Inchie: Tuesday 9th December 2025

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I woke up with persistent jerking in his morning routine to the left routine… right, left, left, left, right, left in progress.
Then the stabbing pains returned as joined the action. No choice but to get up, take some hopefully calming but not very good Peptac, and take Lansoprazole early to get it working faster, and tell the Carer I’ve taken them.
I had to remove the nocturnal catheter pouch first, so as not to tempt fate by walking around with four feet of tube and carrying the pouch. Thus reducing the chances of yet another by tripping over them. The nurse who I was told would come to look at my arm and leg injuries would come on Sunday night or on Monday. Hopefully, she will arrive today.

Then I went to the wetroom to visit the Porcelain Throne. Oh, dear…
Not as sloppy as things have been for the past few days. It started the moment I was seated… it came, and came, and came again. I tried to recall what I had for dinner last night, but my brain was temporarily out of order. And stayed that way all day. And
 It was as bad as he’s been in months; this bothered and hindered me all day long. That said, it cleared a little around 20:30hrs, and I took advantage to start updating this blog. Another hectic day for the old man!

Back on the timeline, I went to the kitchen to take a photo of the view. It was sprinkling with freezing rain, and I thought how dark it was this morning. I checked my ‘Cool’ retro clock calendar to find it was only 04:30hrs, and I’d been up for about half an hour. I cussed myself a smidgeon, fool!
So, I made use of the time I thought I’d got, emptied of crumbs, and washed and dried the glass-and-plastic nibble containers. I’ll get them refilled later.
Was still getting at me, so I took an over-the-counter bought Co-Codomal. I’d dosed up well, and the Carer is going to give me some more later.

I then got the Health Checks done. Recorded them and noticed some things, apart from the SYS being a little high, which is nothing new since I got out of the Hospital on my last stay. My temperature was creeping up, although it had been low, so no problem, methinks. The blood results had gone down a bit this week. The urine was a fair bit deeper in colour. And the Whoopsies & Accidents had increased a lot. Today, I dropped more things than I have for… ever, I think. Also , or to be precise, it was my . The doctors warned me years ago what would happen, and they were spot on. Neurotransmitter imbalances are linked to various neurological and psychiatric conditions, making them crucial targets for treatment. Imbalances contribute to depression, anxiety, Parkinson’s disease, epilepsy, multiple seizures and Alzheimer’s. It’s only this year that I have started letting go of anything I am holding, and, conversely, there are times when I cannot let go of things. Funny really. The above was printed in 1995 by the NHS. (I found it on the web) Since being diagnosed, I was told there is nothing we can do to mend dead nerves, so they didn’t give or offer any treatments. Then, when I had my stroke. Nothing has been done medically since they released me. Then, when the seizures started, nothing had been done. I had one face-to-face meeting with a neurologist, who said he needs a video of me having a seizure before he can assess the safest route to take. Two weeks later, I had one while a Carer was here, and she recorded it. We sent it to the Neurosurgeon, and I felt I’d taken a step towards getting some help now. That was on November 3rd. Still haven’t heard anything back. The other Neurosurgeon on my 3-week visit to the Hospital told me about the water on my brain. Mentioned the chances of a Trephination. I heard nothing more.
A week before being sent back to my cell… I mean, flat, a Doctor came to the bed I was in with a smile on his face. “Well, we resuscitated you…” I must have looked gobsmacked, I was. “You had heart failure… can you not remember?” No! I wondered if he’d come to the wrong bed? No memories of leaving the ward at all.
The help from the social, half promised in the form of finances, a computer, arithmaphobia, and housekeeping didn’t arrive either.
That’s another thing, no help with the depression.
It took me 3 weeks after I’d lost vision in my left eye to get to the optician for an assessment and for him to refer me to the QMC EENT of an evaluation. I believed it was Glaucoma. Why? I’ll tell you… 
When I had the cataract done on my right eye, the surgeon told me I had Glaucoma coming in my left eye. Once you’re over this, we’ll get you booked in for treatment. That was four years ago. So, naturally, I assumed the sudden lack of vision in my left eye was caused by Glaucoma. But, no. The optician said it was cataracts and referred me to the EENT clinic for acceptance. Three weeks later, I got a letter telling me I had been added to the waiting list. If I haven’t heard from them in five weeks, ring them.
Since coming out of the last extended stay in the Hospital after a tumble, I’ve had two more. But they were only visits to the Hospital, no staying in. Last Sunday, I took a tumble. I think a Carer rang the Community nurses. They said someone will call later today, or on Monday morning. A nurse arrived today, Tuesday. I believe that the impaired vision, my now being one-eyed, is making my balance worse, and I’m bumping into more things now. Just thought I’d update you. Hehe! Sorry. 

Staying with me nearly all day today. Could not get a look in today. As if I wasn’t feeling down enough, I had two food orders on the same day, 3 hours apart. I’m scared to open the fridge, it’s that crammed with food. But the social lady is on her way to help me. Huh! I just cannot recall making two orders. The first one, yes. The second, well, no.

