Angina – Page 28 – Inchie Today

Inchy Today: Sun 15th June: Computer Crashed!

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Erm, Grizelda, definitely!
Something else will come to me,
Hopes that may come true, antipoverty,
This will fail due to the oligarchy,
Peace, end to wars; I’d love to see,
Stop politicians from lying & dishonesty.
Love all, thick, thin or with aduncity,
Black, yellow, red, white or pinky,
Stop bullies who act asseveratingly,
Stop Starmer from killing another pensioner,
Use the NHS medically, not politically
All act agreeably, cooperatively, supportingly,
To those who struggle with disability,
I mean mentally as well as physically,
Could they have free balneotherapy?
Oligarchs adverts are pure baloney…
Sentencing rich & poor haphazardly,
Herr Starmer has great intransigency,
He lectures/talks recalcitrantly,
With inflexibility, audacity, and temerity,
Sycophantically, sanctimoniously…
Tells porkies, misleads, repeatedly,
A freebooter, hoodwinker, & flimflammer,
A Labour Party disavower & traitor,
Obvious to all, he’s a four-flusher,
A terminator, like Schwarzenegger,
A backhander-seeking scavenger,
Sausages & hostages, has he got aphasia?
I think he ought to try some tincture…
Arsenic, cyanide, or belladonna!
Of course, this Ode is only theoretical.
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I’M FINDING IT HARD TO BELIEVE HOW MANY ACCIFAUXPAS AND WHOOPSIEDAGLEPLOPS I HAVE HAD EVERY DAY FOR AT LEAST THE LAST SIXTEEN. ARGGH!

AT LEAST MAINLY
Naturally, the daily intake of Whoopsiedangleplops, Accifaupas, and frustrations joined the regular mistakes, failures, and self-loathing, as well as cursing my inability to do almost anything without dropping, knocking something over, forgetting, experiencing seizures, mind-blanks, or banging into various now-damaged pits of the sparse furniture and fittings. Accompanied today by Toothache Tiffany, Anne Gyna, Trotsky Terence on the Porcelain Throne, and the damned catheter tube yanking on poor Little Inchie, making his fungal lesion bleed & hurt.

The computer uploaded some photos and graphics early. All good. Doing the top section went well.
Then, when I went to empty the catheter bag, I tipped it into the WC and went to the kitchen to wash the jug. This jug, which I’ve used for the last three years or so, has disappeared; it seems to have vanished.
I went back to the computer, and it was completely blank; I couldn’t get it to reboot. No need to tell you how uptight, angry and depressed I was.
I spent hours and had two Carers call whilst I was trying everything I could think of that might have gone wrong. I gave up and moped about. I made a meal; there’s no point in photographing it. I didn’t eat much anyway. Most went into the bin.

Many hours later, I tried again. Being unsure which of the many plugs were attached to which bit of software would usually have made me very weary. But not now; I thought the computer had had its time and died a valiant death after being used every single day, sometimes for 15 hours a day, by an aged thicko. It had done well to last this long. Combined with my not being able to get anyone to take a look at the problems for me and all those times I was using it while in a seizure, it deserves a medal.

Making about my fifth search for the lost urine tub (No luck), I decided to make something to eat. As I moved nearer the sink, I caught the tough skin of the ankles against a plastic sharp lid edge. Lymphorrhoea Leslie bled away, leaving some spray of blood on the kitchen floor. It’s still there; no callers noticed it. I managed to stop the bleeding and applied a large plaster over the wound, then taped it in place. It’s not a pretty job, but when I changed it for a clean one later on, it looked okay to me. Barely a scratch, really. He says bravely. Hehe!
I had to backtrack because I went astray chronologically, and I also left the hot faucet/tap running, which resulted in losing all the hot water. Well, fancy that, I’ve not done that since yesterday, Saturday! Humph!

The Carers today were Manpreet two, Joe, then Carer Rozma; no, I think it was Carer Jyoti. But then again, I am famous for getting confused. Especially when under stress and after a series of short, sharp seizures. I had a good few of them today.
I don’t know how I found the time. Tsk!

On Joe’s last call, he helped try to sort out the computer again. We tried three times, and I was ready to give up. But Joe charged a plug socket, and we tried once again. It took ages to get it to go… But amazingly, it did. We kept getting options for each effort, but we couldn’t select them. This time, it went through, and wallah! Carer Joe did it again.
Rescued Me! Saved The Day! 👍🏻🙏🏻

Naturally, I expect that the next time I try, it will not work again, so I got on with the blog. If it doesn’t go down again, I will try my best to post this blog as soon as possible.

The computer allowed me to upload two photos taken after the calamitous Blue Screen situation was sorted by Carer Joe and blind-leading-the-blind.
Then, the reader was not identified again. Grrr!

A later-than-usual photo was taken from the kitchen window. Well, it’s now gone midnight, and this snap was taken just before.
What a fantastic sight!

This one was taken just after I got the dressing on the wounded leg. (Sympathy-seeking again? Hehe!)

Better get this posted. Matron Jackie coming tomorrow, and she can come early sometimes.
This looked much worse than it was.
When I changed the plaster and cleaned
There was no bleeding at all.

Fingers crossed that the computer starts in the morning… PLEASE! If you hear nowt for a bit, it might have packed up again. Oh, fear, great fear!

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Hoping For The Best!
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Inchy Today: Saturday 14th June 2025

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These are not in a chronological order,
But I’d like to bring back Grizelda,
See the slow death of Labour’s Starmer,
He’s more Tory than Margaret Thatcher,
Prove that Trump is getting barmier,
Putins warring, without any condemnation,
Backed by the Oligarchs conglomeration,
The West? Not even a chinwagging session,
We accept the coming desolation, perdition?

When things go wrong, I get contrarier,
And use profanity, blaspheming coprolalia,
It may be through pain or frustration,
Losing time with my blogging addiction,
Dementia Doreen, who causes me confusion,
Hysteria, delirium, drugs, intoxication?
Where do we see daily insanity & delusion?
In Governments, they turn into a dystopian,
Disheartened voters? A quattuordecillion!

