Inchy’s Ode: Friday 20th June 2025

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My thoughts tend at times to do aerobatics,
It considers itself something of an anthologist,
Memory-Mangling-Malcom: Thus memories missed,
Or shared, swapped, or lost in the mist…
One may reclaim an iota, or some missing bits,
Then new ideas are lost or dismissed,
Mingled with mystery, abstrusest,
Facts glean different interpretations,
Resulting in aberrations, in addition, anon…
Confusion deepens when I recall the first one,
Forget the next one, this brings doubt, mistrust,
A selection of fears, worries and angsts,
Time lost, and the urgency gets overstressed…
One moment you are at the day’s angriest,
Sweat under the armpits, concentration flits,
Frustration, followed by getting depressed,
All you can do is what you deem your best…
Then Anne Gyna kicks off, all over your chest!
Reminding you of Grizelda’s hairy breasts,
Our lamented mutually-loved entangling trysts,
Oh, how I miss those physical exercises…
Gone forever – wanting to cut your wrists…
Like each and all self-controvertists,
You dig out memories and eroticise,
Wondering if this is really wise?
Recall your hatred of Starmer & graffitists,
Am I a sort of inspirationist?
Is it time to metamorphosise?

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05:00hrs: I stirred.

A lovely light shade.

I thought it would be a good idea to try to get the front room tidied & cleaned bit.
It still looks the same.

Cut up some tomatoes and put them in the fridge for later on, salted.

Joe checked the neurologist’s text message. And got it up on screen (the letter). It turned out that the appointment is for November.

Carer Ejaz then Joe took photos of Leslie’s leg and ankle with lymphorrhoea throughout the day.
The District Nurse came to change the dressing. She seemed concerned about the fluid-filled growth above the ankle joint and took a photo to send to Matron Julie for assessment.
Ejaz’s inside of the ankle.

Showing early hours of the ankle fluid swelling, and the tape that Ejaz added to keep the pad on.

After the nurse had been. The fluid-filled sac is obvious and a little larger now.
A fresh treatment pack was put on.

While Carer Joe was here, I had a seizure. Joe said it lasted for just a few minutes. Then, took this photo as I was writing on the memory notepad.
Minutes later, the seizure arrived.
As I got up from the chair, the after effects of this seizure had me over, another tumble. I lurched on my way down, landing on the c1966, £300 Oxfam charity shop-bought, whincingly grotty, beige-coloured, crumb-covered from my nocturnal nibbling, itch-making, uncomfortable, positively unhealthy, and dangerous, no longer operational, virus-breeding, easy-to-fall-out-of, catheter-tube-trapping recliner.
A smidge shook up. I should have left it a little longer before getting up after being out of it?

Joe will be off for two days now. Not a pleasant thought at all. He’s saved the day so many times this week, I fear for myself over the weekend. But the lad needs his breaks. Got a wedding to go to as well. I love photos of Pakistani weddings, the joy, the colour, and the celebrations!

I spent many hours on the blog, and it seems to get nowhere with it. I’m still on it now, Sat morning.

Nice!

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FARE THEE WELL, EACH!
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