I thought I’d look back, on my victories
Bear with me; these are hard to find…
At birth, I lived through Mother’s fag ash dropping on me,
I had Double-Pneumonia at the age of three,
Sister Jane was almost adopted, to Italy, she did flee,
Brother Pete, escaped, good for him, went in the army,
Mother running away, the police wanted her, you see,
Which left just poor old Dad and me,
Doing the cleaning, shopping, and two paper-rounds, that was Inchy!
I survived being thrown in the Nottingham Canal,
Clinging to a barge rope, without much hope,
I was rescued by Brain, a neighbour, and a real pal,
Hauled out, was taken home, full of hope,
Got a belting off of Dad, and scrubbed with carbolic soap!
Jane away in Italy still,
Life was for us both, a bitter pill,
We’d both had our sad times, but still,
I started work, bought a bike that would go uphill!
Duodenal ulcer, Anne Gyna I acquired easily enough,
Got shot at work, and a new heart fitted,
Fron flat to flat, I flitted,
Got made redundant, Cancer zapped, not fritted,
Job searching failed, hopes, attritted,
My desires, faith, and plans buffetted!
Then along came Peripheral Neuropathy ailment,
Jane, back from Australia, accompanied me,
To and from the hospital, she was heaven sent!
Then the stroke, I was a broken bloke,
Months in care, after the stroke,
Slowly, recovery began to cloak,
Bits of the old Inchcock, showed, bespoke,
And I knew something more would wroke!
Then the diabetes was found,
And things got worserer, all around,
When Saccades-Sandra, was also found!
But, my hopes and aspirations remain,
Although I am no longer sane,
I’m ready for the challenges again…
I just wish there was a little less pain!
I fang you!
02:25hrs: Woke up wanting a wee-wee. wrenched my mass from the wickedly uncomfortable recliner, and wearily walked wobblingly to the wet-room and wee’d. (Another day of repeated PMD (Pre-Micturition-Dribble), and AMD (After-Micturition-Dribble, wee-weeing).
Waddled to the kitchen. When I turned the light on, Saccades Sandra was so annoyed at the flashing and blinking marathon that followed, until the tube actually lit up properly. This brought on Dizzy Dennis as well! Grumblecronkackers! 
I got the Health-Checks carried out. The SYS had shot up again. Took the morning medications and made a brew of Thompsons Punjana tea. By the time this was all done, Saccades-Sandra and Dizzy Dennis had both calmed down. 
Earhole temperature, 33.4°c. 
I dropped the wooden stirrer, got the long picker-upperer to retrieve it, and noticed that the legs looked exactly (to me, anyway) like they did yesterday morning. 
churning, and short stabs of mild pain? I anticipated that a rush to the Porcelain Throne would soon be needed. But, no! Not yet. 
The pins and plates looked like they are going to burst out with some Clopidogrel allergy blotches, lumps, and welts again soon. The Deep vein Arterial Thrombosis, Spider veins, Thrombophlebitis swelling, and the maculations could be returning as well. 
I checked the availability of the ingredients for making Josie’s meal. Made up a couple of small black waste bags. Then made a brew and took a photo of the late morning view. No sunshine, but it did show through occasionally. 
Here is a photo of my Xyrophobia suffering, over amour propred Brother-in-law Pete, who searched my flat while I was in the hospital with the Stroke, and took all my cash and valuables. He could not resist the playing about with the recliner controls either! Now th
e chair longer works! Hehehe! True! Now the lads having to have Radiology Treatment for his Cancer, and he sent me this photo of his lost hair each time he has a shower! He’s keeping his sense of humour, I’m proud of him for that. Keep your chin up. Pete! It’ll be easier than it is for me, I’ve got three-chins to keep up! Hahaha! 
Bit of a memory blank here. I recall delivering the meal to Josie. The next thing was sitting down, feeling a little queasy. Then I sort of came around and was serving up my plate?