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Regrettably, my depression lingers on. If things do not improve by tomorrow, my birthday (I was born in 1959… oh, no, that’s when I left school). I will ring the Doctor and then work out how I will get bathed and trousers on, medicated. Then, how to manage to get to the surgery, with the cartilage troubles and this new fandangled, made for someone with 10ft legs Catheter Contraption). I think it is important enough to struggle to get there, though. I’ve never felt so low for so long.

As for today, you tell me. Hahaha!
A few photos were taken to give me prompts.
I must beg her, if necessary, to get me back to the Highbury Hospital about these blanks, seizures, etc., occurring.
I fear, knowing me, my determination, that I think is strong as I write this… Will wain. I’ve done it before. No doubt I need some help. The mess with the changed catcher mess is painful and limits my movement. Stops me from dressing should I need to. The insert plug falling out did my confidence no good. No offers of any help with getting it back in. Then again, maybe someone did offer, and it went off into the ether… this is all worrying stuff about my sanity. I know that a carer helped me with emptying the bag earlier and tried to raise the tapes for me. But, of course, that assists me in getting down to the valve for emptying. But the pee will pee when it wants to nowadays.
Each time I have to reach down so far, either Dizzy Dennis or Balance Loss Brenda appears, and the filthy, incredibly long tube pokes or pulls Little Inchie, according to how full the bag is, and more bleeding starts.
Sorry to be so low, but I can usually control it to a degree. But many things suddenly need attention. From a medical professional, such as a body and/or mind doctor. Now I think about it again, it’s likely frustration more than depression? Huh, now Peripheral Neuropathy Pete’s right leg has started shaking and dancing. 

I think I was not so low when I got up this morning. The Warfarin-DVT nurse came, and I was pretty with it. Talking to her, and I am pretty sure we had a laugh or two, and I enjoyed that.

But she soon sank down again after she had gone, and then Carer Chloe had left the flat. I’m struggling here. Then I have to tackle emptying the minuscule day-wee-wee pouch and elongating over-thick long tubing to empty it.
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Usual dark wee-wee.

Nice dark morning.

Bright lights.

Computer on.

Off to the Porcelain Throne…
He’s only just weakening!

Lighting up.

The Nurse from the… I love this title for a department…
DVT, CCG (DOAC) Anticoagulation Warfarin Clinic rang me. She asked if she could call today, I thanked her and said, ‘Please, please, please, do!’
She did about an hour later. She was amazed when she looked at the catheter contraption, which had the top strap in my crutch and the bottom release valve snuggling on my left slipper. Getting down to release the urine is tantamount to squashing out the six-inch-long black centre of a carbuncle!
“What an absolute mess; no wonder it’s painful. I then mentioned the top-end tube insertion falling out and my weeing myself. That got a laugh! Hahaha!

I selected another ready meal to have later.
A ‘Hearty’ Shepherds Pie. I put the oven chips in on a low light.

ONE MAMMOTH SEIZURE!
One minute, I said cheerio to Carer Chloe. Started on the blog.
Three hours later, it was as if someone had turned the lights back on. Yet, I was cleaning the kitchen sink. How the heck can that be? I found a photo that I can’t recall taking, and when I got back to the computer, what a mess I’d made. I uploaded the wrong day’s graphics and photos; I had to delete and rearrange them. Only to find I’d made the same error again!
Time to call for help tomorrow.

Took this photo later. Eerie clouds, I liked it.

Carer Chris arrived, and I think he may have made the call before. Or someone else did.

Blobble, Gobble, but I’m not sure.

Forgot to take a photo of the meal until I was ¾ of the way through eating it. Not bad.

This last photo looked similar to the one this morning?

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TTFNski!