A Few By-the-By Thoughts:
Whoever thought we’d stop using coal,
To save the earth? For what that is worth,
Footballers kiss when they score a goal,
Killers laugh when they are gaoled,
Judges: Life in prison commanded,
Freed in six years, hardly reprimanded,
A week later, another victim was murdered,
Eugene Brown, a killer, was then paroled,
Killed two more, a mother & son, Eduard,
Back to jail, he killed an inmate dead,
Starmer, the liar, really gets to me,
Lying like a barrister, he was one, wasn’t he,
Recalling my hatred almost abandonedly,
Maybe he’ll die of a heart attack, hopefully,
And soon would be nice, preferably,
But that won’t get back what he stole from me,
My Pensioner’s Winter Fuel payout, greedily,
But I’ll not seek revenge, almost certainly…
But, if I can repair my 303…
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04:40hrs, I leapt off of the bed, jumping over the incommodious, uncomfortable, cumbrous, toe-curling, cringe-making, second or third-hand bought from the Oxfam Charity shop, Cathleen-Catheter-Tube-Crushing, hurtful for Harold’s Haemorrhoids, germ-ridden, Horrendously grungy, uncomfortable, not-working recliner, did a double-flip, landing on my right foot, and burst into five-minutes of yodelling.
Oh, alright then…
The danged alarm went off at 04:40hrs. I anathematised, using curse words, in retaliation for the alarm going off, especially as I could not remember setting it last night. I thought I’d forgotten how to set the alarm many months ago, so I tried and failed. I do recall that because I got the voice message sign come up and can’t find out how to clear it. That is still on the screen; it has been there for over a year now. Why would I set it for this time, anyway? I lost the plot there; where was I? Ah, getting up.
I got the nocturnal catheter pouch off the day bag. A perfect colour this morning. Later confirmed by the Carer as 3.5.
The acidy niggling at being woken up feeling slowly faded. As I was up, I’d start my daily tasks.

I started with a Porcelain Throne visit. A complete reversal this time. Super messy, nae, Mega-Messy. No chance of any crosswording this morning. By the time I had cleaned myself and the porcelain, the visit had cost me half an hour.

Still, no rush was there. I shaved first. Not a single cut! Body washed. The teeth & throat gargled. The nasal clearout was done. Then I olive-oiled both ear-holes. Barrier-creamed areas that I could reach. Adjusted the tube-pulling catheter contraption straps and refitted them, and they were a lot less painful.
Then, I got dressed, put the kettle on for a brew of Glengettie tea, and changed the calendar clock. Next, I started the Health Check routine.
Much better returns again today, morning and evening ones in Normal High status. The Blood returns were both acceptable, too!

I got the computer on, and Carer Manpreet arrived.
Medications were sorted, and then she barrier-creamed Haemorrhoid Harold’s bleeding rear-end and my male breasts. Showed her where the waste bin disposal chute was in the foyer. Said our farewells.

I got started on the blogging update and stuck with it despite the interruptions and my confusion about where I was and what I was doing before them.
All welcome, just the same.
I recall thinking that a seizure or seizures may be coming on. @ve had very few lately. I remember the two-hour out-of-it spell last week when I did nothing. Well, the current confusion felt similar. I took a snap of the view from the kitchen.

Carer Mirza came just after 13:00 hours for a quick checking call; he liked my Ode. Hehe! After he’d gone, things kicked off. First, Anne Gyna came on starting in the neck area, as she often does before a big stroke, and I thought, ‘Am I going to get one?’
I did.
I think the intercom sound (Carer Mizra arriving) brought me back. It’d have been approximately 17:25 hours that I’d been out of it for about four hours. I’d done nothing. The catheter bag had filled and was painful. When the Carer came in, he noticed that the blog screen was the same as when he had left.
The disorientation had my mind all over the place.

The after-effects were so different, and four hours might be the longest one I’ve ever had. I was trying to work out what had happened and why it was so different when Carer Manpreet arrived. Memories of this visit are bare.

The puffer clouds (or whatever they are named) caught my attention.

Carer Manpreet made the last call of the day, and I was in a much clearer state of mind. After she’d issued the medications, we had a little chat. We went into the kitchen to check the taps, etc. The rain was falling as the sun went down lower. I was going to take photos but decided against it because the sun was bright and might affect my eyes’ health due to My Glaucoma. Carer Manpreet kindly took these shots from the kitchenette window, capturing both the rain and the sun for me. She also sneaked this shot on the left here, of yours truly, as I was prepping the meal for cooking. Kind of her.

The meal turned out decent. Last of the tasteless bread, only tried one slice, binned the rest. Skin on chips, sausages, last of the raw peas, and last of the beef tomatoes.

I was lucky enough to get the pots washed and settled to watch TV before the mini-seizures started.
I seemed to be having them when the adverts went off, missing so much that I gave up and clambered into bed with the nocturnal pouch. Hehe!

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Sweet Dreams, rest & Peace! 🤎
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Inchy Today: Friday 13th June 2025

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HIS MIND MEANDERS OVER THE END
I thought caring was good. Am I right?
Then I had a dream about this last night,
1941 Russia cared to attack Ukraine,
2014, Then later, Putin did it again…
Will he decide to go nuclear?
With the Middle East, end up a sandy billabong?
Who profits from this bloody bifurcation?
Oligarchs assuring weapons and ammunition?
Babies die of bullets and malnutrition,
There is no longer any safe bastion…
For the innocent, proletariat or bezonian,
No escaping the warmonger’s bothrium…
Aggressors scorn corroboration or cooperation,
It bodes gloom and fear for every citizen,
I can envisage only total annihilation,
Deaths & suffering is not in the emotional equation,
Compassion is beyond the Oligarch’s abilities,
And the aggressive, belligerent militarists,
The pouting of the toothless jingoists,
Thinking they are safe, hidden in the West,
How do they respond to the confrontationists?
They threaten with undoable, timid threats,
They likely read this in the Readers Digest,
What to do? They haven’t the slightest…
Attack or cower? Well, cometh the hour,
They’ll likely be having an all-nighter…
In a Downing Street nuclear bomb shelter,
Starmer will be busy taking a back-hander…
Trump may be consulting a witch or auger,
The chances of peace getting absurder,
Russian troops move into the French border,
Missiles launched from every western power,
The sky glows, then the earth will shatter…
St. Peter’s job is going to get busier!
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04:25hrs: The senile old chap woke up and fumbled his way out of the hospital bed that he could not recall getting into last night. Sad, innit?

