Inchie Today: Saturday 4th July 2026

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SATURDAY 4th JULY 2026
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LAST NIGHT’S WONDERFUL SUPPER
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Maybe more of a verbal ramble,
  My thoughts were not refereeable,
Many errors, mistakes, regrettable,
Faults flowed, most non-reminisable,
My WC visits, all reminiscentable,
Many problems… none resolvable,
Two new ones, financial & rectal,

My mobile is no longer rechargeable,
I found one Accifauxpa, reprehensible,
Left my fungal lesion looking rhizoidal,

The new Catheter got in a tangle,
Hope you don’t find this too recremental!
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Just thought I’d use this old photo from 2018.
To warn anyone from using this crap company.
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Inchcie Today: Friday 3rd July 2026

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FRIDAY 3rd JULY 2026
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Yet another bad night for sleep, well, for staying asleep. Always waking up.
I needed the Porcelain Throne, and almost went over getting there. My balance was bad, and the swollen toes, feet, and legs made things feel worse. Constipation is in charge on this first visit. But it was the only one that way, and I took the four more visits in two hours. Each one is getting a degree even sloppier, wetter, splashier and stinkier. They stopped quite sharply. Hope that the trots don’t start again later, if I can encourage, bribe, or beg the Carer to take me to Sherwood for bread, tomatoes, lemon wafers, and, most vital, get some cash to pay the window cleaners, toenail cutter, etc., who won’t take the card.
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8: 10hrs, Carer Mizra arrived. He noticed the things I’d knocked over and dropped earlier, while I was making up the bottles of mineral water mixed with soda water, on the floor. Cleaned, picked them up without my having to ask. He’s a good help. Medications given, shoulder Phorpained, my privates barrier creamed. Catheter emptied and colour & amount recorded. I asked Carer Mirza to turn on the booster button on the metre in the outer hallway on his way out.
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Throne visit number seven, the last of the day, was just water with bits in it. Oh, the stink – Cor!

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Midday Carer arrived. I asked how long he was doing this visit, in case it was being done as catch-up for an hour & a half, but that didn’t come again. One hour, he said, after consulting his beloved, nearly always in use, mobile. I launched a forceful appeal for him to escort me into Sherwood for food and cash. He went on his mobile and then asked if we would have time to get it done. 

I said, if we rush, you can help me dress; we’ve 20 minutes before the bus is due. 
I could not find my pair of trousers! But realised we did not have time to look for them, and wore a khagoule with a coat over it. Getting the shoes onto my swollen toes and feet was agony! But he got them on okay. Then we went as quickly as I could walk with the walker, through the other two complexes to the bus stop. He was well ahead of me; just as well I didn’t have a seizure or take a tumble.
I just told him the bus would be here in ten minutes, and he got up, muttered something, and started walking back to the flats. I shouted out ‘No!’ and he turned, saying he had left his bag in the flat and was going to collect it. I pointed out that it was not a good idea to go into the flat while I was not there, and walked all the way back with him. He got his bag, and we returned to the bus stop as the bus was arriving. You know why I did this. We got on the bus, a close call.
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Down to the bottom of Winchester Hill, I told him when to press the stop button. Got off the bus, good job he was there, else I’d have taken a tumble getting off the bus.
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We walked up to the Ozan store to use their ATM outside. I pointed out that while he’s chasing ahead, would he know if I’d had a tumble or. Like on an earlier visit, I had a seizure and walked into the road, making a bus jam its brakes on and panicking the people around me. As Ejaz explained when I recovered from the seizure. He was not yards ahead of me and physically pulled me back. 

Thanks, Ejaz. It did nothing, he carried on walking too fast for me to catch up. Outside the store, after we realised the ATM was not there, I asked him again not to
rush ahead. After this, he stayed closer to me. 
We plodded on to the JS shop and used their ATM. Then walked back to the Ozan Continental Store, and did a bit of shopping. He was rushing me a little. I
think he was nervous that we’d take too long. Understandable.
I purchased some lemon wafers, Brown tomatoes, two bread rolls, and a red onion, then went to the delicatessen and got a pack of sliced Kielbasa and Krakowska. Then, at the serving counter, four thick-cut slices of Boczek. With all the hurrying, it took a
way the rare pleasure of browsing of the shelves to compare and make choices.
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We hobbled back to Winchester Street, and there were so many police emergency vehicle horns and klaxons heard. The Carer said eight at least.
At the bus stop, the sign said the 40 bus would arrive in ten minutes. The Carer sat on the fag-ends, leaves, twigs & food waste covered filthy pavement and took out his mobile.
The bus arrived 15 minutes late; obviously, to me, the police incident must have taken place somewhere on the bus’s route, I assumed. We got back to the flat, Carer in a bit of a state at being late, sorry about that. I asked him to get my shoes off, nothing else, so he could get the bus to his next client. 
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All the hobbling seems to have affected the legs and feet; all were far less swollen than when I started out on the little trip. Yet they hurt far more than before. A lot more.
I was so hungry that I put the food away, all but what was needed for my snack. Cut the two bread rolls in half. The finger didn’t bleed too much.

