Inchy: Friday 14th February 2025

15/02/2025 / Inchie / 12 Comments

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SMUG MODE ENGAGED
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Continued from yesterday
This Friday, I feel horrible and grottier…
More depressed than when I was a gravedigger,
Mindful of failures, thoughts gongoozler,
I mustn’t moan & be a gossipmonger,
Emotions, thoughts like a mental-galumpher,
A change in my luck would be a game-changer!
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Plots, decision-making harder, see a headshrinker?
Depression strikes; it’s like getting a mental haymaker,
With sudden spots of uncaring contentment, however,
Following each low, it seems scarier, hairier,
The Sod ’em mode returns with spirits even higher?
Depression; I’m becoming a Harrumpher!
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What I’d give for a sanity-reinstaller,
Now my thoughts have caught implicature,
I’m worried about life’s confusing infrastructure…
And the brain neurotransmitters & infostructure,
I’m feeling much more insecure…
Oddly, on the lows, I feel so immature!
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When on a high, I’m no joypopper,
In fact, I can be a bit of a jester,
On a low, my mind was like a junketeer,
Back comes a high, & I’m joyfuller,
Doing a crossword, or a jigsaw,
These up moments are much janglier!
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On a high: Life seems so much kinder,
A low, life gets instantly knottier,
They’re like a mental-kneecapper,
A high returns, back to things kindlier
Depression, again, is a mental killer!
I feel done up like a kipper!
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I feel I could turn back to the liquor…
With depression sent me by Lucifer,
In life, I’m just a leaseholder…
The home had no electricity but a walk-in larder,
The shop I had turned out to be a lossmaker,
Now depressions, life is lurider!
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Hello! I’m feeling mirthfuller!
Or is this, though, just misconjecture?
I don’t want to misinfer,
But I feel far less mustier,
Huh! depression back, the meddler,
Suddenly, I’m back in an emotional mire!
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Seizures can affect people differently, depending on which part of the brain is involved. I know!

Some seizures cause the body to jerk and shake, while others cause problems like loss of awareness or unusual sensations. They typically pass in a few seconds or minutes.
Seizures can occur when you’re awake or asleep. Sometimes, something can trigger them, such as feeling very tired after exercising. I’ve got them…

Simple partial (focal) seizures or ‘auras’
A simple partial seizure can cause:
A general strange feeling that’s hard to describe.
I’ve got these as well…

A “rising” feeling in your tummy – like the sensation in your stomach when on a fairground ride.
(Too true!) I’ve got them…

A feeling that events have happened before (déjà vu).
Spot on! I’ve got them…

Unusual smells or tastes.
(Oh, yes), I’ve got them…

Neurological Tingling in your arms and legs. An intense feeling of fear or joy.
(Too true!) I’ve got them as well…

Stiffness or twitching in parts of your body, such as an arm, joint, or hand. Twitching Neck Nigel, Shoulder Shuddering Shirley, Peripheral Neuropathy Pete Hitler Salutes, & Leg Dances – got them all!

You sometimes remain awake and can often be unaware while this happens. I know, I’ve got them too!

These seizures are sometimes known as “warnings” or “auras” because they can be a sign that another type of seizure is about to happen.
Yes, I’ve got these, as well!

Tonic seizures: Your muscles can suddenly become stiff, like the first stage of a tonic-clonic seizure. This might mean you lose balance and fall over.
I went tumbled twice yesterday!

If you have a seizure, your GP may refer you to a specialist to determine the cause. Hahaha!

You’ll usually see a neurologist, an expert in conditions affecting the brain and nerves.
I’ve done that, waiting for surgery. Hope they can remove Dementia Doreen. Hehe!

They’ll want to find out more about your seizure and may suggest having some tests.
The Doctor? Not mine!
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Depressed for so long today!
Can’t shake them off, but I keep going into the opposite state, a sort of ‘Sod It’ I’m Not Bothered’ mode every now and then?
Singing, uncaring, amazing. The up modes are rare but lovely despite them being short periods. ‘Deep-Depression-Duncan’ (DDD) keeps returning for no apparent reason?
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I had a decent but short sleep. I nodded off early and sprang awake in a DDD mood at 03:30hrs.
Changed the catheter bags, and visited the wetroom..
Beyond Messy!

