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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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