Removed the attached nocturnal pouch from the day bag and saved some before emptying it for the Carer to assess/grade.

Had to divert to the Porcelain Throne.
Constipation Conrad is still in control. And, just as reluctant as yesterday to start the motion. So, a chance to have a long session with the crossword. A not very successful one, I have to admit. About 20 minutes later, the activity began, so slowly and painfully again. 5 more minutes and the last of the clumps of four almost rectangular-shaped fairly-solid turds had hit the water, Phew!

Cleaned up, did a bit of medicating, and off the kitchenette, I hobbled.
Where I took two photos of the excellent green ground surrounding the flat. The tree copse on the left, with the gravel footpath I used to walk up every day of the week. Well, not if it was icy or snowing. Then I opened the balcony end window to take a view of the car park’s dead end. I caught some of the flats on the corner. Again, there is a scarcity of birdlife for some unknown reason. But the good thing was that no seagulls were squawking about searching for squirrels, mice and smaller birds for breakfast. I expect them to arrive soon, as they seem to come inland for the wintertime, as soon as it begins to get cold on the seacoast.

I got on with updating yesterday’s Thursday blog.
Luckily, getting up early again, I was able to finish it and send it off before any of the Carer’s arrived.

Carer Elaz turned up.
Medications were issued to me. They went down without any bother today. Then Ejaz did some barrier creaming. We both agreed that the catheter leg bag changes would be on Tuesdays from here on.

ILC (Independent Living Coordinator), Oberstgruppenführeress Warden, and Primo Ballerina, Warden Deana, came to conduct an Alert Alarm Check Test with Nottingham City Homes Control. She got an engaged tone! That was a first! I mentioned the high blood pressure, and she reviewed the Excel sheet. Dean called Matron Jackie for me and explained the worries. Matron said she would call me on Monday to check things out. That was kind of Deana and Matron. Also, it prevents me from forgetting to ask Carer Joe when he comes in a while.

Back to the blogging. I was well into deleting photographs from the WordPress Gallery to save storage space, as it was blocking everything I wished to do. I’d deleted, well, I imagine, fifty graphics when Carer Joe arrived.
He checked out the Amazon catheter muslin leg bags he’d ordered for me. Finding out that they were indeed small-sized ones, I. The ones with a blue line are Large, and the brown line is medium. Comparing the ones I bought with the ones I’m wearing proved to us that we should have ordered medium or large, which are naturally more expensive. They look awfully narrow to me. Ah, well, we’ll see on Tuesday how they fit. Might be okay.

Pie in the sky on TV, I’ll make summat to eat and dine while watching it. A Favourite of mine.
Preparing this meal had its Accifauxpas moments!.
ONE: I dropped the pot with the garden peas in it. The peas that fell (20 or so) spread out all over the floor. I swore! Cleaning up, I counted the retrieved peas. All six of them. It was like ants feeling after being disturbed. How the peas knew the shortest route to get under the freezer, cooker, and cabinet is beyond my comprehension. I continued (Still cursing) to make the meal. Irish Stew, the last can. Scrapped out the fat from the top of the tin. Put the contents in a microwave-safe dish, added the gravy I had made, and stirred it…
Adding some mushroom ketchup and gently a drop of the liquid gravy thickener. The bottle just went through my fingers the moment I felt Colin Cramps kicking of in my fingers. Dropping the bottle into the food tray. Splashing some contents out onto the stove, floor, my slippers, and dressing gown.
I was losing heart and interest now!
However, I think I kept up the tirade of expletives, & blaspheming throughout my cleaning-up session.
I took off the mould from the bread. Saving a good few slices. Which dwindled each time I spotted more green mould as I dunked them in the stew while eating. Grumph! As you can see in the photo, I poured the contents into a clean, smaller bowl and the slices of bread on the small tray.
It looked horrible. But I ate most of it. Not the bread!

The tiredness was dawning early again today. I turned off the computer and went to wash the pots.
I’d left the hot water faucet/tap running again!
So, no ablutions could be done.
But, as soon as Pie in the Sky had finished showing, sleep, heavenly sleep came easily.
About two hours later, I recall having a weird but satisfying dream about Grizelda! We were doing things that I could no longer physically do, and boy, I was in euphoria!
The landline ringing dragged me from ecstasy.
It was Carer Ejaz. This morning, it was a lift out of action; now, the intercom on the outer foyer was not working. The lad could not get in! He asked me to go down to let him in. Which I did! I didn’t see a soul on my trip down to the foyer, let him in, and we went back up to the flat. Medications were issued, and barrier creaming was sorted. Quick body check. Now, the lad being even further behind with his rounds, Ejaz departed.

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Have a Great Day!
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Inchy’s Ode: Thursday 12th June 2025

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– – – TO THE LOVE OF HIS LIFE – –

My youth & teens were spent as a cycler,
A few years later, I became more adulter,
Having a motorbike license, I bought a 3-wheeler,
Driving it inside, at first, felt weirder,
It was appreciated by Grizelda,
And driving it was far less colder,
Romantically, I got a bit bolder,
Our passions began to smoulder…
I got urges, I don’t mean in my shoulder,
But she was a big gal, my Grizelda,
Lack of room hampered our kissing and cuddling,
Needed a bigger car to get my Zipperdeedoda!
I bought a Skoda Estelle, which was bigger,
Seat laid back flat: room to romp and jigger!
Satisfied each other’s needs, which was avuncular,
I was nimble, Gorgeous Grizelda was muscular,
We merged, entangled each other’s appendicular,
Blending, integrating our torsos together,
In the car, no worry about the weather,
Then things got astronomically better!
She moved into my flat that winter,
I was existing surrounded by ambrosia,
Life seemed heaven-sent, never sublimer,
She girded my loins pleasantly harder,
No female before was ever so yummier,
No female before was ever hairier,
Solid, thick thighs would squash yer…
Gawd! How I miss Grizelda!
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Crappy night’s sleep, broken again, but this time I had an idea what was causing the bursting awakes. I found myself with a sore throat and coughing after each awakening. Due to my cock-ups during the day, some of which will be admitted to and told of later, I’ve lost the time I made up a little yesterday.
Of course, I take all this in my stride.
There I go again, I’ve lied! 05:30hrs:
I gave up on my sleep-seeking.
Night catheter pouch off.

