INCHIE TODAY: Wednesday 1st February 2023

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PROBLEMS ALL DAY LONG!

Total mayhem-problems with the .
I’ll try to explain what they were chronologically. But with so much and farcical situations arising, I did little else all day. Trying to sort out getting the flow to the bag again… and even worse problems. As I hope you will read about; I need some good luck through the ether to me, so I can cope with them a little easier and not get frustrated so much. Not many memory notes on the pad. It all happened so persistently.

I woke feeling myself for the first time in months, peeing away merrily… I thought I was dreaming at first, but no!

The blood and urine mix was all over my clothes, body, and the £300 second-hand shop bought nine years ago, c1966, discomfiting, alarmingly beige-coloured, crumb-containing, TV remote hiding, not working recliner.

The flow was so vicious, that the Protection Pants were soaked, and legs, socks, feet and slippers were covered in blood.
I got the night catheter off first; no point in cleaning up and making more mess straight away… Huh!

Aha! I’ve found some scribbled notes – hard to read, but I can use them for updating here and there. Seems I got up at 03:00hrs. And took off the night pouch and visited the , the first of several in the morning. The first three were practically normal evacuations; the next three were sticky, phooey and messy!

Sorted out the mess of the pouches and got new Protection Pants on.
I just had a smashing phone call from the Lovely Lisa-Petal ♥ and Billum 👍 in the US of A!
I fear I was a little not up to much when the call came in, and I had great difficulty in hearing everything that the Sweetheart said.
Damn it, we lost the signal. But it was fantastic to get the call.
Lisa & Billum are my Cyber-friends and are much loved.

The needed attention all the time.

Rising, things looked okay

Removing the night bag

One of the emptying sessions

Carer Richard arrived. The bag problems were all I had to show interest in. I was a smidge depressed – but got to the stage of Dracula Depression later. The constant changes in the bag’s performance riled me.
Richard got the medications done and checked in the right leg bag.

Carer Sarah was the next visitor. Got the medications sorted.
Then the great cock-up with the Catheter Bag!

I emptied the blood again…

But the flow from the catheter was not getting through to the bag

The blood still flowed from little Inchie.
But, nowhere near as bad.
Unfortunately, my trying to get the tube further into the Little Inchie, it irritated the Fungal Lesion. Added to my having to bend and stretched so much to clean things up, the Mystery Stabbing Pain in the Ribs returned.

A damned good job. I’ve got a good supply of Depends in stock.

PHEW!

The Catheter pouch suddenly filled up in fifth gear time!

Boy, it was full!

Emptying the bag was difficult, with all the blood clots.

Carer Kara arrived. I told her of my problems.
She wanted to know if I wanted the night bag fitting or not.
I farted about and dithered on whether to.
As I saw it, with little blood and urine going into the day bag again,
it should be okay; with my doing the blog until the early hours, it won’t matter about missing sleep. I’ve missed that much already. (Sarcasm Detected)

Going to get this posted off and get some sleep if I can.

TTFN

Inchcock: Friday 4th November 2022

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03:00hrs: I woke, but without the usual jump and or jerk? Not complaining, mind you. As I was manipulating the challenging struggle to get up on my feet, I got a little help to make me move faster… The rapidly getting urgent need of a wee-wee! As I approached the grey overnight bucket, it became apparent that I would also require using the Porcelain Throne. So, I went to the Porcelain Throne. Well, it seemed sensible!
Boy, what a session! I’d got myself ready for the usual struggle to pass, got the crossword book out… Things started moving straight away! Smoothly, painlessly and bloodlessly! Yee-Ha!

Rinses and cleaned, and went out into the kitchen to get the kettle on.

Number One: I took these photos of the morning view as the water boiled, and I made a right mess of the first one. I didn’t think I’d even had any shakes, , and were not giving me any bother?
But I still made a hash of it. Tsk!
The second try came out a lot better, even if not like modern art, as the first one was. Hehe!

Then, as I was making the tea, there seemed to be water all over the countertop.
At first, I thought the kettle was leaking. But after a quick inspection, I found nothing untoward there.
The water seemed to be getting worse, so I got some paper towels and wiped it up.
Then had, a look up to see if anything was coming down through the ceiling. Nope!
number two: Eventually, it clicked.
The slow cooker had been leaking, and I think must have made me miss a load of it from last night. Phew!

I got on the computer to update yesterday’s blog. Five hours later, had blanked out a lot of concentration, and blogging was a morning nightmare. If anything was forgettable, do-wrongable or losable, I did it. I had to take a break, so I did.

I pottered about in the kitchen; even in doing that, I started things and moved on to sorting something else with the first thing being finished. At one stage, I started to pour all the part bottles of disinfectants into an empties spray bottle.
Then found I was placing a baking potato on the counter to cook later? What? Got back to the disinfectants and saw I had no bleach under the sink. I wandered around trying to remember where I put the bleach that was delivered on… erm… last week.
Talk about confused! I got back to the disinfectants and mixed in the different types and scents with each other… at least judging by the smell of them later on. And I was happy doing them?

The light was coming early. Then again, I didn’t realise how late it was in the morning then – Confusion Conrad was in charge this morning.

These three photographs were taken, its a miracle they came out so well. Because my mind seemed to want to get back to sorting the cleaning bottles?
Well, I thought they did.

Came in, the poor thing was yawning again. Hehe! Got the medications sorted, and as if something had clicked during this visit, my concentration began to return?
We had a little natter about this and that. I insisted she takes a drink and nibble with thanks.
She took the waste bags with her. ♥
Oh, I nearly forgot; I asked her to take a look at the dates on the Enoxaparin hypodermics. They are too small for me to read them. They were well out of date. Jodie said to tell Richard on Monday. So I will!

I got back to the computer, still not concentrating as I should, but better than earlier. It’s funny that; getting it back never happened so quickly before? I wished it had lasted for longer.

The noisy neighbour from above kicked off big time with his banging and clanging. The concentration was lost again. But I pressed on, not doubt missing many errors, and making more, I got the blog finished. Then made up an Ode for today and then one for tomorrow.
I was feeling so tired suddenly. Then realised I’d not had much in the way of sleep again and had been up for over twelve hours already. I got the potato in the oven: it’ll be about an hour, I should think. Now I have to ensure I don’t fall asleep, and it burns.