Loaded both sides with my favourite No-Butter-Butter. Two slices of meat, sliced tomatoes added, and salted the tomatoes a little. I just knew I was going to like these! The smell! 😋 
Let the tomatoes sink in while I had a quick wash, put them in the baking tin, and devoured them slowly, appreciatingly; lip-smacking-tasty!
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I put the tray down and fell into a deep sleep.

Woken first, by a telephone call from Sister Jane. I must remember to send her an email on Saturday.
I couldn’t believe how tired that little trip had made me.
Also, getting out of the recliner to answer the phone, the dropsies returned. I dropped and trod on, crushing a biscuit, making a mess on the carpet. Knocked the toothpaste-tincture off of the counter. Call-over, I dropped my walking stick, knocking the open tub of biscuits, to join the single crushed one. 
Cleaned the mess up; finding out that the back, shoulder, neck, toothache, feet, leg and left knee pains had all returned with a vengeance. After finishing the cleaning, I took an Oxicodone & Codeine.  
Back into the bed this time. I could do nothing else, the computer was not opened until late Saturday morning.
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I was woken up by the man door chime, quickly followed by the landline chirping. I struggled out of bed, limping, and even more painfully, to the front door, but nobody was there. The phone stopped ringing.

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The doorvhime burst into life again. I was not in any condition mentally or physically to communicate with the ICC lady & Carer, and then my Carer came in. Confusion:
I think they brought some medications and took some away. They could not have timed it better; that’s all I can remember of the visit, and I am not certain I got this right. Drained and in pain.
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This time I got down in the c1966, £300 Oxfam charity shop-bought, wincingly grotty, beige-coloured, crumb-covered from my nocturnal nibblings, itch-making, uncomfortable, positively unhealthy, and dangerous, no longer operational, virus-breeding, easy-to-fall-out-of, catheter-tube-trapping recliner. Dropped of quickly.
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Carer Mizra woke me up. I vaguely recall talking to him, but I don’t recall any other details. 

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Nodded off again, for 7 hours! Good for me.

Waking up at 06:0hrs Saturday…
Cruelly, in absolute agony!

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Inchy Today: Wed/Thurs 1st-2nd July

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Inchies’ Ode to his legs and feet
Left leg thinner, right one bigger,
Right knee okay, left one even benter,
Both feet swollen, hurtful & bloated,
My limbs are going multicoloured,
The brain? Getting lackadaisicalalised,
My toes bent, swollen and warped,
She’s stopped calling me, my toenail cutter,
Can’t find another, but my savings wither,
No long calls this week from any Carer,
My need for the ATM is getting seriouser,
The world is on its way to being extirpated,
Who gets all he needs? Only an Oligarcher,
Life? Never
balanced, levelled, or equated,

One  gets depressed and so frustrated,
Never getting cared for or compensated,

Medical needs get hampered and hindered,
Robots, AIs, reality; humanity absconded,
Never have so many felt aporia…
Never so many are getting poorer,
The same can be said of dysphoria,
Such disrespect for the ass, the law,
The old, abandoned, get more austere,

Living with no hope, just fear!
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MOANING TIME
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The Carer phoned the EENT number for QMC Hospital, Nottingham. As they had asked me to schedule an appointment for the pre-op Cataract test. I had a seizure while having the first one and spent the night in Cardiac. They told him to ring back later or next week. After he’d gone, I gave it a go but checked the number again to ensure I’d got the right one. Google gave me the extension: 81111. So I rang the switchboard and pressed 81111 when instructed; it was engaged. I tried again later; it was engaged. One more try, and I got to a human for the first time. Who told me I’d rang the wrong number? Ring the switchboard and ask them for the extension. Which I’d done earlier. It got confusing then as she gave me the 81111 extension to ring. This is the ENT’s number, not the eye specialist’s. This is a photo I took the last time I went there.
Clearly stating EYE, Ear, Nose and Throat Centre.
Can the NHS really be getting this bad? Yes!

Mind you, they were four months ago, after my seizure visit. While being uncertain if I had finished the examination, due to the seizure. I asked a Carer to ring them and ask whether I have to book again. Whichever lady answered him, he asked my query and told:
“They know what they are doing!” But I didn’t.
Four months later, I get the email to call them to book again. But still I can’t get through again!
ANOTHER FAILURE
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Then, in response to a Red Cross text, telling me this is a Health & Safety issue and that the electrician has to call to do Safety Checks (on the hospital bed they loaned me). The Carer rang them today. They had no information about this. She offered an appointment for 8th July, which clashed with my wait of 7 weeks to see the Doctor. Best ring back again next week? Despite the reference number being revealed. 