Had a wash and did the medication, no shaving.
The right ankle ulcer looked less inflamed than yesterday. Electric shocks have been shooting up my right leg on and off all day today. The seizures were less frequent than usual, although I did have one before getting the computer on. That lasted for an aeon. Well, it felt like it. But I did no work on the computer. I found that I’d changed the clock calendar.

I got myself all involved in doing some more word-finding for the Odes. I’m addicted. I have no idea why. I spent hours on Word Hippo. I still have not completed the first file!

Carer Chris and then Carer Joanne made the first two calls.

In the late afternoon, I went to make a brew of tea in a vain effort to rid myself of DDD. The garden man had another fire on the go, so I got the Kodak Tim and took two snaps.
The fire looked a little larger than on Thursday.
At one stage, I thought the trees may set alight.
But no, all was well. The chap seems in control.
But what is he burning? Doesn’t matter really.

I got the blog done and sent it off to WP. Then, I went on the WP reader. Some great posts on there today

Caught the sun, a rarity in the sky today.
I don’t think there will be a sunset tonight.

Went on the WP comments.

I’m waiting for the teatime Caregiver, so I plan to prepare a meal. Potato cakes, perhaps? With garden peas? Nordic bacon? Beetroot? Pickled onions?
Of course, if DDD returns, I may not bother eating at all. But I hope I’m not tempted like I was last night to crack open the cider and beer. I didn’t, but it was a close thing! I’m sick to death of these repeating low spells today; I hope DDD does not return again. Dare I dream?

Potato cakes, fishcakes, tomatoes, beetroots.
A simple meal for a simple dimwit.
I loved it!
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I washed the pots and settled into the £300 second-hand shop-bought, c1966, moth-eaten, bedraggled, grotty, cringingly beige-coloured, much-dilapidated, crumb-containing from my nocturnal nibblings, bug-ridden, itch-inspiring, not-working recliner to watch an episode of my favourite, ‘Heartbeat’, on the TV. Which I did. As I sat there in a ‘high-mode-mood’, enjoying the storyline, and the commercials came on the box, I thought it advisable to nip and check in the kitchen to make sure I’d not left the tap running, the oven on, or the fridge and freezer door ajar. So, I did just that!
As I stood up to catch my balance, I felt my left foot was wet, which made me investigate… Yes! Once again, the release valve on the day the catheter had opened was probably my fault, and I’d involuntarily peed into my slipper!

Now, I faced the dauntingly painful task of getting the wet sock off. What a struggle! I had to stick the picker-upper-grabber on the toe end of the sock and try to pull the foot away to start freeing the sock. Bearing in mind the agony from as I bent the knee, I gave that effort up.
I got the diabetic sock as far down as I could with the help of the picker-upper-grabber. This was not very successful—a little like me in life! I took a tumble. But an hour later, I felt exhausted after struggling to get back up. However, at long last, I’d got the sock off. I think I ought to apply for some kind of medal? Hehehe!

I had to soak the socks in powder and disinfectant in the sink’s bowl. Then, I used the carpet cleaner and freshener around the recliner spillage area. I spread tons of kitchen towels and trod on them again several times.

I was exhausted and was now suffering from the attentions of Back-Pain-Brenda, Cartilage Chloe, Electric Shocking Sherida, and Anne Gyna.

I sprayed the slipper and put it in with the laundry for washing.

I rinsed the diabetic socks I’d left soaking, wrung them out, and put them on a coat hangar to dry above the kitchen sink.

The next job was to clean the left foot. I used the overworked kitchen bowl again. Throughout these disablingly painful procedures, Dark Dank Depression Duncan did not bother me, nor, as far as I’m aware, did I have any seizures.

Carer Chris did the last check call. No socks to take off tonight. Amazed that I’d taken off myself. (So was I, Humph!)
The lad took the laundry bag with the socks down for me, along with the waste bag.

Life can be so disturbing & worrying. Hehe!
Every Day a Challenge…
Well, bring them on, mush!

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All the ‘Best of Luck’ sent through the ether!