I’ll try to get on the WP reader now. Ah! Not done the Health Checks – Next job then! Better late than never…

Not bad, down a little anyway!

The potatoes in the oven looked like a giant passion fruit when I took a look. Hehehe! I dished it and had the last two Sourdough cobs well-buttered.
Cooked chestnuts, gherkin slices, red and orange tomatoes and all of the remaining mock bacon slices. Which were rather nice! Flavour: 8/10.
I cleaned the pots, wee-wee’d washed, medicated the eyes, olive-oiled the ear-holes, and got down in the c1968, £300, second-hand charity-shop bought, crumb-containing, odour-retaining, Harold’s Haemorrhoid-testing, nauseatingly beige coloured, non-working, virus-breeding recliner. To watch the regular weekday ‘Heartbeat’ episode.

But: Can you believe what they did? The Swine at Channel ITV 10, on Freeview? They only took of the Heartbeat episodes! Gits! Scumballs! Have they no compassion or understanding of senile old fools who watch this programme? (Fair enough, I usually fall asleep when the averts come on). And what did unthinking twerps show in the place of the best TV series ever made? Horse Racing!
My being lucky enough not to have any pathological gambling, compulsive gambling or other gambling disorders or interest, I looked up this race day: The Breeders’ Cup 2022 with Grade 1s each way you turn at the Kentucky venue. The year-end championship for North American Flat racing, it has attracted star horses from across the globe.
But at the cost of making many old farts in the UK sulk and even get annoyed at losing their ‘Heartbeat’ to watch.
I am aware that in our block of flats where will have several senior-aged ‘Born Gamblers’ who will welcome horse racing. Good for them!
Gambling is classed as an impulse-control disorder. It is included in the American Psychiatric Association (APA’s) Diagnostic and Statistical Manual, fifth edition (DSM-5). Problem gambling is harmful to psychological and physical health. Ha! The gambling-addicted lads and lasses in our apartments look fitter and happier than I am! Mind you, they all have ticks, smoke and drink!
Good luck to them, I say. A man with my luck cannot dare risk gambling, so I’m safe from one addiction, at least. Hahaha!
I’ve forgotten what I was on about now… Oh, yes, ITV Channel 10 removing Heartbeat. The Swine!

chimed out and came in. He looked a lot less tired tonight. Nice lad. We had a decent chinwag after he’d done the medications. Selected a cold can of orange juice from the fridge by way of thanks and took the waste bags to the bin on his way out.

I resettled in the £300, bought eight years ago from the second-hand shop, Harold Haemorrhoid testing, repugnantly beige-coloured, crumb containing, virus-breeding, acne-giving, rickety, itch-producing, none-working recliner. Sleep did come easier this time, but t was dream-filled crap again.

Three hours later, I burst almost nervously wide awake to find myself needing the NWWB (Nocturnal-Wee-Wee-Bucket), with a lot of PMAD (Post-Micturition-After-Dribbling) following the main event.
That did it, of course. I tried but could not get back to sleep. Humph!

TTFNski

Inchcock: Thursday 3rd November 2022

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00:30hrs: Got up for a wee-wee; that was terrific, gobsmackingly, absolutely free! Grrreat!
But releasing things ready to use the NWWB (Nocturnal-Wee-Wee-Bucket), I got myself in a tangle with the jammie bottoms cord. So, had to go and wash limbs etc., throw the jammies in the laundry bag, and get a dressing gown on. There was no point in getting back to sleep now; I was wide awake.
Went to make a brew of Glengettie tea.

I tried to take a photographicalisation of the morning view.
My first effort came off a bit smudgy, and the second one didn’t get onto the SD card at all!
For the next one, I changed the selector on the Lumix camera to the night view option on the wheel first.
This one came out acceptable to me.

While making the brew of Glengettie, my neurotransmitters failed, and as I was stirring the tea bag as well – So, over went the china mug of tea. Another fine mess to sort out! The one redeeming factor was that the mug stayed on the counter, so at least I didn’t lose another one. Haha!

Updated the Wednesday Blog. It cost me a three-hour struggle, with all the mistakes, and towards the end of doing it, the started, but this time it lasted for longer than ever before. Usually, they are over in seconds… but not this time! Peripheral Neuropathy Pete had never bothered me for so long, with so many incidents, some were quite serious. The first one was as I was stirring my tea bag, it’s hard to explain what happened clearly, but I’ll try: The Peripheral Nerves will suddenly not work, and occasionally they go on-off repeatedly. So the brain does not get a clear message from the neurotransmitters of what they want to do. Then the brain seems to guess but gets it so wrong sometimes. Imagine you want to pick some up that you know is very hot… you test it first. Well, it’s similar to that; the fingers keep nearly doing something and repeatedly miss doing it; why? I think the brain is preventing them. Hence I look like a fool, trying to pick up a piece of paper or anything really but just cannot get the fingers to do the right thing. The same if you want to drop or let go of something – you can’t; it’s impossible until the neurotransmitters send a clear message to the brain, suddenly they will, sooner of later, and things go back to near normal for a while… until the next loss of contact from the nerve-ends.
The fingers are the worst affected, but it can and has, in the past, happened with the toes and feet and can easily have me over.
The silliest and most scary to anyone seeing this happen is when I get what I call an . It’s the equivalent of doing the Oki-cokey; the foot will not settle back on the ground until the nerve ends re-contact. It’s always (up to now) the right leg.
And with , it is always on the right side, never the left? I think that my having my stroke on the righthand side helped to create these phenomena.

The was needed as I entered the wet room with the clothes to change into after the shave and shower. Aha! The evacuation was a little easier today – Small blessings are all welcome! I fang-you! Unfortunately for me, the again.
During this session, the counts increased ridiculously! I had some irritating and annoying incidents to contend with. But they were short-lived, and after the wet room activities, the nerve ends were back to normal, with just the usual odd ones catching me out. Nothing new there!
Dropped the toilet roll into the water! I cut my gums while cleaning the teeth and broke off another bit of the shattered double molar. Four cuts shaving. Carbolic soap dropped twice. Hit my head on the power box and couldn’t find my glasses after showering. (They are still AWOL [Absent Without leave[)

Arrived. Yawningly, Hehe! It’s his last shift for a few days, so I wished him a good rest and much sleep. Got the medications sorted and managed a couple of minutes of chinwagging. Saw him off as he took the waste bags. I shan’t see him for a bit now. Hope he catches up on sleep.

