Inchie Today: No Carer arrived for Escort to Surgery Visit

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Mon to Wed 16th SEPTEMBER 2026
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I stirred back into mock life, to be greeted by the acidic upsurge from the innards. So, I knew easily that I’d had seizures during the night. But didn’t fret; that’s not unusual, as Tom Jones sang. What happened next was that I awaited the foul taste in my mouth and nasal throat to clear. Seconds later, a bubbling escapage of wind from the rear end literally forced me into agony mode, as the wet wind began to move, bubblingly, of its own accord. I’d have no choice but to get out of bed; no time for any balancing exercises. Just grabbed a stick and hobbled in a painful wobble to get to the toilet in time… I’ve been so lucky these last few days, somehow avoiding an embarrassing leakage situation.  
Not today, though. I’ll not go into detail, other than to say it took yonks to get the wetroom furniture, myself and the stinking mess on the floor cleaned up.
There was a little surprise for me when I eventually got back to the bed. On the decrepit, shuddering computer chair was a purple bed throw. Bearing in mind my urgency in having to get to the toilet, how, why did I go the opposite way to throw the throw where I threw it? I’m aware this shouldn’t have bothered me, but for an unknown reason, it bugged me. Thought I’d mention it.
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Asda food arrived. Not a lot. I noticed I’d purchased three jars of Marmite and already had half of a jar of Marmite on the counter. I could do with some help… the neurologist was keenly uninterested. The social worker showed no interest, and the Doctor didn’t answer when I explained my situation with numbers and food-ordering excesses. Ah, that might come up at the urgent meeting she asked me to book, which I did five weeks ago. I’m going to it next Tuesday, no… Wednesday. I think she mentioned that the results of the mental tests from Haywood House needed to be talked over.
I’m waffling awfully well this evening.
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I took this snap through the balcony, then set about getting jobs done, in case the back gets any worse later. (It did!) I sorted the waste bins into one big bag.– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
Mostly, or muchly, guesswork from here on. May be out of order, as indeed my body and mind were for three days and still are. Lack of balance, hospital, Doctors, District nurses. Lymphoedema in both legs; now leaking lymph-water. Struggling to walk, massive headaches of unknown origin, and two sleepless danged nights. My back pain got even worse. I didn’t think this was possible, but they did. Sitting and standing up are the worst bits.
Then the Carer’s failure to supply and escort me again on Wednesday to the Doctors. That put the cap on it all. More later, if I don’t forget.
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A little low here
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Food…
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Lowest ever start to any week!
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Brekkers… to go out of date
Afternoon nibbles
Spuds in crockpot; to use when me and the Carer get back from the Doctor’s…
But, of course, he didn’t arrive…
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Getting to surgery was the main inent,
Failure and bad luck; both allicient…
A 6-week wait for this appointment,
No communication, nowt accordant,
Waiting for the Carer Escort…
Needed to get me dressed,
Socks, shoes on; he never arrived,
No Care came, can’t apprehend…
I awaited arrival; it never happened,
I was rescued by Frank and Jenny…
Frank called, shoes on & dressed me,
Whilst Angel Jenny called me a taxi,
Frank got me in the lift, & frankly…
To the taxi we had to hurry,
I soon arrived at the Doc’s surgery,
Going into the building hurriedly,
I tumbled, gaining another injury,
Falling over my walker-trolley…
My language turned diderpecatingly,
Turning to sort of self-derogatory,
Rescued by patients, expediently,
Staff moved me into another area,
Their help? Like a breath of fresh air,
They sat me in a higher-seated chair,
Went into a seizure then and there,
Woke up, scratching my buccula,
Where was I? Ah, the Doctor…
Couldn’t have woken me up gentler,
To her office, lacking much acumen,
Feeling in need of an adaptogen,
Mixing reality of the flowing Aufgaben,
Forget most that she said, as it was spoken,
Comprehending? I turned abecedarian,
She suddenly said, here comes your Carer,
Not a word to me or me or the Doctor,
My concentration got worse, even iffier,
Farewells; we left the surgery minutes later,
Taxied home, got home minutes after,
A day of perplexity, complexity, ill-fated…
… adversity, calamity, & misadventure,
Carer shot off to his next customer,
Jenny rang me moments later…
Worried at my late return, bless her,
So much, she’d rang the hospital,
Then my Carers. My Guardian Angel, 
Asked why there was no escorting Carer,
Was informed that nobody had told her,
Asked for a Carer to get me from the Doctor,
This explains his late arrival,
These details may be anachronistical,
A mistake, error, fib? No accusing…
A day to do without, all the bumfuzzling,
I’m left in a state so confusing,
Bruised, battered & back-aching,
Blood pressure ever decreasing,
Pride, confidence dwindling…
Being forgotten again; appalling,
But I avoided hospitalisationing,
That’s next week, and exciting!
I’ve an appointment for lasering…
on the cataract, well I’m hoping…
Will the Carer again go missing?
Hope that I’m not overcomplaining,
My head bemused, my body aching,
No light in the tunnel, only darkening,
No signs of good luck approaching,
Hopes of going in a home helping,
Fading; time for relinquishing…
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At least I did make a half-decent meal. Although I did find a little mould on the non-better buttered bread. Lovely mushroom pâté. Tasteless Spanish tomatoes. I undercooked potatoes again (Tsk!)And, true to my decent droppages increasing, I dropped the pot of lemon cheesecake, and it burst open… not as bad as it might have been; it landed in the waste bin, saving a Hell of a mess to clean up on the carpet. Am I in line for some good luck? What a stupid thing to say!
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TTFN
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OUT of MEMORY