Inchy Wednesday 12th February 2025

13/02/2025 / Inchie / 6 Comments

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I seem to have acquired more blameworthiness,
Does this come from my apparent guiltworthiness?
Or possibly, from my innocence & guiltlessness?
May it be due to my banal gullibleness?
It could be from my gutlessness or gutsiness,
My seizure episodes that bring gormlessness?
My life lived with no moments of being gregarious?
Or my periods of excessive garrulousness?
A lifetime of receiving sideways glances?
Undoubtedly, my depression and gloominess?
Or my lack of confidence, which is ginormous?
My infected brain has a certain grotesqueness,
My ageing body shows signs of ghostliness,
Mind & body decaying, it’s getting grievous,
As I mentioned earlier, always the guiltiness,
My search for painlessness was gainlessness,
Surviving life’s been a stab in the dark, a guess!
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Not the best of days.

At least I got some good sleep. It was broken, of course, but I reckon I still enjoyed a whopping seven hours. Nice!
The nocturnal pouch clour was another 4 on the NHS scale. With the Health Checks doing so well, I was well-pleased, to say the least.

A morning of mini-seizures. I’m not surprised; I was notified of a change in living circumstances late in the day. My own fault; only me or Doreen Dementia is to blame.

The seizures didn’t help. I struggled with the odeing and spent far too much time (Over four hours) trying to flow right. I’m not all that sure I improved it.

No confidence today. Plenty of the ankles sending electric shocks up the ankle, and the seizures, albeit they were short ones, I think, handicapped my brainpower.

A morning shot of the kitchenette view.

Adjusted the calendar clock.

And the biggest, well, most prolonged Seizure ever visited me.
I cannot recall much; the blanks were long.

In the late afternoon, I got the letter hand-delivered informing me about the upcoming changes.

Oh, I’ve not put the delivery photos on yet. So, I will.
Some of my favourite eats were delivered.
But I was not in the mood to feel cheerful
about anything.

The Natoora tomatoes were a bit soft, but I used them in the meal later. They were tasty!
Chessy-topped cobs.
I’ll have two of them tonight.
The fridge was looking fuller now.

Now it’s Nosh Time.
Battered onion rings were done in the oven.
The mini Spanish tomatoes were thrown away; they tasted terribly bitter. All else was eaten.
In my depression, I forgot to score the taste.
And cannot remember what I gave it.

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Cheerio Each!
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Inchy: Tuesday 11th February 2025

12/02/2025 / Inchie / 3 Comments

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A PROBLEM-SOLVING ODE
I have difficulty nowadays with problem-solving,
They keep coming, constantly revolving,
Solutions, Dementia is abnegating,
With her, I find myself argufying,
Neither side prepared for amnestying,
She seems against consciousness-expanding,
Memory-Mangling-Malcolm is not attenuating,
I spend far too much time error-correcting,
Instead of problem ameliorating,
Anne Gyna refuse pain subjugating,
My brain is beyond any aestheticising,
And I cannot take any more criticising,
Nit-picking, mockery or Starmer’s lying,
Crooked politicians, I find aggravating,
To hopes, I am no longer clutching,
I find life fatiguing and debilitating,
For Starmer, the hatred I’m harbouring,
His lack of compassion is inturbidating,
The Labour Party he is torpefying…
With his lying, fiddling & cheating,
His hatred of pensioners is unrelenting
He financially crippled anyone farming,
Thus, I find myself Starmer vernacularising!
Pensioners he has robbed & now he’s killing,
How he’s escaped prosecution is concerning,
He knows the crimes of others? It’s unnerving,
Is this why the opposition isn’t even chiding?
If they did, may they be in for good hiding…
Does he know of others’ financial juggling?
How to stop him? Revolution energising,?
To get my hopes pulsating, piquing…
To read of his painful, slow dying,
I’d celebrate by doing much imbibing!
It’s past time that he should be resigning,
Each day the git stays, the more I’m spitting!
I’ve few teeth left, but they are gritting…
He should leave, take up birdwatching,
Best suited would-be Emus; Australian,
With his record, he needs chloroforming,
With his cabinet, there’s been little conferring,
Apart from his drinks cabinet, port drinking,
He needs help, maybe some counselling,
By the Grim Reaper would be a good thing!
Assassination, I’m not considering…
Although assassination has a comforting ring…
His decisions may soon start boomeranging,
If the end comes, & he goes… that’ll be bracing,
Starmer will need swiftly replacing,
Mayhap by a druid or a droid, it’s complicating,
Or a human being, with his nature contrasting…
One who isn’t always fiddling or lying?
But to find an honest MP may be disillusioning,
One fit enough to do Prime Ministering…
Especially one that is morality-emitting,
One who is history-free of lying & fornicating…
An honest MP? It’s just an impossibility!
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04:40hrs: I stirred back into ersatz life. I waited for Twitching Neck Nigel to ease off. Nigel was accompanied by a few of Eric’s electric ankle shocks, which were shooting up my right leg. I think that Lymphorrhea Leslie is beginning to swell enough to burst again. But come the late afternoon, Anne Gyna became the worst ailment, even than the seizures, pure pain, and I was gasping with it as I walked back from Sherwood after shopping in the rain, but I mustn’t complain, and going to the dentist and cake shop. Not for me!