I started on the blog again: it was darned slow work.

Then Windowman Joe arrived. Not getting much done today. We had a laugh and chinwag, but like lighting at cleaning windows, soon off and gone.

Tried to get some graphics done… Cleaner Esther arrived. She was in and out for over an hour. She kept nipping down to check the laundry. She cut me a hole in my trouser belt – I can now wear them with more confidence, Hehehe! Finally told me her new minimum rate of pay is going from ten to fifteen pounds an hour for doing the laundry. Humph! I could do little or no work on or for this blog. I could not concentrate on Esther’s incessant talking. So I gave up and listened to her.

Finally, she departed. Ah, now I can get on with the blog…

The landline rangeth…
It was Sister Jane. We had a jolly long conversation, and I found out I was eating the wrong foods, buying too much of it, and should eat more pasta. Fair enough, she was right. But we had a laugh or two. Said out farewells.

And back to blogging...

It was the Asda delivery. The driver helpfully threw the items ordered into the boxes provided for me… this chap was a lot more careful about not putting things like mini sponge rolls at the bottom of the box; bless him. I thanked him and got the food and things into the kitchen.

The big items I bought were the Flash speed Mop and extra pads. There’s a reason I bought these, and I can remember why, too. Oh, YES! Mind you, I can’t remember who it was that extolled the virtues of the costly Flash mop… but someone told me how great and easy to use they were. Although on later looking at, but unable to read the small print on how to set it up and operate it, I’m already sorry I bought them! !
I left them in the hallway – and hoped that one of the carers may as me why and hopefully know how to set it up and work it. Humph!
I thought I could smell bleach, and one of the bottles was leaking… So I got the box with the cleaners in it opened first to check... Yes, the bleach had been leaking! Grangknangles! I checked in the empty box, just in time to see the cardboard disintegrating, and got it in the sink. Tore it up… I didn’t know I had so much anger in me, but got the cardboard box pieces and put them in a large plastic bag, and I hobbled grumblingly out loud as I took them to the waste chute and deposited the bag. Coming back to the flat, I realised how childish I’d been and felt a fool for getting all hot & bothered over it. I envisaged my moving into a home for Dementia sufferers, and it didn’t seem that far away!
I sorted out the food box next. The only item they had none off in stock was the tomato passata with basil. Shame, ’cause I’ve got none now. Haha! I’m glad they had some of the Soya lemon yoghourts, though; they are nice and tasty without being too sweet. The vegetable pasties that I tried last week, and they were good and tasty, also arrived. I do not remember ordering any fresh tomatoes or cooked chestnuts… but then again, my saying I do not remember – is becoming my catchphrase, I think. Hehe!

I got things put away… not the Flash Speed Mop, of course, and had a wee-wee. As I was washing my hands, I realised that I’d had the potato simmering away for over six hours now in the crock-pot!
In the kitchen, I trundled and turned it off. The large potato had split open, and bits of flesh were floating about in the pan… Tsk!

I got back to the computer and started working in CorelDraw, making graphics, tabs and an Ode… I was doing well… I thought… which was rubbish, of course. CorelDraw kept freezing, and MS word, in which I was creating the ode, did the same? I gave up!

The landline rang and at the same time! I’m just lucky, I guess… Esther returned to get something she’s left, and I asked her to talk to the woman who phoned for me; cause I couldn’t understand a word she said! Neither could Esther! So put the phone down. Esther said she was trying to get me to join Virgin Media, I said I’m already on it…
IT dawned on me after Esther had gone. A woman who I could not understand rang, but no dice with hearing what she said. When Jenny phoned me to warn me that Liberty-Global Virgin Media was going down on Wednesday, it did. I wonder if it’s going to go down again?

I’ve got so little done today. I’ve now been up now for 16hours. Frustrated at every turn. Evening Carer is due anytime now. I’m tired, hungry and pretty miffed off with things. And still way behind on blogging! Well, it’ll stay that way! I’m gonna get a mug of Thompson’s tea, then something to eat.

I took this evening shot of the view from the kitchenette window while doing the cooking… Blimey, I multitasked there!

At last, I made and ate a decent meal. This one was a gorgeous soya Frikadellen and a veg pastie, tomatoes, yellow and red ones, very tasty, sweet! Sourdough cobs, and a mandarin & lemon mousse. Oh, and a boiled potato. Lashings of BBQ sauce.
Bootiful! Taste Rating: 8.9/10! However, in the preperationing for this meal…
and … When it came to cleaning the Crock-pot used to cook the potato, The bottom of the base had been leaking! The metal plate underneath had split somehow. So, I no longer have a crock-pot. I saved the porcelain bowl and lid, they are fine, and they may be of use to someone in the flats or carers to have as a spare? I got the slow cooker into three black bags. I may have to take it down to the recycling bin in the morning. It won’t fit in the heavy-metal waste-chute lid. Shame!
Then, I may be back… but I doubt it until the morning, with more catching up to do. Muckleworthiness and Crab-ends!

Morning Update:   Chloe woke me up. We got the medications sorted out okay. I was still half-asleep. I recall walking to the door with Chloe, taking the waste bags for me; I locked the door and returned to get a meal made.

Had lost interest in me getting back to sleep. It took hours before I faded. Flibblegonknackles!

Another Doreen Dementia Driven Day. Dangnab-It!

Inchcock Today: Tuesday 25th October

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ANOTHER MESSY, MISCALCULATING DAY!

I didn’t get any sleep at all. Didn’t even try to. Various reasons, Thought-Storms, Anne Gyna and frustrations niggling at me from within my own brain. I use the term brain, loosely! Mostly over my concerns over the timing of, or did I order, the EasyLink transport for the visit to the Doctors to get the results of the Severe Frailty Test. This left me confused and frustrated, and things only worsened as the day of confusion and error-making moved on.
On the computer for many hours. Not that much got done. The concentration was again lackadaisical.

I got the done around 02:00hrs.

When I put the results through the NHS calculator online, well… What the heck happened here?