05:45hrs: Kitchen view.

Medications.

More Medications.

And, some more Medicationalisationings.

Came across my Anticoagulation Card.
2004, I think. Hehe.

Ticker & Blood Tests.

NOT GOOD AT ALL!
But at least the blood oxygen has improved.

Several hours on the blogging.

Carer Ejaz arrived.
NOT GOOD AT ALL!
He handed me the medications, and I put them in my mouth and started to pour in some spring water.
Nothing would go down my throat, tablets or water.
I gagged a bit and had to spit everything out. Some of the tablets that had been in my mouth with the water had disintegrated as I tried to swallow for a while.

Ejaz thought I’d swallowed some because he couldn’t find the tablets in the bin. I examined the waste bin I’d just spewed up in. I recognised the beta-blocker, Codeine, and Ramipril; the others had either melted of dissolved. He was told not to give me anymore again, as I may overdose. How, when I didn’t swallow any in the first place, was puzzling. It’s not the lad’s fault. I waited until he had gone and just took those I knew were needed. Codeine, Ramipril and a Beta-blocker. Shook me up a smidge. No problems taking these? Or since?

Asda delivery arrived.
I explained my problem with bending down, as I do with any not-seen-before driver, and asked if he could put the stuff in the carriers I’d supplied.
Well, if nothing else, you’ve got to appreciate the way he crammed the crisps in; it might be a crisp-pre-crushing process they are trying out?

Peas Split bag,
Tomatoes, box ripped,
Tomato bruised.
These were from Ocado last week.
Morrisons sent me a pre-crushed loaf.

Went to make a small meal.
Washing the dishes, I dropped the bowl as I emptied it. All over the floor, and trod it all over.
Washed it and realised the potatoes were probably burnt now. Taking out the oven tray, I dropped that on the just-mopped kitchen floor and realised the bottom of the slippers was now leaving grotty black marks as well!
Took the slippers off and put them in the laundry bag. Getting the other pair on… Lost my balance and hit my shoulder and armpits on the £300 second-hand shop bought in c1966. Moth-eaten, bedraggled, grotty, cringingly-beige-coloured, much-dilapidated, crumb-containing from my nocturnal nibblings, bug-ridden, itch-inspiring, not working recliner.
Eventually, I got around to making a mug of Glengettie tea. Took the meal through to the recliner and fetched the tea through. The door chime chimed.
Carer Jyoti. The meal and tea were cold when I got back to them.
I went to throw the fodder away and make another brew. I decided to make some spring water bottles to meet the demands & needs of the catheter & bladder.
Yes, I dropped the bottle! I stood there watching as it spun around, spraying water all over the kitchen floor! Although I had to force myself not to cry… the self-cursing, terrible language, Depression Duncan, and general disbelieve at the last hour’s event… followed by more bad language… I cursed myself that much, and I was shaking with anger so much that I got a rare headache.

Must remember to tell Carer Joe about the phone call I had while Carer Jyoti was here from the Social Lady regarding the wheelchair. She asked questions about various things, but I lost the plot as confused as I got. Carer Jyoti spoke with her. Can’t recall the details. I did ask for her number to ring, though, for Joe to contact her.
07812 277786 Tues > Thursday. 08:00>16:00hrs.

The muslin cover bags that Social no longer supplies, which I have to buy from Amazon, arrived.

Taking this shot of the view.
The pains from the catheter tube pullling on Little Inchie and his lesion kicked in. Tried different positions for the straps, but the bugger was still hurting when I was trying to sleep later on and into the morning. Painful!

Carer Joe called, and I told him my woes, but I don’t recall (I do a lot of this) mentioning calling the Social lady or her name. Humph!

No meal, of course. I had crisps and an ice cream.
And soon nidded off. I woke up by the arrival of Carer Ejaz. I recall a little about this call.
Ejaz took the waste bags.

As tired as I felt, fretting over this, and that caused me problems getting to sleep.
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A bad day, needless to say!
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Inchy’s Ode: Wednesday 11th June 2025

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Not my best effort, but the beauty is still evident.
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I used to be an abstentionist,
Till Starmer arrived with his Tory habits,
Bringing Keir’s bureaucracy,
Ruling backhandedly, rigidly,
He lies so well and repeatedly,
As PMs go, he’s the most antihumanistic,
His waffles are unintelligible & anticlimactic,
Making voters most antagonistic,
Starmerishly: insincerely; obsequiously, Sycophantically, unscrupulously, & deviously,
Often proving his own sincerity,
A scamster, defalcator, backhander-taker,
It’s time to bring in the undertaker!
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Yet another night of ever-jumping-awake, despite my tiredness, which helped me get back to sleep after each jerking awake in a reasonably short time. But there were so many of them. Dark Dank Depression Duncan came into the equation, and the periods of bliss were getting shorter every time.
I gave up and clambered out of the £300 second-hand shop-bought in 1966, moth-eaten, bedraggled, grotty, cringingly-beige-coloured, much-dilapidated, crumb-containing from my nocturnal nibblings, bug-ridden, itch-inspiring, not working recliner.
I noted that the catheter’s nocturnal drainage pouch urine was a lighter colour for a change this morning. Last night’s overtiredness had left some of its debris, and it took a while for me to gain semi-clarity, but I did.
I gathered the health-checking gear together and started doing the Ticker, Blood, temp’ & oxygen test. The results varied somewhat; the blood tests were an improvement in the last few days.
However, just look at the SYS and BP results above.
Not very encouraging, are they?
03:40hrs: I decided to get my ablutions & medications done early. The pot marks in the lower regions from the catheter contraption straps, tubes, and bits had started bleeding, so I’ll need to use the Porcelain Throne, shave, and shower, and all the creams, drops, sprays, and ointments will be tended to as well. It’s a good thing I got up early then. I removed the catheter’s muslin bag, but I couldn’t find the one that I’d washed yesterday. (Nothing unusual there). I’d like to concentrate on the ablution tasks, not wanting any more knocks or tumbles. Thank you very much.