The Carer arrived late today, not that I noticed at the time, I’d got stuck into making up the replacement word list. Why? I don’t know, honestly. Yet guilt may have hit me a few times, and I did try to get some jobs done. But did not start the blog until late. It is now well past midnight, and I’ve still got some company.  

As I was taking this snap of the view on offer, the Asda delivery arrived. This was expected, and the Carer helped me get the food to the kitchen, bless her.

A good few bags, I’d loaded up with the bottled water again, to keep plenty in to satiate the demands of the Catheter and bladder. Four litres a day as a  minimum
Sponge fingers. No-butter butter, yoghurts aplenty.
Chestnuts, sourdough sliced bread, Cheesecakes,
BBW skewers and some mini pork pies.
Visciously strong Ginger beer, garden peas, and the sliced bread, with designer cheapo mini Swiss rolls.
Swiss Rolls; Nothing but the best, they may be the cheapest, but who else that Asda go to all that trouble to save you doing it with your teeth as you consume these little delicacies? Please note how they pre-crush these miniature delights for customers. I think I may have overdone it on the cheesy bread rolls and small baguettes. 

I pressed on in a depression, building my new word list. If I can live another twenty years, I might get it done to see me to the magic 100. Hahaha!

I got a phone call, but the line was bad again. It was the Doctor’s surgery, where I was told my INR level had risen but was still within range. Adding to keep to the last Anticoagulation DVT Warfarin Clinic dosage until December 22nd. Any new bruising (When have I ever got any new bruising?) I’ve to report it. I forgot to ask who I had to report it to.

The intercom rang forth: “Hello, hello… what now?” It is not the Carer’s time yet? It was the contract nurse who came to take my blood.

Back to the slow, oh, so slowly being done word list.

The computer froze!
I feared the worst (with my luck, it’s only natural). Despondent, I turned off the computer to give it a rest, while O prayed and made a mug of tea.
I opened the fridge door to get the milk, and a load of food fell out onto the floor.
Including the yoghurts – two burst open and left me a right mess for me to clean up. Grrr!

A painful task with all the bending to get at the dessert that had seemingly made a beeline for the corners to run into, and between the cabinet and the cooker. Still, I wasn’t bothered.

Back to the computer and restarted it, fingers crossed.
Well, it opened, but rather slowly. I opened Excel, then Word; these programmes were even slower in loading. So I used CCleaner and found out the price is going up by 20%. I blame Starmer!
Then I used Norton to clean it again… Well, fancy that. Their costs are rising, and to keep using the cleaner bit on it, I have to pay from now on! 
My eyes, well, eye was feeling the strain of so long on the computer, was getting no better, and now had joined it. At one time, she was so vicious it hurt, but she’d soon had a brief bit of fun, then faded back to the micro-suddering. Thankfully.
Then I opened CorelDraw, and while it was open, I tried to upload the pictures from Kodak Tim 2. Which went okay. After importing them, whenever I moved one, CorelDraw left a duplicate. This left me more depressed than ever. I turned of CorelDraw.

ARRGH! A Second Food Delivery!
It’s doing this so often, and the self-loathing and inability to stop doing it are getting to me. I’ve been promised help with it, but no one has been.
Fried onions, extra strong cheddar cheese (which wasn’t strong at all!), milk, Sokolow sausages, a jar of pickled tomatoes, and bicarbonate of soda. Out of sight, wait for this… Nine one-litre bottles of soda water! More desserts.

Back to the computer, and the Google browser kept closing down of its own accord. All off, and rebooted. Getting nervous now.

I took a break and thought I’d get the cheeses out of the fridge (Carefully) and plan tonight’s meal. I say , “Tonight, it’s already morning.” Much to my further chagrin, I found that one of the Moroccan tomatoes had gone mouldy, and two had gone soft!
Cheese, fried crispy onions, caramelised red onions, and thick sliced sourdough bread, well buttered with no-butter, butter was my plan, if I can stay awake.
A super-salad tonight… well, it would have been, had the Moroccan tomatoes sold as ‘Extra Special’ not tasted like sour liquorice! But I’m afraid they did!
The Extra Mature cheddar was nothing of the sort. The Stilton was super, as was the sourdough bread.
The Polish tomatoes were tastier.

It is now about 03:30hrs, I’ll put the pots in the sink and get down 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, and get some sleep.
But, no, not yet. 
I felt a warm trickling inside of the right leg strappings. No doubt the fluid was coming from dear old , and I had to get the socks off and wash them so they would be dry for the morning to use. But by the time I’d painfully got the leg straps off, and found there was a lot of blood in with the pmpth fluid. So I filled a bowl with hot water and Dettol, and washed the feet. No Carer to help now, and I could not get the other medical socks or the straps back on, too painful a job. I cunningly got some cushion leg bandages and somehow managed to get them on as low as I could reach. And got down with a large quilt of my large-bellied body! Sleep came quickly.

,

TTFN