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Most of the day went well, reasonably.
Hearing aids to use, painkillers, thankfully.
But turned in Whoopsiedangleploppery,
Frustration, worry, fear, panic, anxiety…
The bulk of these worries were financially,
Last 3 months, bank statements, texted to me,
Each time £1,000 less than the month previously,
I’ll ring, beg for help, but who can help Inchie?
The Tenancy Sustainment Officer, at N.C.C?
Warden Deana was engaged; she’s so busy,
Rang to Security, Safety, Health and Tenancy,
I struggled to speak, being so panicky,
Wrong words spouted, did I sound barmy?
I was losing; no, I lost my longanimity,
Help, from a wizard, or a vodoo-doctor,
A God, a scientist, maybe a soothsayer?
Without help, I do not have a prayer,
Can’t get through my banksite security layer,
They’ve my ten-year-old mobile number,
To which they sent my one-time number,
Yet they send texts to my new number?
As my bank account continues to wither,
AI security installed, it’s no communicator!
Select this or that, what’s needed is not listed!
Independent living scheme Warden Deana,
Responded, she came to the flat, Bless Her…
Two hours trying to log in, then, however,
Due to our utter and complete failure…
To log in, sign in, communicate or register,
And, their AI, or the bank’s customer vilifier,
It came to hometime for dear Deana,
Who did her best, with pleasant demeanour,
I hope I don’t develop toxicomania,
A possibility, if I get any toeier.
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TWO
I discovered how bad my arithmaphobia is getting this morning. I checked the email from Mr Kervic. I’d worked it out that the refund was due by the end of April. So I was concerned about not being able to get into my bank page to check it, hence yesterday’s grand effort by Deana to get me signed in, ans she said she would return after discovering they were sending one-use codes to the wrong mobile. Yet they send me the monthly grand total on the correct number? It’s still important that I get this sorted ASAP. At least I can see why, I think, the balance has dwindled so much. Maybe, perhaps.
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It is now well into Friday afternoon.
Not much of a blog, but I’ve done my best.
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Morning misty clouds.
Right Leg Nigel. Battered right leg, Nigel.
Bloated and or shrunk in many areas, 
damaged due to Loss-Balance-Belinda.
Same Misty Cloud a little later.
A spot of rain now.

Now the failed banking hassle hours.
At least Deana worked out what the problem
was. I’m hopeful she will return today after
another bash at sorting things out for me.

I rang Sister Jane late on. She has been diagnosed as having… Wait for it, A Baker’s Cyst. She told me to look it up on Google, and I did. asked me,
They can get nasty, it seems. I took a snip (below)
Two differing types of them are being removed,
I hope Jane does not have to have hers done!
I’ll have to ask her what the Doctor’s plans are.
CorelDraw gone warped. No graphics.

Could be the end.