The highest it has ever been since I began using the site!

I’ve never been as high as this. I was in the Hypertension 3+ zone!

All the same, I was not too worried. I put it down to worry over the weekend. As usual, no help was available. Even if any ILCs (Wardens) had been on site, there was no guarantee that I could have contacted them. Anyway, even if I could, they could not contact Easy-Link, who do not work over the weekend, to verify the arrival time of the lift. I felt the tension and an uptightness, and Anne Gyna has been at me again, although not as bad as last week before the medications had been doubled.

I made the first mug of tea I’d had for over eleven hours. Not me at all! Mind you, after this brew, the old tea addiction returned.

Took this snap of the morning view. But didn’t appreciate it at all; I was still fretting (and EQ told me things were going to go ape-shit) over the lift arrangements and appointment time. Nothing positive, you understand, just this sense that I had somehow put them down wrong in the calendar.

The computer turned off, and I went off to the wet room. Not that I can remember much about it, but I think it went well.
Made a second mug of tea, Co-op 99 this time.

Arrived.
We had a chat, some of it dedicated to ways of making things easier for me to grasp.
The usual laughs and natter were granted by Richard.  Not sure if we put the world to rights or not today. Hehe!
My memory notes a sparse for some reason… and unreadable in parts as well. Rich took the bags to the bin with him on his way out. Usual Monday thank-you treats were given. Oh, yes, I remember now; Richard helped me get the in-the-ear hearing aids going to use today; bless him.

I got myself and the things needed for the Doctor’s visit ready, and I was struggling through the door with the three-wheeled walker when I heard the phone ringing. I battled my way back inside, bruising my knee on the trolley and on the wheel. All the time, a voice (EQ), telling me not to answer it, you’re doing wrong! But I thought it might be the surgery or EasyLink phoning, so I got back and had to answer it. It was Sister Jane. Telling me about the Sun & Mon merging today. Of course, with all the concern over the bus and appointment timing, I was in a mini-panic in case I missed the bus. I forgot all about it until the morning when it was too late. I felt bad about that. After Jane had taken the bother to let me know as well. Sorry, Jane! ♥

Unfortunately, although I didn’t realise it at the time, this was just enough delay for me to miss the bus! EQ was right again. Why don’t I listen to him?
Faffed about in a hurry now, stubbing the same toe again. Down to the lift lobby.
I went through to the main lobby, and it was 5 past 10. I thought the bus was due at 10:15hrs, so had plenty of time after all. But no bus arrived.
I waited ten more minutes and then walked to the ILC (Independent Living Coordinators), Oberstgrüppenfuhrer, Warden and Primo Ballerina, Warden Deana & Generaloberstess, Ice skating champion florist and Warden Julie’s holding-cell office.
Through the ether, an audible, almost physical voice screamed at me, “Argh, it’s him again!”  Haha!

Julie phoned Easy-Link to see about the bus. Now I knew I’d just missed it by five minutes! Damn-it! Will I ever get to this appointment? Julie called the Doctor and got a new appointment made for me, bless her cotton socks. This one is for Tuesday, 1st November 2022, at 10:20hrs. Then she rang EasyLink again to confirm a lift to get there, but none to come back, as I just did not know how long I would be at the appointment. Thanked her. Coming out of the holding-cell office.

I bumped into Carer Richard. I was a little tense and so tired and disappointed at things going wrong yet again that I can’t recall exactly what we said during our chinwag in the Winwood lobby.

I went back to the flat along the link passage, into the flat, and got the timings clearly on the Google Calendar for the next Doctor’s meeting.

Deana had written a note for me to keep as a reminder as well. I cello-taped that to the end of the high bookcase.

At least I get some kip in now; surely, this would not be a problem after being up for 28 hours on the to now?

I’m certain, sure that I took a photograph of the Chilli-Not-Carne meal. Four Cumberland sausages I cooked, well, nigh on incinerated, by giving them a good 12-extra minutes or more in the oven. Had to chisel them out of the tray to get them on top of the dish. But the photo was not on the Lumix SD card. I can’t understand why, but in the morning, when it came to updating this blog, blow me, there the photo was? Mind you, it was one of the worst photos I’ve ever taken. Still, it shows the burned sausages and disgusting-looking chilli. Yet I enjoyed it. A taste rating of 7.2/10 was given to it. The sausages? 9.2/10 even though they’d been cauterised! Hehehe! Put the tray on the Carer’s table, and .

Woke me up an hour or so later. And I  really was deep in sleep. So much so that I think my first greetings came out as gibberish and waffle! It took me until getting the medications and seeing the Warfarins in the pot to realise it was not morning but nighttime and that I’d only been kipping for an hour. Hehe! I came around a bit and offered Carolynne a cold drink from the fridge. Had to go to the door with her as she collected the waste bags for me, said my farewells and locked the door.

I got back down in the £300, second-hand, c1968, charity shop-bought, eyesorely-horrendously grungy coloured, Harold Haemorrhoid-testing, easily-falloutable from, unfit-for-use, not working, recliner, and was back in the land of nod within a minute I reckon.
I slept for another seven hours! Yes! Mind you, my body and feeble brain needed it! Hurrah!

Sunday 2nd October 2022

Government Spin Cartoon

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06:05hrs: I been laying there wondering what it was that was different as I stirred back into imitation life. Then, it clicked! I’d had at least six hours of sleep! Still a deficit overall, but so much better than the night before, with a total of Zero-Hours! Then as I moved my limbs, something else was not normal… There was no pain whatever coming from ! Well, this is a good start, I thought. But refused to go into a smug mode. I’d not gotten up yet, or checked for any Whoopsiedangleplops from last night. Like taps running, stove left on, fridge door or window left open, etc. So, after doing the balance exercises, which went well, I grabbed Metal-Micky, and we looked around. No signs of nocturnal wanderings, tap off, oven off, window shut… Mmm?

I decided to get Josie’s Sunday meal prepped. I’m using the black bean in chilli sauce I got from Bulwell in the rain storm on Friday in it today.
Sliced some tomatoes and chestnut mushrooms, nice and small, how Josie likes them. Then added the 7-vegetable sauce in chilli to it. Put the mince in it, and make some chilli gravy using the smoked chilli seasoning. Later, I added a can of mixed vegetables and some liquid salt.
Made a brew of Thomson’s Punjana tea, and I started on the template for today’s blog.

