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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 away 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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