I used the small picker-upperer to get some cream on the ankle. Then, I detached the nocturnal pouch from the day Catheter bag. I realised I had time to go before getting dressed to go to the dentist, and I sorted the waste bags out as the first job.
I decided to have just one mug of Co-op 99 tea and cut the water drinking out. I hope the catheter bag does not overfill while I’m in Sherwood. Before concentrating on what I need to do and take with me, I have a bus pass, keys, cash, card, and Bisoporol Fumerate in case Anne Gyna kicks off. Would you believe that I forgot to put some in my pocket? What a twit!
I took a couple of shots from the kitchenette window of view on offer to the right and left.
These didn’t come out too badly. The few snaps I took while out in the rain, legging it back up Winchester Street Hill, were terrible efforts.

I got the things needed in the walker and my pockets. (Well, as I said, I did forget to take the Beta-Blockers!

I put my feet in a bowl with an antiseptic disinfectant and soaked them while brushing my teeth and then shaving. I had so many cuts shaving this morning that counting them was hard. Haha! 7+ is my guesstimate! I spent much time stopping the little bleeders’ flow, but the Brut aftershave eventually won.

I got some more Germolene cream on Lymphorrhea, Leslie. Then dropped the tube… hitting myself on the head on the sink. I precisely targeted yesterday’s injury as I bent down to retrieve it! Looking at this selfie, I seemed to have acquired more bruises than I thought. Of course, they could have been from last night’s Whoopsiedangeplop?

The innards rumbled and grumbled as I left the wet room, and I got down on the WC post-haste! Had I not been naked and I’d had to remove a dressing gown and nightshirt, I’m sure I would never have got down in time! This would have been another major embarrassing incident to clean up!

I got the medicationings done in a short time. My concentration was elsewhere, you see. I wanted to get at least a little done on the blog. I adjusted the old-fashioned clock calendar. I made another brew of 99 tea. Somehow, I failed to drink the first one earlier on.

Arrived on the first call. I had just gone into a Seizure Mode. Events are a little vague. I feel she helped me with the bus timetable. I can’t understand why I have this Arithmaphobia about numbers, time, etc. Dementia Doreen, I assume, getting worse and spreading her control.

I pressed on with the blog and got Mondays posted. Not a good one, but at least I got it out.
Returned to do the Domestic. I was fully with it this time. She helped me get the diabetic socks on, explained the buses, and checked on my appointment with the dentist. She also cleaned for me. Bless her.

DENTIST SHERWOOD VISIT: I still can’t realise I left the Beta-blockers behind. But I think I’d got everything else I needed. I intended to walk down the hill and get the bus back up. But it turned out the opposite. As I was going out, Carer Sam arrived, and she walked me to the Winwood Court lobby. As I approached the bus stop and walked past it, I noticed a bus was due in two minutes. So, I caught it. Made a mess of getting myself sat down as Cartilage Chloe gave way on me. Two passengers helped me get off the bus four stops later in Sherwood. There are some kind folks. I appreciated that cause I was having a seizure at the same time that I got off the bus. My thanks go to them!