Jozeph arrived. I’d not seen him for a while. He explained he’d been off work with Covid! And he said he’d had three shots and four booster shots. Doesn’t give you much confidence, does it? I’ve not had a booster at all yet. The Carer gave me a test the other week, and I was clear then. We got the medications sorted, and he had a little natter. He’s got an extra patient to go to. He took the waste bag with him as he departed with a drinkie and a nibble in thanks.

I went to check on the chilli stew, or whatever you call it.
Got all the ingredients into one saucepan and left it on low heat after a good stirring.

Then, I decided to get them done.
I got the Boot’s Sphygmomanometer, manufactured by ZDEAC (Zhongshan Daguan Electrical Appliance Company Ltd) in Guangdong, China.

The was needed, and urgently, so much so, I feared, “I’m never going to get there in time!

I rushed so much to the wet room; the toes were really hurting again, so much. Down on the seat, the action flowed, no pain, no bleeding, but a little messy – Thank heavens there were no leaks, or it would have left me with a right mess to clean up. I allowed myself a Smug-Mode moment this time.

SYS 154, DIA 89 (High). The Pulse was also high at 90 bpm.

The body temperature was also back up a smidgeon, at 37.3°f.

The Excel graph showed an awful lot of reds. Still, compared to yesterday, at least I was down to Hyper-Tension Red one again.
I stirred the saucepan and turned it off to marinate.
I opened the computer and found this photo on the left that I believe I missed putting in Saturday’s blog.
Hard to believe that such an erudite, educated young man as I could forget such a thing. Absolutely beautiful!
Started his enosis iffy again. A persistent dough ball of arrogance, he is. I continued from yesterday, and I started giving the high bookcase a clout with metal Micky in return each time. With any luck, he may have heard it and may come down to complain? He’s impudent enough. I await his calling… after which an ambulance and police may also be calling. He kept it up for hours. My high bookcase may get damaged if he doesn’t give me a break. Hahaha! Oh, it’s gone quiet?

Got the Saturday blog finished and posted off to WordPress. Replied to the flood of comments coming in about the blog. I answered them both.

Oh, time to get Josie’s meal served up.
Did the usual with the chillies; I split it half and half-ish between a porcelain bowl and a lidded tub, so Josie can reheat it later in the microwave. Two meals that way, Sunday and Monday, for the gal to enjoy. Got it delivered to her door.
I remembered to take the Lumix with me this time, so I got a shot of Josie taking the tray.
She posed for me in her doorway. She poses well, does she not? The tray displays the two meals, two cans of plonk, Gin and a Vodka & orange. Teacakes nibbles, Orange Yorkie bar (Josies struck on them), and a pot of Limoncello. Not been able to get any for ages, so that should cheer her up. It didn’t do me any good, though. The last time I got some, a couple of months ago, they were two for £1.40. Now, Morrisons have upped them to £1.89. Tsk!

I got back into the flat and washed the utensils, saucepans, tray etc. and made a brew of Thompson’s Punjana. I’d left the first one to brew up and forgot all about it. A regular occurrence. In fact, I probably make more brews than I drink.

Then onto CorelDraw to make up some tags, then updated a page of the Ode words to use.

McCartney sausages, tomatoes, oven-warmed cobs, and a lemon dessert for the meal. Nothing fancy, I was so tired.
But, it went down well.
Simple food for a simple mind. I did enjoy it all the same.
A worthy Flavour-Rating of 7/10. I ate it all up. Slurp!
Washed the pots, had a wee-wee, washed and .

Blared out from the door chime – jerking me awake from the beautiful deep sleep I was in! It was Carer Aoki.
A little confusion arose from my positive conviction that it was morning, not night! Courtesy of Doreen, and my still feeling half-asleep. The first clue to the truth was when Aoki issued me the tablets that included  2½ Warfarin tablets. I slowly came back to normal. (When I say normal, I possibly should have told my usual sub-normal state) I tried to explain why I got confused, but fear the stuttering in my talking only got a furrowed brow from Aoki. I possibly could have sounded drunk, I think. Aoki chose a non-alcoholic drinkie in thanks. Took the black bag with her as she departed.

I felt I had to make a check of the flat to see if I’d left taps, lights, heaters, oven etc. on anywhere. As I limped around each room, the got more painful. These nails are going to be giving me more and more bother… Humph!
Checked the kitchen out last. The holy thing I found untoward was the fridge soar not shut properly.
The view I caught a little late to catch the sun part of the sunset, I thought adorable, calm and peaceful.
I took this photo, closed the window, and knocked a jar of my beloved vegetable flavourings off the ledge. It broke this time. Getting the smashed glass and sauce from the floor was possibly even more painful than it was. I managed to cut my finger on the bits of glass. And really annoyed the preciously calm , bending down, and she joined in with the angry, pain-giving, with me doing so much genuflecting.

I nodded off quickly enough. But kept waking up with a jerk, repeatedly. It was well gone midnight when the waking-up-jumps stopped. I know this because I had to fumble my way out of the second-hand, £300, charity shop bought, crumb-retaining, microorganism-microbe producing, gungy beige coloured, none-working, incommodious, Haemorrhoid Harold testing, c1968 recliner, to have a wee-wee. So noted the time.

IT DID NOT LAST FOR LONG

Inchy to Alto Inchy:

Is life worth living?

Alto Inchy to Inchy:

Living, have you been living then?

Inchy to Alto Inchy:

Well, yea…

Alto Inchy to Inchy:

You could have fooled me, mush!

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –

Taketh Care, Each!

Inchcock: Inchie vs Alto Conflict

Last night, while shaving, Alto-Ego returned!


Alto: Aye up, Inchie!.

Inchie: What are you doing back?.

Alto: I never left, yer burke…

Inchie: No need to embarrass like this, is there?.
While I’m shaving and cleaning up the lesion?

Alto: Exactly, I like a laugh occasionally!

Inchie: Laugh at what?.

Alto: Yer tiddly pinkie, Hahaha!.

Inchie: At least I’ve got one, yo ain’t!

Alto: I’m you, ain’t I? Your mentor, guide and mental crippler! And I’ve not got a physical body to be ashamed of like you have!