ANOTHER FAILURE
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Then, while doing the Ode, the computer froze on me. The new week-old computer that I cannot urge the repairman who bought and fitted it, and took his money, to come back to look at it.

ANOTHER FAILURE
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No wonder I get Depressed.
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Got the Ode done, and food arrived. Followed an hour later by another food delivery from a different store.

ANOTHER FAILURE
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Better get a stand-up wash & shave.
ANOTHER FAILURE
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THURSDAY 2nd JULY
Another night of waking up with a jump.
Around 04:00hrs, I felt the need for the Porcelain Throne. I gingerly got out of the bed and hobbled nervously to the wet room. My balance was all over the place. As was expected with my swollen toes, feet and legs. I took two sticks with me and got there with plenty of time to spare. And stayed there on the Throne for a long time. Constipation Conrad was in full charge. Still, no mess to clean up. The piles bled a fair bit, and it was painful to urge the one torpedo-shaped mass, which hit the water with a clunk, leaving about 30% sticking out of the water. I was glad to get rid of that one. Got back into bed at 04:30hrs and nodded of easily again.
04:50hrs, I sprang awake in need of another evacuation. No doubt about it, this one was not going to come out in the same mode, because it was already coming of its own accord, into my Protection Pants!
I was concerned that I might not be able to stop the flow before getting there. But somehow I did, thankfully. Talk about opposites. This motion was all done and dusted in about 30 seconds. Took a while to clean myself up. I cannot get the PP’s on myself easily, and tore them a little, but got them on after washing things; me and the basin. Back into the bed, now with the back & shoulder hurting, from the battle to get the pants on. Settled again at around 0520hrs. I’d not even got back to sleep, and another flower-up was on its way! Fumbled as quickly as I could manage, making it with seconds to spare. Very splashy and runny. Again, it was all over very quickly. Heck of a mess to clean up again. I stayed in the wet room, thinking I’d have a shave, then be prepared for any action. But those plans were hijacked when I realised the hot water wasn’t even warm. So, I pressed the booster button on the meter and got back into the hospital bed yet again.
This time I nodded off easily… for about 15 minutes, 
Then another torrent needed dealing with. I reckon this was a fourth in 2 hours. I was sure I’d not make it in time… And I didn’t.
Self-lambasting, swearing, and frustration flowed.
The actual evacuation took about ten seconds, virtually all water, more than any brown stuff. Sorting the mess out took me yonks. I tore off the PPs, but it was too painful to bend to get a new pair on. So I put on my thin dressing gown and returned to the bed about 0650hrs. I lay thinking what might have caused all these follow-up torrents, especially after the initial bum-bursting bomb. The only thing I could think of was that maybe my having the two pots of noodles yesterday, morning and evening, may have played a part? I actually fell asleep again.  
I heard the doorbell’s 🎶Oh Suzanna🎶chime playing, but I must have heard it after it had been going for a while, cause it stopped as I tried to get out of the bed.
Carer Mizra came in; lovely to see him. He’s been doing early and late calls this week. Ejaz has only done one call this week. Damned good job, too. The other two bully boys are making my life a misery. If only they would send Ejaz & Mizra like they used to. The extended visits I’m paying for on Tue and Wed did not come. But the charges are the same. Another one on Saturday might come. Then I can get some money from the ATM to pay a toecutter and a window cleaner… if I’ve got enough left in my account, of course. 
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ONWARDS In short…

Today’s Cartoon
The much got into & out of bed
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Today was a mix of good, bad and lousy
But I spent most of it trying to catch up on my Odes word list.

I got carried away with it. I don’t know why I’m bothering. I won’t live long enough to do all the lost work, thanks to the new computer not working properly. Yet another aspect of my luck and the mysteries of Woodthorpe Court, with the hobgoblins, spectres, gnomai, phantasms, ghosts, the grotesque succubae, extraterrestrials, ectoplasms, and spirits. Receptive Aphasia Phyllis, Paroxysmal dyskinesia, Episodic ataxia, Ménière’s disease, Dark, Deep, Depressing Duncan, Peripheral Neuropathy Pete, Nicodemus Neurotransmitters Dying, Glaucoma Gladys, Stuttering Stephany, Lymphorrhea Leslie, Premorbid Cognitive Impairment, the damned seizures, or the Fata Morganas. The problems with British Gas & Virgin Media. The EENT, A&E, Neurology, Urology, Red Cross, the Catheter, Doctors, and a six-week wait for appointments. That have been sent to taunt, irritate and terminate my already limited sanity of mind. My faith, health, and logicality were already on the wane.
Just thought I’d mention it. Hehehe!
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GREAT SURPRISE!
Matron Jackie came with a trainee Nurse to see me today. Someone who cares and listens. It gave me a lift.