As I crossed the road to visit the Heron Store for the first time, the rain started splattering down. I remembered the pork knuckle, Pork Pie with egg, and potato waffles they used to sell in the Bulwell store, and my taste buds were already tingling as I went in and made my way to the fresh food fridges.
They had none of my favourite foods on the shelves they used to stock long ago. Sob!
However, looking at the receipt when I got home, I’d spent £16 with them. Cellotape, treats for the Carers and nurses, Easter eggs, and some Schweppes Tonic Water with watermelon. I did not realise what I was spending at the time due to a three-minute seizure at the checkout. I felt it coming, coped with it, then realised I was not with it.

Up the hill to the Dentist. A complete stranger saw me struggling to get the walker shopping bag up the 4 steps outside the front door of the surgery. Bless her. ♥
I’d never have made it without her tremendous help.
I got into the reception, only to find that I had got the wrong time for the appointment! I was 1½hrs early! The lady looked at me with a sideways glance. I responded by saying not to worry, that I had my crossword book and pen with me, and I apologised for getting the timing wrong.
I moved into the waiting area. And started on the crossword book. Amazingly, I got a few answers, too!
The receptionist told me they had rearranged the dentists, and I could go to the surgery in a minute to be seen by another dentist. A minute later, she indicated that I could go in now.
The Dentist had an investigation into the state of my teeth. Summing up, he said you will need significant surgery; are your teeth too painful. I waffled on about the pain spray I used almost daily, and he said the same as the other dentist said on the last four visits; We’ll see how you go; they should be alright until then, don’t you think? OK, I said.
Went to pay the receptionist. £30. Who helped me & my shopping down the 4 steps at the front door.

The rain was heavier now, but that did not deter me from going to the cake shop to buy some cream cake treats for the staff.
Unbelievably, as the lady asked which cakes I wanted, I delved into another seizure. Asked her to pick them for me. Paid with my bank card, and as I went out, I read the receipt, £8.90.
I’ve spent a bit today.

I decided to take a different route back up to the flats. Instead of going down Mansfield Road and up Winchester Street Hill back to the apartments, I went down Hallem Road and around Winchester Hill. En route, the rain had disturbed all the mud from the many trees being cut down. They were pushing their roots up and cracking the pavement tarmac.
I felt sorry for this one on the left. I can see beauty in trees, and I had a little natter to this one as I passed it.
Don’t laugh! Hehe!
As I got onto Winchester Hill and turned left, up towards the flats, I took this snap on the right.
And the heavens opened up! The rain flooded down, and I tried to protect the things in the bag from getting soaked. But, worse…
Suddenly, it got the worst she’d been, pain-wise, for years. But I was not surprised in the least. The struggle up the hill had annoyed her. I was stopping to get even wetter every few minutes and let the stabbing pains from ease off.
Half an hour later, I’d reached the level of the flats. Anne Gyna eased off for a few minutes when I hobbled along on the straight, even, flat Chestnut Walk.
I felt so much better when I got into the Winwood Court complex. I dropped the cakes off, and they gave me the list of my banking details; bless them both.

I felt weary but contented at having made the little trip without any real . And feeling good. I got up to the apartment and dried myself off. Emptied the catheter pouch, got the kettle on, and put the purchases away.
Ah, I forgot I’d bought some beer-battered chips & onion rings. I might have them for tonight’s meal. If I ever get this blog started, that is. I opened the watermelon soda bottle and got on with updating this blog.

Carer Chris arrived. His new daughter, whose name he gave me, is in fine shape. I forgot her name, and I asked him twice.

It’s late now, so I’ll get summat made to eat. Carer Chris will be calling again soon.

Bad News. My own fault.

I’ll report it tomorrow.

If I can.