Inchie: A?

Alto: Gawd, your thick!

Inchie: Well, yer…

Alto: This is why I’ve not been getting at you lately, Turd-face…, yer just a short-arsed overweight whimp, with no residence to my poking fun at you! It’s hardly worth my while trying to make you miserable & depressed; you’ve been this way for months now of your own volition! Is it any wonder I’m losing interest in yer? I’m only here now cause I’d done such a good job in pissing Putin off! This could mean a promotion for me, you know?

Inchie: Promotion? I like the sound of that. Does this mean you’ll get another human to hassle and leave me alone?

Alto: Nae, Dumbo, your memory is gerrin’ worserer! I’ve told yer before, the Alto-Ego Management, insist we stay with any human allotted to us until we get victory…

Inchie: Victory?

Alto: If you stop interrupting me, Brain-dead, I was going to tell yer, yet again; The only way I free myself of you is the Humans death, Confirmed by an appropriate medical institution of utter insanity, or nine attempts at suicide all fail. That, Knob-Rot, is the only escape from you.

Inchie: Erm… I’ve been trying to part company with you, and now you say you’d like to part company with me… am I right?

Alto: Oh, Inchy, my stupidest ever human; You’re just too thick and ignorant to understand the simplest things, and you make a mess off, mistakes and blunders of everything you try to do, don’t you? But that really is not always your fault…

Inchie: Oh, there’s a change in tone Alto?…

Alto: Your willful pig-ignorance, despondency, dispiritedness, defeatism, and docility, sometimes bring out a rare quality in me. Seeing you struggle medically is a laugh for me. The more I mock and depress you, the nearer your suicide gets. I’ve arranged for all the ailments, including Cataract Katey and Dementia Doreen, to have free reign of your body and mind. Soon it will be freedom for me! Your dubiety and incertitude are making you, more than ever, reliant upon me, your Alto-Ego. Thus you are becoming more and more subservient and servile to me… The first Alto-Ego to dent Putin’s determination! The Alto of Altos…

Inchie: Oh! So why did you call at all?

Alto: In a desperate bid to cause you misery. depression, and encourage you to commit suicide, Bozo!

Inchie: Well, you’ve always tried doing that in the past?

Alto: Well, today, I’m gifting you with an accident that will involve a plaster-cast and Hospitalisation…

Inchie: That’s nice…

Alto: What?

Inchie: Well, my depression does not come from physical pain but from the mental stress of living. I admit you did a good job with installing Dementia Doreen, but she’s not taken over completely yet. So don’t fret… I’ll not top myself yet… I’ve never felt better for months than I do at this very minute. What do you think of that?

Alto: Shit!

ALTO-INCHY RETURNS…

ALTO-INCHY RETURNS…

INCHY: Ayup, your back again then, Alto? Not seen you for ages.

ALTO: How did you know I was here; I was in clandestine mode?

INCHY: I reckon that Doreen Dementia can detect yer; I certainly knew you were creeping about in my head…

ALTO: Rowlocks! I reckon it’s another Alto trying to sneak in…

INCHY: Whatever makes yer think that then?

ALTO: Well, I’ve been having troubles with Alto Control Room Monitoring Section, mate...

INCHY: Mate? Calling me yer mate? Summat serious, then I take it.

ALTO: Of yes, not-half Inchy. I slipped up a bit with not picking up on yer suicidal tendencies, and the ACRMS found out… some sneaking Alto had snitched on me…

INCHY: That’s not right… some foreign Alto snitching on my Alto! Can I complain about this?

ALTO: Why?

INCHY: Well, after three-score and ten and a bit of having you pestering and trying to make me miserable, these past few weeks, I’ve sort of missed you, and you are mine?

ALTO: That would have brought tears to my eyes if I’d got any!

INCHY: Don’t be sloppy; it doesn’t become you; where’s your sarcasm, nit-picking, foul language, insinuations, and determination to destroy any contentment I have gone?

ALTO: It’s a sad tale, my friend…

INCHY: Hang on then, I’ll make a brew of Thompsons Punjana tea and get back to yer… owd yer horses… I’ll be back…

ALTO: Thanks, Inchy… I appreciate that…

At this, Inchy hobbled off to his kitchen and made the brew described above, totally confused. Alto, thanking him, calling him a friend and mate? Not a single insult or put down uttered? This could be serious. What if the new Alto takes over? He could well be worse than Alto Inchie?

INCHY: I’m back, Alto-Inchie. Fair enough, we’ve had some set-to’s, barneys and verbal battles… Who is this invading Alto anyway, and why does he want to take over control of me?

ALTO: I’ll explain, mucker! This Senior level Alto failed in his mission on his last assignment, got the sack, and has gone rogue on the ACRMS. Being such an experienced Alto, they cannot reel him back into the fold, and for some reason, he’s chosen you as his next target?

INCHY: Who did he fail with?

ALTO: Ah, well, he was Alto-Putin…

INCHY: Putin! The Russian one?

ALTO: Yes, I’m afraid so!

INCHY: How did he fail with Putin? Good Gawd, he’s launched the attack on poor Ukraine, and…

ALTO: Yes, yes, but it’s been 133 days now, and he still hasn’t won the war, has he?

INCHY: So?

ALTO: You should read up on the ACRMS rules; I’ve sent them all to your brain to study! Rule 9920043847076/Putin/WorldWar-93939g954h, Failure to achieve the prime target within 130 earth days of the formulation; will result in the said Alto (Alto-Putin in this case) being relocated to a proletariat target.

INCHY: Oh…

ALTO: Anyway, I’ve got a hell of a fight on my hands with this Alto-Putin; he’s good; too good for me...

INCHY: Well?

ALTO: Only you can help me, my old pal?

INCHY: How?

ALTO: Simple, if you commit suicide from depression, which is my prime aim, we can beat Putin-Alto, and save the world; you’ll be dead but famous!

INCHY: Ah, so if I top myself…

ALTO: Yes… but it’s got to be through depression at all costs. Otherwise, I fail in my Prime-Mission, do you see? Then I will get extra powers in payment from the ACRMS, and I can use them to defeat Putin-Alto! Hari-Kari, whatever you want to call it, through chance-medley and/or depression is a must way to go, Inchy. The ACRMS will not accept death through execution, accident, euthanasia, or mercy killing!