I must admit, I got the muslin bag off of the leg with no bother at all! The cartilage pain seemed to be on holiday. Hehe!
Another bonus is that I didn’t leave the hot water tap dripping away overnight this time. Started on the throne, another long job. Still, minimal cleaning up is needed. Although, I did notice that the walking stick’s ferrules were leaving dark marks on the wetroom floor. I used the four-pronged Metal Mickey stick. I’ll have to give that a wash afterwards; it made a right mess.
Got the teggies done. The teeth are so rotten that pain from Toothache-Tiffany was inevitable.

The shaving went so well, just one teeny weeny nick on my neck. Next, the shower.

Again, I was amazed at the lack of Accidauxpas and or Whoopsiedangleplops! I thoroughly enjoyed that shower. It would have been even better, but when I went to sit on the shower chair after scrubbing my flabby body and skinny legs, Cartilage Choe snapped painfully. I would not risk bending the knee enough to sit on that low chair. Still, no moaning. It was a good session under the shower all the same. I was expecting a tumble, slip, a bruising knock or something of that ilk throughout. But I escaped the shower, turned the power off, got a towel from the heater ready to dry myself off, and realised how well things had really gone up to now. This put me in ‘Alert Mode’. I dried off, using paper towels for the catheter bag. Now for the medications.

I started with the medicationings. And again, things went well once more, well, obviously not the Ointmenting of Little Inchies fungal lesion. That is usually the major paingiver. Harold’s Haemorrhoids handle the Germoloid ointment well. My Spanish Onion-sized right testicle almost welcomed the Savlon creaming. I couldn’t reach all the barrier cream-needing areas. I’ll ask the Carer to do them later for me. Then, seeing the ferrule marks reminded me to wash the four-pronged Metal Micky, the walking stick.
I let him soak in the sink for a while with spirit vinegar, bleach and washing-up liquid mixed in.
But the towel and togs in the laundry basket, and got a khagoule on.
Then went back with a stiff brush to clean Wally’s ferrules in the wetroom.
It took a bit of effort, but I appreciated that I’d had no Whoopsies of any kind during the ablutions – this had not happened for months!
I remained on ‘Alert Mode.’

I filled bottles of spring water and a brew of 99 tea. Then, I got the computer on. But not for long. I got an unexpected rumbling-innards call back to the Porcelain Throne. How did things soften up so quickly? This is all a part of the mysteries of this block of flats, with the apparitions, phantoms, succubi and the paramnesias, who torment residents… well, me, anyway! Hahaha!

Carer Ejaz came. Full-body check and barrier cream were applied where I couldn’t reach the areas.

Blogging.
Only one recognised seizure. Up to now.
Carer Joe; laundry taken down. Letters opened. He rang the Audio place about the appointment I’d missed. Medications, Peptac given.

Got something to eat, bacon sarnies, and fell swiftly asleep. Zzzz!

Early Little Nosh

Late Little Nosh

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TTFNski Each
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Inchy’s Ode: Tuesday 10th June 2025

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I looked from my kitchenette window,
Viewing my favourite tree copse below,
I checked on my cooking avgolemono,
Listened to the bird’s calling in arioso,
But not a single one was in view, though,
My hectic life went into adagio,
So few clouds today were on show,
Why? Well, nature would know,
Someone gave their car hooter a blow…
Down photo the cars in this banlieue,
Parking spaces are free, that’s not usually so
To the left, my camera did go,
Bushes, animals in the undergrowth,
Squirrels, birds, insects, I imagine,
Foxes, beavers, fungi & moles may be hiding,
I had to stop, to do my abluting,
Constipation Conrad, painful to get moving,
Medications, Morphine, Furosomide, Amoxicillin,
Lansoprazole, Peptac, and Warfarin,
Beta Blockers, Ramipril & Codeine,
Olive oiled the ears, Phorpain & Atorvastatin,
Various body parts needed barrier-creaming,
Harold Haemorrhoids needed Germoloiding,
Eyes sprayed and nasal drops squirting,
Little Inchies fungal lesion ointmenting,
By the time it was done, I felt done in,
Food arrived from Mr Sainsbury,
I got it all put away,
I’ll not starve today,
Dusk already, where went the day?
This arrived for the Carer’s to see…
It came from the NHS for me,
IF YOU FIND ANYONE IN A SEIZURE
Grand meal at the end of the day, Irish Stew,
With bread and sausages, too!
Garden peas added, more than a few,
Today, there was less ballyhoo.

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Fare Thee Well
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Inchy Mon 9 June 25: Whoopsiedangleplops Unabated!

