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Another struggle. As you will read below.
Pain, frustration and everything taking so
long to get done. My blog suffers again!
If things don’t improve soon… I’ll sulk!

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This morning’s awakening tales may be the longest bit in the diary.
Horrendous is the word, methinks!

I stirred back into pretend life early; I think it was.

The moment I learnt forward to have a peep at the overnight catheter pouch in the bucket – the started off!

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The urine looked a smidge, like it had blood in it.
I removed the night pouch, gathered the bowl and went to pack away the used bag, visit the Porcelain Throne, and have a clean-up…

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Oh, Heckithump! . The day bag appeared to have clod specs on it. I made sure it wasn’t something stuck to the outside of the pouch… Nope! They were inside! Then I deposited some evacuated waste from the rear end…
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BACK TO SQUARE ONE AGAIN!

Not only was Little Inchy bleeding from the tubing now the rear end was bloodied as well. Just as it was four weeks ago when I first realised I had a problem with the urine infection, and ended up at the Queens Medical A&E and the for two days.
Still, no panic yet. I’m seeing the Doctor in the morning. Initially to get advice on what the has decided needs doing, and have told the Doctor about my condition.
It’s all go here, with nothing happening… apart from being in pain for four weeks without any break. You don’t like to complain, do yer?

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I’m not sure why I took this picture.

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These poor-quality shots were taken.
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Tried this one again…
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Ah, well, a little better, mayhap.

Messy kitchen.
Messy kitchen with the light switched on.

When called, the catheter day bag, after being emptied half an hour before, was at bursting point! It’s getting that red tinge to it again it.

Yet three hours later, this is all it had amassed?
Getting confusing this is…

I made an order with Ocado. As I told on his next call,
I took my time and made sure I ordered it for the right day this time… A temporary We’ll see?

Getting a little hungry now as the light begins to fade.

As I settled to get the early meal, having abandoned blogging.
I (Well, Little Inchie too!) was just in so much pain; tired and knowing I had the appointment in the morning, was determined to get the best proper session possible done. And bravely (Haha!) opted to have a good shower, despite .
But first, the meal… I took a bite of one of the potato-rostis and realised that the dark centre blotches on each one were not BBQ sauce at all!. I spat out the spud. And put the rest in the bin straight away. Which sort of ruined the feast completely!
After eating what was left, a . I got the packaging from the waste bin and used the magnifying glass to find and see the use-by date… Ahem! Oh, dearie me!
January 18th!
BOING!

The session went wellish… apart from…
① Another mini-chunk was broken of a bicuspid.
② Three cuts shaving…
③ Dropped the razor three times, retrieved using the picker-upperer
④ The top grip on snapped off in the shower!
⑤ That cost me half an hour putting right… well…
⑥ I dropped the shower head…
⑦ Landed right on my
⑧
⑨ : Dropped the olive oil bottle, didn’t break, but me took ages to clear it up, and then started!
⑩ : Ran out of Daktacort to stop Little Inchie bleeding!
     However, on the bright side…
, No , or attacks! I was also free of routines! , the, were kind to me, too! only toyed with me for a minute or two. And ‘s visit was the shortest ever! No shower power box head-butting, and NO TUMBLES!
So, overall, I reckon I got off lightly this morning! Erm, I mean tonight!

Arrived as I was finishing getting dressed and preparing things to take with me to the doctor’s visit. He got the medications given to me and to use attached the day pouch. Adjusting the loose straps for me. Bless him!
He checked the taps and cooker, and all were okay.
The lad was very tired and swearing a lot. Not that this stops him from caring for me in detail: He reminded me to ring for a taxi to get to the surgery in the morning. This lad is a good ‘un!
I hobbled, night bag and bowl in hand, stick in the other to the door with him. Said our fare-thee-wells, and I locked the door.

Back in the c1966. charity shop bought, second-hand, wincingly grotty, beige coloured, not working, crumb-covered from the nocturnal nibblings, itch-making, uncomfortable, virus breeding, easy-to-fall-out-of, recliner. Where with the tubing hanging off of my leg, the pouches feeling so cold for some reason, and the leak bowl in position – I had a few moments of indecision; call it wavering, hesitancy, vacillation, irresolution or doubtfulness regarding whether to catch the bus or to order a taxi in the morning. ‘Dithering commenced’.

I wanted to walk, but I’ve not been out on a walk for ages… a chance to prove I can still do it, mayhap? I soon realised that would be too much – then thought about getting the bus down the hill into Sherwood and busing it to Carrington… on the other hand, if I felt okay, I could walk it along Mansfield Road up the hill and down into Carrington. I’ll have the three-wheeled walker with me, so it could work? Or should I use the telephone number that Richard found for me and call a hire car? For some unfathomable reason, this was playing on my mind for hours?

I nearly forgot the evening sunset shot!

Erm… Evening all!