INCHY: How are they going to know?

ALTO: I’ll know, but the proof will be needed. I’ve thought about this, and a suicide note should do the trick, my old chum, something along the lines of: “I can no longer cope with the confusions of Doreen Dementia, Peripheral Neuropathy Pete, Nigel’s Neurotransmitters Failing, Cataract Cathleen, Deaf Dominic and the hellish bad luck and problems are all beyond my capacity to understand, alleviate or solve. Anything of any value I leave behind is to be shared between all my relatives and friends. I leave contact numbers for all three, in the first-aid box, in the ambulatory oxygen tank racking.”

INCHY: Alto, do I detect a little sarcasm creeping into the conversation here?

ALTO: Hang on, I’m getting a message coming in from Alto-Putin...

INCHY: Alto-Putin?

ALTO: Yea… hang on… I’ll be back…

Inchy started to fret a bit while he waited… A sense of his being conned again was growing… rightly so!

ALTO: Hello?

INCHY: Well, what was that about, Alto?

ALTO: He just sent one question for me… You pathetic dummy!

INCHY: Eh? What?

ALTO: Alto-Putin said: “Did Inchy fall for it?” Hahaha!

Inchcock’s Make ’em Laugh Series

Inchcock Today: Monday 16th May 2022

Monday, 16th May 2022

I was hoping for a better day!

Things stirred back to reality at 05:25hrs, after 6 hours of sleep and various periods of jumping awake. Making a total time being awake of two hours. Does that make sense? Sorry if not.

According to the best I can make out from the scribbled memory notes, the next occurrence was; P.Tarone Enight? Beats me!

I rose like a tried elephant from the c1968 second-hand recliner, grabbed walking stick Metal Mickey, and went to the wet room to get the Ablutions done.

But my dithering nature interfered, and I took the waste bin out of the wet room, emptied the others and made up some waste bags. Took them to the flat door.

It was drizzling outside, and as I put the kettle on, I took a photo of the road to the left of the kitchenette window. Plenty of trees on it get fresh air.

It’s no wonder I’ve never seen a for sale sign on the beautiful looking Cavendish Vale.

The skies were, I thought, ripe for a few minutes of pareidolia. I’m keen on finding figures in the clouds. But on this occasion, I failed to find any. Humph!

Well, apophenia, finding figures in anything, creases, reflections, cracks in floor tiles, and bulging veins. I’m experienced in that one, having more bulging veins than most people.

I made the tea, went to put the milk in, but diverted back to getting the ablutioning done.

Well, once again, it was a fair session. Fair enough, a few teeny-weeny cuts shaving, but no knocks and bangs, dizzies, toe-stubbings or tumbles. I didn’t engage the Smug-Mode… it’s early yet.

I even got out through the door without any shoulder-charging of the frame… Yes, go on then;

Got the laundry bag sorted. Made another mug of tea for the one I let go cold, and Dizzy Dennis gave me a few moments of concern… only a  short bout, maybe a minute at most. But it had me holding on to the stick and hastening to sit down. But Dennis disappeared, and I was fine when I stood up? There are no messages from EQ, but I think it may be another semi-harrowing day, somehow? 

Sunday’s photograph of the messy mud-slide onto the end car park on Chestnut Way. It has been known for Cataract Kathleen to do this to me! I hope I’ve not put this one on before?

This is this morning’s shot of the same area. I found some more of the indecipherable scrawl on the memory pad here, not the foggiest of what it meant. Try as I did, it remains a mystery,

A sudden robust rumbling from the innards!  I was all but too late, getting to the Throne in time in seconds. Trotsky Terence controlled the evacuation. Gawdawfull messy it was! Had to change the PPs (Protection Pants) I’d put on an hour ago! Ah, well, I got everything cleaned up.

Richard arrived late; he’d had a lousy shift, I think. The poor lad looked done in. He still had a look at the SD card for me. Putting it in and out to see if anything changed; and found that the card had split! He took the waste bags out with him for me, with my thanks.

I hope the new card works in the Canon and the reader accepts it. Praying here! I opened the card, full of hope and cut my finger on the plastic! Got it fitted in the camera (not the finger, the SD card), and I tried taking shots that I did yesterday to use here and test the system. Good heavens, it worked! So, I engaged in the use of the, with reservations. As you can see here, it worked.

Outside my Winwood Heights Independent Living block of flats, I hobbled out onto the balcony to look at what was. Conducted my Blood Pressure and temperature checks. SYS 154, DIA 68, Pulse 78, and the body temperature was a decent 34.1°c.

A couple of miles away, I took a zoomed-in shot of HMP, her Majesties Nottingham Prison. And thoughts and questions permeated through… “I bet they can see their prison Doctor or Dentist at any time?”, “They’ll get their cataracts done quicker than I get mine!” “They are not worried about the rent, electricity, food, transport, bus fares, etc. going up?” “Most likely, get their free computers mended for free!” They’ll not worry about forgetting to lock their doors either! Hahaha!

Gawd, he’s been at it again, almost one-stop since morning. Bang, tap-tap, scrape, thud, boing… I did not retaliate. After all, what is the point in haggling with the self-centred, impolite, insensitive, disrespectful, snobbish, haughty, pompous, pretentious, uppity, scoffing, contumelious, smart-alecky, and ineffable, cruel, unsympathetic, toffee-nosed, self-important, nyaff, noisy nasty man?
As luck has it, I like him.

Far too ridiculously late, I made a start on this blog. Of course, something had to go wrong…

Am I the luckiest person on earth, I asked myself?

Of course not!

That honour must go to Steve Fries, the bigwig of Liberty Global, Whose inability to send an uninterrupted internet signal to Nottingham earns him $23 million a year!

Jealous? Me? Yes!

Miraculously, it was only down for a minute or so this time; I felt almost happy about it! Temporarily!

I thought I’d better check to see if any messages or missed calls had been received while I was so busy being mucked about my Herbert and Fries. Still, Herbert entertained me with some clattering-about sounds.

Could I find the phone? No! There was worry but no panic initially. All I had to do, was go through all of my jackets and trousers that I’d worn since I last used the mobile phone (whenever that was). I vaguely remember putting it in a pocket and saying, “Don’t forget that it’s in that pocket!”