Especially when the Navigator I phoned about my right leg told me I am not on record as having problems. Contact your Doctor. Which, I admit, got to me. After waiting 5 weeks for the earliest available appointment, the earliest available appointment is next week. Wednesday, 15th July, I have a longer list of problems than ever, and she will never have the time for me to read them to her. Originally, my swollen right leg and painful right shoulder were on the list. Now added are the Catheter farce, lack of advice, told to go to A&E straight away in a taxi, as it is a Medical Emergency when your Catheter blocks. So, first, there is a £30 cost of a taxi there and back. The one visit I made was caught in a traffic jam on the ring road, and it cost me £25.40. I struggled to find the £30 in the first place; now I didn’t have enough to get home. I worried before the 5-hour wait to see the Doctor.
Medical Emergency?  

I explained all this to Matron. Who did something amazing – She listened to me! Bless Her!
She sorted out the Catheter, making sure the night bag fits this old Catheter.
Then suggested that I take a ‘Respite Visit’ to a home.
After mentioning all the things, appointments coming, and those not sorted, BG, EENT. I’ve emailed Jenny a copy of the PALS replies to my complaints. Bless her for her help & support.
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SMB-PALS
(NOTTINGHAM UNIVERSITY HOSPITALS NHS TRUST)
Good morning, We’ve raised your concerns with the senior management of the departments.

PALS have also requested that the relevant team contact the patient directly to discuss this further.
Please let us know if you do not hear from the team within 10 working days, and we can chase as necessary.

Kind regards,
Aparna

Aparna Sajeevan (she/her)
PALS Officer

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Looking good. They are contacting Senior Management at the Hospital Trusts, and if I don’t hear from them within two weeks, they will follow up again!
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Carer Mizra said he would try to give me a shower in the morning. Great lad Mizra, as is Ejaz, but they seem to be… no, have reduced their visits to me. This did not work out I’m afraid. I had another series of terrible Trotsky Teremce Torrents

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BONUS OLD CARTOON

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Inchie Today: Tuesday 30th June 2026

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Tuesday 30th June 2026
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I had a chat about my telangiectasias veins, which were showing up on the tops of my feet. Of course, with my mouth being at the other end of my overweight, elephantine body, I could not hear what the spider-veins were saying back to me… if, indeed, they were replying. It gave me a wee feeling of being wanted. Timothy’s Telangiectasias have not visited me for months and months. I reckon they heard from either Neuropathy Pete or TBI about how much things went right today for two hours, then I discovered poor Little Inchie embedded in the deep red growth from the fungal lesions’ waste, which was almost as hard, maybe as hard as a diamond. They knew my fear of going back to the hospital to have things looked at. 
I can stay in the flat to be ignored, put down, bullied, and depressed, without paying £15 either way for a taxi. Come to think of it, I haven’t got enough cash anyway. No long-call Carer came today. (Nothing new about that) They missed one or two last week as well. So that was another chance to get down to the shops and use the ATM lost. If only some of them could understand my problems. I’d have more chance of climbing Mount Everest backwards using only one leg and arm than getting that. Tsk!

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But that’s enough of this good news…
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Nae, I joke, here is really good news!
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I’m afraid my scribblings have been rather poorish, well, terrible really. Do my bestest.
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Up at 0600hrs. Pouch off and emptied, very, very carefully.

Hoovered, and off to the Porcelain Throne. Bit of a bloodied Constipation Conrad battle.
At least cleaning things up was much easier than of late.
Then I stripped off, had a shave, did the teggies, and saw the state of poor Little Inchy. It looked like a live growth around Little Incy’s lesions and the tube entry point. I put some Dettol in the warm flannel and tried to gently ease of the growth. But, no! I was unbelievably solid and rock hard. I managed to get a tiny bit off, but it hurt like Hell.

I examined it with the reading glasses on… on me, not the growth. Hehe! I concluded that it must have been a mixture of blood, urine, and barrier cream. This was heartbreaking in a way at the time. Because Carer Mirza had arranged an assisted shower for me this morning. The first one in many weeks. I decided that, with the tube-array gripper now completely off, I would be taking too much of a risk by showering.

Along with the mass of whatever it was hanging loose and liable to block things, I’m a little nervous. Seeing the Doctor next week. Making up a list of my problems.
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Mirza took photos of the Catheter problems.

He took one for the Doctor of Little Inchies crusted, like cement, blood & urine mess found this morning.😡
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The bottom (Do not remove without using Alcohol) sticky tube array holder that was stuck on my thigh has now fallen off, leaving an unreadable rectangular bit that was on top of the lost securing disc.
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Not up to much, now.
A full page, the last page of notes, that I was trying to decipher, beat me. Tiredness, frustrations, and worry had got to me. I cannot believe how bad my writing was.
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