallen twixt the non-working cooker and the floor cupboard, its door hanging off.

The sleep proved to be a third night of no sleep.
Even worse, it was not really painful, more like an excruciating, piercing, agonising, Insomnia-ridden, antsy one.


Instead of calling me, James Timothy Gerald, Percival, Algernoon. Luckless might have helped.

😖 TTFN 🤔

Inchie Today: Thursday 16th April 2026

/ Inchie / 8 Comments

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A mixed day. visited a few times, but after each visit, he stayed all night when the Catheter stopped flowing again in the evening. Backflow pains are so bad, with me having none of the new pain medication to fight them. Just to throw another spanner in the works, Anne Gyna was having a right go at me through the night. Needless to say, sleep was at a premium. Insufficient to meet the demand needed for me to be in any state to face getting up in the morning. Note: I don’t say “waking up”- that’s a no-go if I can’t get to sleep in the first place. More frustrating was nurse Maude saying there was nothing they could do about it, or Little Inchys fungal lesion, which has grown in size since her last visit. So, I did my best to adopt a ‘Grin & Bear it attitude. Not very successfully, I’m afraid. I kept repeatedly trying to push the tube further in, and guzzling so much water that I’ll have to order more tomorrow. Just to boost those in hand in the hallway. Just in case this becomes a regular occurrence. I’ll try ordering some soda water as well. and drink one between each bottle of spring water. If the painkillers arrive, I may cope a little easier with it. It’s even worse tonight, with Anne Gyna stabbing away as well. Oh, I fear I was using a lot of naughty language each time the surge returned. Luckily, Duodenal Donald is not active at the moment… oh dearie me… should I have risked saying that? 
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On with the Tale Of Woes: I woke, rose and got the night Catheter off; it had an amazing 650ml of urine in it and was a fair colour. I drank a litre of spring water to try to keep the flow going, and it worked; the pouch was filling up again. Made a brew and visited the Porcelain Throne. I almost casually meandered wobblingly partway to the wet room, the last stretch an Arthur Itis bothering fast as I could rush. Verbally asking things not to come too soon. Whoever I was talking to obviously did not hear me. Cleaning up after the 3-second watery evacuation took me ages.
That was a great start to the day, then!

I meandered into the kitchen in my freshly adorned slippers, protection pants, kaghoule, and dressing gown, and got the kettle on, taking this snap of the morning view. Nice!

Carer arrived as I was struggling to start the computer, sat down, and used his mobile phone. Then gave me the medications at the computer chair and asked: “You want Tea?” I explained, ‘Not now, thanks, until I get the computer on properly.’ I was going through a different routine of trying all 5 methods available, but in a different order, and I don’t want to lose where I was with it. Two minutes later, I asked for a mug of tea and got bikkies to dunk in it. No answer. I repeated my request, but it was ignored again as he was on his mobile. Annoyed, I said, “I don’t like to disturb you”. In a louder voice, “I’ll get the tea myself!” And I did. He meandered into the kitchen… “I do that!” And he did. Then went back to his mobile phone. He emptied the pouch and recorded the volume, and went back to his mobile.

Corel Sodding Draw was playing up again, so I had to shut it down at the plug, give it a few minutes and reboot. Had to redo the work I’d done that hadn’t been saved, and do it again. Then save it as another name. Having to delete some stuff again to make memory to do so. And still I’ve not heard anything from the computer man Asif arranged for.

I got some pod peas done and in the slow cooker to have later with a tin of soup, maybe. The fridge is still getting soaked in water, and I’m a bit worried about this.
Sorry here, but time has beaten me again, a few memories I recall and photographs only form here, or I’ll never get caught up. Not that I expect to, anyway. But no… I love doing it, even into the early hours.
Tried to save CorelDraw work… Not enough memory! So had to delete more stuff to make room again to save the CorelDraw graphic. Fed-upedness-Fred dawned to keep company.
Closed down everything, and went to get my teeth done, a stand-up wash, a shave, and medicated. Carer Ezra arrived as I was finishing. He cleaned my back for me, got me dressed, and slippered. Did a body check as he dressed me. Medicating Shaking-Shoulder-Shirley, and Fractured Knee Frank. So nice to see Ezra or Mizra arrive. Caring lads. I turned on the computer and the TV just to take this photo. I got a blast of pain from the urine flowback as Ezra left. Worried without the new painkillers, if it’s another no sleep just pain night, I’ll be a wreck in the morning, and if the flowback continues, I’ll be in a bad way. I pray that the Doctor will send me some heavy-duty painkillers, especially with Anne Gyna being troublesome as well. Cragnangles!
Missed this snap I took earlier today. The pain is affecting my concentration. Genuinely fretting about it kicking off so early in the day tonight. I must stop moaning, I lose my followers, they must all be fed up with it… I’m fed up with it. I apologise to both of them.

Had a seizure or two today, this one just after I’d taken these two, rather decent shots of the evening sky, well, I thought they were. Hehehe!
Even the skies seem pissed-off lately. Still beautiful, mind you. The end of days is coming. No point in denying it. The way the world is going, these days indicate, no, shout it out.

Carer Mirza called. I’d got the nosh all ready to cook, so that saved him some time. Painkillers, well, not really Paracetamol, imitation painkillers given.

Easy Meal.
Can of veg soup with a packet of fresh peas added, and some light soy sauce. Milk roll bread to dunk, this was very nice.
Now, Friday morning, at 07:06hrs, I just paid my fourth visit to the . Why? You’d have thought eating a can of vegetable soup could affect the rear-end so violently?

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