Within about ten minutes, I settled for Thursday, when the foot lady texted me telling me I was late for my appointment again… that was in the brain box! I engaged my Sherlock Holmesian Methodology, and first, I worked out when I last went out. Now, what was I wearing? Maroon jacket? Blur jacket? Black trousers, or green trousers? Was I wearing my trousers – nobody said anything.

After a heated discussion with myself, I narrowed it down to the green or black trousers; and the red or blue jacket, all of which were in the laundry bag. Then thought, aha! (I do that sometimes), It might be in the pyjama bottoms, two pairs of them in the laundry. I almost felt confident as I went into the back room to search for the clothing in the bag… I should have known better at my age and after many years of failed memory training!

Well, now I was getting hot under the collar! I smugly checked through every pocket and the bag… not sausage in there. (Not that I was after one, of course, a figure of speech and all that).

A lengthy search in each room and all the clothes hanging up in the front room and the hallway proved a failure, with no mobile to be seen. Of course, if I knew my mobile number, I could ring it and hope I heard it to locate it. Although if it was in a pocket, as I still believed it was, I might not hear it anyway… I rang the desktop dancer and Warden Deana to ask if she could ring the mobile for me, but to was engaged… oh, that reminds me; she is six weeks away from getting married; bless her, and a lucky fellow too… I digress again, sorry. I do tend to do that a lot.

I rummaged, rooted and ferreted about, delving into the most unlikely of places, all to no avail. Then a spark in the brain suggested that it may have fallen and gone underneath the cabinet or recliner? Worth a look, so I did…

I got the torch and was leaning on the arm of the recliner to get low enough to check the sides, with my intentions bravely being, if no success, to get on my knees to look under the chair. But as I was leaning forward and on my left leg – perfect timing from the Nicodemus’s Neurotransmitters, who gave me a flailing right leg out of control dance… Which naturally had me on the floor in seconds. The spectacles are now in a precariously loose state of repair. Also, I’ve got two newly bruised knees and a red cheek from hitting the arm on the way down!

As I was recovering and considering how to get back up on my feet, Deana came in at just the perfect time! She got me up, made sure things still worked with the legs, and laughed at the (at the time unknown to me) red patch on the cheek that looked like a clown’s make-up! Hahaha! Not really, but she should have.

Deana rang my mobile. I couldn’t hear it. But she found it, under the cover on the back of the computer chair… in a jacket pocket! I am totally losing it, and a twit!

Well, worra day! Again! It’s nearly 1700hrs now, so sleep looks like being late tonight. This blog is not halfway through yet! I pressed on with it like a mini but fat hero, determined to get it up to date…

♫Oh, Susana♫ rang out. I hobbled to the door (It was a pronounced hobble, the right knee was in some pain, Tsk!) and found Josie returning the jar that held the two meals for yesterday. Bless her, I could not hear what she was saying, but plashed a smile, mentioning Betty Bunter, bless her.

Arrived, soon sorted. Then, I had a go at catching up on Facebooking. Then comments on WordPress.

Got the nosh started. It is now passed 21:00hrs. It’s been another gruelling day. I caught my hand on the oven dish as I took it out of the oven. I believe I said, “Bother!”

Veggie burger, fries, tomatoes and some sugar snap crap Ecuadorian peas. I realised a small stale cake and an out-of-date, but I could not see the date, and tasting it realised it was rancid. The banana was okay, though. However, despite these minor upsets, the flavour rating given was 6.5/10.

Had a wash, and when I came out to do the pot washing, the great sky looked to me just like an oil or water painting.

I took my time taking the last photo, as it was zoomed-in and getting the Canon camera to hold steady enough for a decent shot was not easy. I probably had to take six or seven tries to get this last one, which is not very good. But retains something about it that I like.

I deleted the old snaps on the new SD card. Thinking it would be less confusing for Kathleen’s Cataracts, Doreen’s Dementia and me. But no, I only deleted two that had not been put on the computer yet! Hehe!

Getting to sleep was nigh on impossible; well, it was. The Thought Storms rampaging through the brain, self-hatred, shame, fear… I was in the right state. It’d been a messy day, but why this? I put the TV on, but that didn’t send me off. Utter worn-outedness did it in the end, around about 02:30hrs!

Still, yers don’t like to complain, does yer?

Alto-Inchies Ode on Inchcock

I’ve been a bit worried about Inchcock for many a day,
His brain has been loaded with worries & clamjamfry…
Doreen’s Dementia is getting more and more on display!
His memory is shot to pieces, bar some bits of scintillae,
He’s had two falls, one on Sunday, another on Monday,
His outlook, ideas and hopes become anachronistically…
If they come at all, his writing is full of godwottery!

But it wouldn’t help if he won the lottery…
He’s lost interest in anything financially…
His nest egg dwindling, becoming almost eleemosynary,
Worried over increases, rent, care, food, even his tea!
Electricity, travel, all risen in price, becoming too costly…
Will he get through it? There’s no guarantee…
If he tops hissen, what’ll happen to me?

Alto-Egos don’t always have it this easy,
Dominating Inchcock has been easy peasy!
Where will they move me? What human will I accrue?
Putin? His Alto-Ego could resign, but will he do?
I’d like to get at a human that’s evil, bloodthirsty!
For I fear I’ll get another docile twit like Inchie.

Written to create a laugh and or smile!

Inchcock v Alto – The Suicide Discussion

“Oi, pay attention, Inchcock; it’s your devoted, friendly, happy-go-lucky Alto-Ego here. Bringing you news and a…

Eh, erum… Oh, Sod-Off!

That’s nice, innit! I’ve come to warn you of the explosions in the gut, and all yer do is get antisocial wiv me?

Well, that’s cause I’m sitting here on the Porcelain Throne for the ninth time today, coping with the eruptions mentioned above in my stomach! You’re a little late in telling me…

Don’t get nasty turd-face, no need for insults! Anyway, if you want to nit-pick, I said explosion, not eruption, so there! Haha! I got here as fast as I could…

For an Alto who claims to have been in existence for thousands of years, you are very childish at times, mate… What were you doing in the guts anyway?

Obvious innit?

No!</