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An ever awakening, lousy night’s kip,
Today, I all but lost the script…
Started okay but ended up like a damp squid,
I wouldn’t have today again for a 1,000,000 quid!
I really was error-ridden and sad…
I tried to contact Mum & Dad; it was that bad,
These things listed, I suffered and had…
I’ve now got a bruised, bleeding toenail,
A computer that drove me up the wall,
CorelDraw’s not useable at all!
The photo reader? Photos unacquirable!
Not working, no access, most frustratable!
Dropped the saucepan and a bottle…
What a mess and kerfuffle!
Again, I had a dizzy and took a tumble,
Hot water left to run cold, so unavailable,
These events are not chronological,
The last few days have been terrible,
Today, I upgraded to abominable,
Told my Carer my woes, sounding comical,
My brain was cynical, then went cryptical,
Self-hatred, guilt, thoughts pathetical,
Accepting again, no longer controversial,
Then in crept a new idea… it was crematorial,
Life seems circumscribable yet choplogical…
The wave of bad luck that’s unstoppable?
Here’s the early photos that were importable,
Urine assessment, colourful…
The kitchen view is not so colourful,
Calendar clock, just before my first tumble,
So glad I got the Copse shot; it is beyond beautiful,
Made room for the next delivery, but minimal,
Ordered some medicine, bronchial,
I worried not of anything cosmeceutical,
But, struggled with anything practical,
Had a few wicked thoughts that were biblical,
My dreams were either cryptical or cynical…
Will Starmer ever be assassinationable?
Nothing’s straightforward but curvilineal,
It’s been too long since I had a cuddle,
Failures; is it me that is culpable?
As for when I last got romantic & coital…
Which is now physically impossible…
I might be coming across as cacodaemoniacal?
As I await things becoming cataclysmical,
I dreamt of things perfect, paradisaical,
Then the dream sort of went physical…
I fell out of bed; it could have been lethal,
The catheter bag burst, forming a puddle!
Cleaning things up, I got in a muddle,
Will a day ever again be wonderful?
With heavenly moments of being peaceful?
Or stay mausoleal & ever depressible?
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Today was another struggle,
Not everything was detrimental,
High-Mood-Horis (HMH), my virtual alchemist…
Sadly, missed me off of his visiting list,
Dark Deep Dank Depressing Duncan didn’t!
His visit & my plans had no denouement,
If I had any, I may have taken a deliriant,
HMH brings a temporary disentanglement,
This turns me into a temporary recusant.
A couldn’t-care-lesser dissident,
But HMH’s visits are unreliable & transient,
Concerns, fears and worries are agitated,
The easy-going moments are replaced,
Check stocks of medications & liniment,
Taos & catheter need to be checked,
Mistakes, accifauxpas, are re-afflicted,
Self-battles, arguments to be altercated,
Thoughts to be abandoned or alternated,
Food out-of-date to be oven-incinerated,
The meaning of life, not yet comprehended,
Waiting for death, to be awarded.
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I LIVE IN HOPE – I ACCEPT FAILURE
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Inchy’s Ode: Sunday 8th June 2025

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When I was ten, I was accused of debauchery,
I asked Dad if that meant moral decay or indecency,
He replied; Well, more decadency & depravity,
None of these words meant owt to me,
Get that wood chopped; we need to make money,
Or the whole family will end up eleemosynary!
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Of course, romance played a big part in my life,
Not that I ever got around to a wife…
Plans in that area left all skewwhiff,
What wiv me being under-tackled & a dwarf,
Romance? I wetted many a handkerchief,
At 14, passions & urges beginneth,
Old age? Satisfactions no longer cometh,
The only urge is to live until your hundredth!
Of course, I’m talking in Double-Dutch!
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Vit B12 shortage, problems, aneurysmatic
I’m not bothered, I’m almost apathetic,
But I’m keeping up being altruistic,
Joanne has a trapped nerve; doctors call it a tick?
Her Catheter problems, too, are autonomic,
Starmer rants on, being absolutistic,
Existing life gets more threnetic,
His action get evert more anapodeictic,
The UK is like Atlantis or the Titanic,
As Keir takes backhander, sipping gin & tonic,
Seeking self-wealth, to be aristocratic,
His lies leave a taste, foully aromatic,
Leaders, bring the end of all things telluric,
The chance of surviving? Microscopic, or telescopic!
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A rush job from here on, I’m afraid. Please forgive any mistakes, errors, or logical inconsistencies. Things missed off, anything out of sync. In fact, any Whoopsiedangleplopperies. I thank you.
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Pretty pink this morning, Haha!

Carer took this snap after an earlier tumble.
Don’t think I’ve used it before.

AGAIN! Concrete comes to mind.

My ankles looking better this morning.

Morning view.
This one was taken higher up.

Carer Rozma called. Meds, she checked my strong, muscular, young, driving-women-mad body.
Alright, alright, I was only joking. Hehehe!
Treat the back, & toes. I’ve acquired new pains under the same two toes on each foot. She said no marks or discolourations were showing. I suppose it might be the rheumatism spreading?

The bottom field looked attractive. Now, they have moved the empty bottles, carrier bags, birth-prevention rubbers, food and used needles away.
Although they do not show in this photo, the gorgeous spring flowers are blooming. Buttercups, daisies, crocus, I think I recognised in the zoomed-in shot on the camera that I took of them. Another of the mysteries of Woodthorpe Court is the presence of hobgoblins, spectres, gnomes, phantasms, ghosts, grotesque succubi, extraterrestrials, ectoplasm, and spirits. Or the Fata Morganas that have been sent to taunt, irritate and terminate my already limited saneness of mind. My faith, sanity, and logicality were already on the wane. Accompanied by Receptive Aphasia Phyllis, Paroxysmal dyskinesia, Episodic ataxia, Ménière’s disease, FND, Dark, Deep, Depressing Duncan, Peripheral Neuropathy Pete, Nicodemus Neurotransmitters Dying, Glaucoma Gladys, various types of seizures, Stuttering Stephany, Lymphorrhea Leslie, Premordid Cognitive Impairment Inchie and Fata Morganas.

Along with murdering Starmer in power. Whoopsiedangleplops, ailments, extraterrestrials, abilities fading and reducing, Accifauxpas, rent increases, food price hikes. Plus, the arrival of a new hopelessness & despair never known before.
Just thought that I’d mention it. The Doctor might read this. Not that anything will change, but rather more a nudge to pinpoint guilt and beg for help.

The afternoon events reminiscences are sketchy. A long blank in the notes on the pad. Seizures, I assume, along with my confused state of mind.
It’s better than no mind… or is it?

What few notes I found for the evening were largely unreadable, apart from a few odd words. They are scrawled yet bold. Was I angry at myself for something? Of no use, but I’ll copy those I could decipher, for you and me to imagine what I was writing: ‘_onrad off again.’ ‘needs correcting.’ ‘come it.’, and ‘_ r _ing’, ‘far t_ _ welcome’.

Late evening views.
Can you see the ghost or the rabbit?

Carers Rozma, Manpreet & Mizra today.
I’m almost sure it was.

So tired and confused. This came on earlier than usual. Boy, did I need, want sleep! Had to wait for the last Carer, so dared not sit down to fall asleep yet; I’d not hear the intercom when the Carer rang it to let them in. Once she came, did me, and left, I made some food. I had the last of the gorgeous but tooth-damaging Hunter sausages. And took extra care not to burn the potatoes.

Well, I did, but not a lot, as you can see.

A final photo.
I was surprised at how light it came out.
Have I used the wrong one again? Tsk!

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LIFE IN CELL 72 – It’ll have to do, HEHE!

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Inchy’s Ode: Saturday 7th June 2025

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I recall when life seemed concatenated,
When Mother left no questions unanswered,
Except when she was in prison, then it’d be Dad,
When the grass was greener, the peace peacefuller,
Folks either deeply religious or had Zeusophobia,
Serious & farcical things were confabulated,
Doors unlocked, yards were ungated…
Saucepan bottoms were copper-plated,
Boots-crappers & doorsteps were washed,
We got more than money in gratifications,
A pride when we got it right, no bonuses,
Oh, yes, there were many sybaritisms,
Some innocent, playful, many a teaser,
No need for drugs or booze to find pleasure,
Things changed so fast as I grew older,
No doubt the world’s grown absurder,
Time runs out for passion and adventure,
Stopped the death penalty, 1964, November,
Now, it’s daily murder after murder,
Which is not suitable for a worrier,
Scarier, now we have elected Starmer!
How can he claim to a PM that’s Labour?
Keir’s anti-pensioner, farmer and worker,
I reckon he’s also a misandristic anthropophobic,
The truth, reality? He’s totally denialistic,
Starmer the dangerous, spurious, demagogic,
The word to describe him is bisyllabic!

HINTS AND TIPS FOR WHIPPER-SNAPPERS,
ON POSSIBLE UPCOMING HEALTH RISKS,
Kicking off with a duodenal ulcer,
Optician, dentist, hearing aids, then a Carer,
Life gets to treat you uncaringly & unfairer,
Oh, you’ll get shot twice, I did, in 1986, September,
See how easy it is to distantly remember?
A new mechanical Aorta Valve for the ticker,
A Stroke that took me ages to recover…
Sent to a nursing home, not again, please, never!
Then, Cartilage agony & Peripheral Neuropathy,
Which will later be reassessed as being FND,
Went deaf, got Anne Gyna, then, this frit me…
Dementia, Psychoneurosis, Incogniscent Impairment,
Neurotransmitter went out of alignment,
My brain not reading the messages that they sent,
My nerve ends are unable to be acquiescent…
Visa Vera, to the instructions the brain sent!
That’s why I find myself on the floor, amazed,
I went to bedlam to be further appraised,
Had many of these for the Dementia, I was aghast,
Diagnosed Lewy body dementia,
Then, Alzheimer’s diabetic Dementia
Then it changed to vascular Dementia,
Next, possibly Frontotemporal Dementia?
But the last one was not even Dementia…
PreMordid Cognitive Impairment, more tests, I fear,
You may suffer more; all anthropogenic,
You’ll need to keep medications, antileukemic,
You’ll need drugs, alcohol or mayhap tools alembic,
The world’s end will not necessarily be atomic,
Afford a spot in a shelter; it’ll be claustrophobic,
Any faiths left will likely be Oligarch or Druidic,
Meeting your end, try to be rhapsodic…
I can get cannabinoids, CBD all synthetic,
Then you can die euphoric, cause you lived pilgarlic!
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Another short on detail job. Another day of being with it and out of it! Called twice on me, though. It’s time for a third visit, I hope.
Of course, my regular can-be-certain of well-outdid Horis.
I had several mini-seizures while Carer Mizra and then Carer Manpreet called. When talking and subjects change, it is impossible to get back to what I was going to say. Although Carer Mizra has an excellent memory and helped me regain some things that had slipped permanently into oblivion. Hehehe!

Classed as an NHS 6 on the scale.

First view from the kitchenette window.
A smidge bleak looking.

Off to the Porcelain Throne.
Which gave me plenty of time to tackle the crosswords. I didn’t do too well today. I found three errors from yesterday, but I was unable to find the correct answers to a single clue. Humph!
I went back to the kitchen to gather the necessary items for my ablutions… . Only to find I’d left the danged flipping hot water tap running yet again! A bit of naughty language was involved in the self-lambasting that followed.

I dangerously had to carry hot water from the kitchen sink on three trips so I could have a shave. No accidents, and only one cut shaving under my chin.
One more water trip and I got back to the wet room with a bucket of hot water, enough to use in the stand-up scrub-up, safely… !
I stubbed my toes against the porcelain pedestal. Smack on the ingrowing toenail toe! It hurt so much more than usual; I think this is not a good sign.

Somehow, as I was doing the medicating, a headache like the one from yesterday kicked in over the same left eye and up onto the top of the head. Then, the depression joined in, and I kept going into reality and out of it and carried on all day. I was a totally different idiot than the one who woke up two hours ago! Concentration crumbled.

I took a snap of the much-change view.

Went to change the clock calendar and make a start on the Friday blog. Carer Manpreet (I think) arrived. I got lost trying to keep up with the conversation, as it constantly shifted between subjects. Manpreet, a pleasant gal, issued the medications; I asked for Peptac and an extra 30g of Codeine. The headache had now been joined by Anne Gyna on one of her more virile attacks. This only confused me further.
I think I’m getting the timings out of sync again. Manpreet came well before I went on the computer. Sorry about that. I’ll carry on if you don’t mind. We shared farewells, and the gal departed. I must try to concentrate. I got the computer out of sleep mode, determined to get the Friday blog finished early.
I didn’t, of course!

I started on the blog. Then, I realised I had no clean nightwear, so I had to wash one out for the morning.
So, I did

As I started once more to finish the blog, neighbour Jenny 🍪🌺💗 came in with some bikkies for me; bless her. Now, things got even worse. I had completely forgotten about the blog and started searching the web for Birds Eye Potato Bites. Ocado had some online. But I don’t need an order yet. However, when I invested, I found that they were cheaper than J Sainsbury, which does not sell them for delivery; they are only available in-store. However, Ocado was selling them for £10 for 5. £2.52 a single pack. I made an order for the week after next – I hope they are still on offer then.

Then, as I got back to starting the blog… The Catheter Contraption supplies were delivered. I put the box on the bed (and forgot about it; it is still there).

Then, as I got back to starting the blog… Carer Mizra (I think) arrived. I honestly can’t remember much until the evening; I went into a confused state of grade 1 mode, baffled, basically.

Can’t recall taking this. Rain again.

Remember the lady who does my hand laundry who didn’t turn up last week? She arrived. The good bit is she was not poorly, but on holiday and forgot to tell me about it. She took all the dirty nightshirts with her. I have two left, one of which will have to be washed each day until she brings the others back. I’m so glad she was not ill; bless her.

PM shot, I presume

Mizra and Rosma did the Carer calls today. (I think)

I found this on the SD card.
Possible Friday or Saturday meal.
No, this is Saturdays. I remember using the last of the potato bites now.
And burning my finger as I was getting them out of the oven and dropping the tray on the floor.
Ah, it’s coming back…

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I MUST CONVINCE THE DOCTOR I NEED HELP – Hehe!
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Inchy’s Ode: Friday 6th June 2025

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Regrettably, Odeless, Oh, go on then!
Due to, well, Inchy acting antipathetically,
With confusion tormenting him unrelentingly,
Confusion Konrad was with me all Friday,
Visits from Anne Gyna, too regularly,
Duodenal Donald, and maybe even Svengali,
Depression Duncan, Shaking Shoulder Shirley,
Dizzy Dennis, Flatulent Frank & Cartilage Chloe,
Seizures, apparitions, t’was almost ghostly…
It was mental problems, I think primarily,
Leaving my body sensations via FND,
These used to really worry me…
I’ve told the Doctor, who smiled unworridly,
And asked me the colour of my pee,
After each one, I made a mug of tea,
Tasty Co-op 99, or Welsh Glengettie,
I didn’t actually get to drink any,
A seizure, mind-wander, or my memory…
So many tasks I’d delay or belay,
Talking? I’d forget what I was going to say,
But to be fair, that happens quotidianly,
Now, this headache will not go away!
Aches behind the eyes, & just above, painfully,
I notice it more when Anne Gyna goes away,
The hot water tap was left on twice today,
I did it again early morning on Saturday,
I seem to have little control emotionally,
Though I’ve got a little more physically,
I did take a tumble, landed on my left knee,
A good job; the catheter bag was almost empty,
Harassed Arthur Itis and Cartilage Chloe,
Stomach pains again due to the dodgy chillie?
My fungal lesion bleeds on Little Inchie,
I’m farting about here, willy-nillie!
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Very Sparse Blog Today.
Mainly Cause My Mine Kept Going Away.
CHEERS!

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The nocturnal pouch leaked, so I emptied it sharply into the day jug for the Carer to dispose of it.

Oh, rain!
Taken through the kitchen window.

Got the taken-off nightshirt and hand-washed it in the kitchen bowl.

Took another snap.

Took yesterday’s washed shirt down.

I hung up this morning’s hand-washed shirt to dry on the shower curtain rail.

I’d been doing well up to here.
Honestly, I had so many mini-seizures that I just couldn’t count them. Then Anne Gyna, Doudenal Donald and the mystery stomach pains all came on together. Now, (Sat a.m.) I can’t even remember which Carer’s called morning and midday!
This was the start of the launching of the Konrad Confusion attacks of the day. Depositing firmly in my psyche for the day. As far as I’m aware, the poor only got one little burst today. And that was soon over. It only lasted a few minutes, then for no apparent reason, returned.
The thoughts seemed to get more and more confused and pointless. I knew I was in for a mental battering. How did I know that? I’ve not got the foggiest, but I recall trying to get my mind girded to lessen the effects. What does that mean, anyway? Why did I type that? Things were going the same way on Sat. Woke up feeling fair, and then I sank.

The ankles were in excellent condition!
If I could get my brain the same? Oh, Joy!

One minute, I’d be reasonably aware and able to concentrate a little – then back to the confused conglomeration of confusion, uncertainties, doubts, fears, indecision, and an irresistible self-loathing you would never believe if I did try to explain it.
Throughout the miserable day, it was getting harder to bother or do anything. Despair, hopelessness, or resignedness reigned. Any word or all of them currently feels like a suitable word to explain my feelings. Also, the same this morning, a sort of acknowledgement of my inabilities. I’ve just read this! Sorry that it sounds so dark. But it is. I’ll try to brighten things up a smidge.

I don’t think I’ve used this snap of the Kiddies Meal. Chilli-Con-Carni with rice. I believe the things I add to it might be the reason for my stomach aches.
Mushroom Ketchup, onion powder, dried basil, and the last of a jar of Jung Po sauce.
It might be advisable, if I remember to do so, to ask a Carer to check the sell-by dates on the items as mentioned earlier. I can’t even read them with my reading glasses on or using the spyglass. Which, incidentally, I can no longer find. Hehe!

A Carer came on the last call as I was about to take an evening shot of the view from the kitchen window.
Blown if I know why, but this was when a short visit from suddenly came on. By the time I’d taken the photo, I was pleased with the result. Horis dissolved, disappeared, vanished, faded, or evaporated minutes after arriving?

I recollect feeling a little cheated and sorry for myself. I’m well aware that does not repair feelings of depression. But while he’s in situ, I couldn’t care less and know full well that the return of is imminent and expected. But High-Mode-Horis has never made such a minuscule visit before. His calls are getting far less frequent as well this week.

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Hoping things improve!
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