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TTFNski!
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Inchy: Sunday 9th February 2025

10/02/202510/02/2025 / Inchie / 13 Comments

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04:55hrs: After an often-broken sleep caused by dear , I still got about 5 hours of sleep in bits, so that wasn’t too bad; I woke most unenthusiastically. I pondered over things as I sat there on the £300, second-hand, c1968, charity shop-bought, eyesorely-horrendously grungy coloured, Harold Haemorrhoid-testing, easily-falloutable from, unfit-for-use, not working, recliner, not fully aware of things, trying to figure out why I felt like this. I put it down to my having woken up with an activating seizure. My confusion started to clear after a few minutes. But I still felt a little off-kilter, mentally. Voids in my memory, despite believing I had been dreaming, there were no indications of what of. Annoying that, innit?
I eventually, gingerly rose from the £300 second-hand, most uncomfortable, decrepit, Haemorrhoid Harold-testing, creaking, sleep-deterring, nauseatingly beige-coloured, not-working recliner and caught my balance. I took off the Nocturnal Catheter pouch to free myself to start the short mini-exercises… Well, that was the plan.

Within seconds of starting the stretching, I was on the floor, with a decent bruise on the forehead gained on my way down to the carpet. I still have no idea where or what I hit my head against. It all seemed to occur so quickly.
Getting back up was as easy as it could have been, with me landing next to the recliner. Obviously, it was painful clawing my massive, flabby body back up into the recliner. Sensing that this was much more painful than usual, I considered pressing the Help Line Alarm. As my head cleared again, there was no blood at all coming from the wound, just hardly seeable scratch and bruise. I went into my Sherlockian Mode and realised why it hurt me so much, and I found the cause of the original tumble! Yes!

Had given way. I feel sure! After a few moments. The head bump was painless and only was hurting… until a minute later, when Took over as the ‘Head Ailment’. Confusion Konrad remained. And I’m not sure all this is in order of happening now.
I forgot all about doing the balance routine after that.

I’m not sure why, but I thought a mug of tea would be a good idea or of any benefit. But I made one and adjusted the old-fashioned clock-calendar.
I nipped to photograph the morning view from the kitchenette window. Misty and cold out there again. This snap came out all right. But I thought when taking it I saw a planet, albeit a tiny one, on the top left. No signs of it?

Carer Selina arrived. She noticed the bruise on my head. I made her laugh, telling her how it happened. Haha!

Back to my blogging. In ten minutes, I had five short visits . Then, nothing for an hour or so.
And back she came, I had to give up, for fear of making so many mistakes that I didn’t realise then and losing hours of precious time to correct them. Humph!

I got pm Word to write the day’s Ode.

Came back on again.
I had to give up again. I will sit down and wait it out, hoping it will not be another long one. They seem to tire me out.

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Shasha is one of Tim Price’s
Colony of Cats. Bootiful!
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Made a meal and settled the football game.
There were two FA Cup matches to watch, and I did not move out of the recliner for hours and hours.
I took this in a break between games.
The first one was Plymouth Argyle beating Liverpool!

Made the nosh and settled down to see the second match.
Aston Villa v Tottenham Hotspurs.

Then I realised that Quatermass & The Pit film was showing on the same channel after the footy.
1967 FILM NOIR
They don’t make them like this anymore!.
From 1953 to 1967, They made three Quatermass treats.
The first one was made for a TV series. But, 40% of the original tapes have since been lost by the BBC. There are DVDs, but they have a lot of missing action. But I loved them them all.
The TV one was poorly scripted, badly acted, and as for ‘Rocket Ship’ landing in the house’s bedroom, without destroying it… well, it was part of the fun and mystery. This was given the title, The Quatermass Experiment. The film concerns three astronauts launched into space aboard a single-stage-to-orbit rocket designed by Professor Quatermass. A TV series.
Then (1953) QUATERMASS II film. Strange metallic meteorites rain down over Winnerden Flats, an eerie new town near a strongly guarded chemical plant. Professor Quatermass discovers that contact with the meteorites causes an unusual infection. He is also astonished that the chemical plant is modelled after his design for a moonbase, where life can thrive in an artificial atmosphere. Investigations uncover a conspiracy that extends from the Government level to the zombie-like workers who will stop at nothing to protect the plant. Quatermass deduces that aliens from one of the moons of Saturn travel to Earth in the meteorites, possess human minds, and share knowledge through a collective consciousness. I loved it! Especially with Sid James getting killed in the pub on Winnerton Flats.
Ah, Memories!

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The last photo was taken as I looked around to ensure I had not left anything on that I shouldn’t have. All looks good!

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I’m off to bed now!
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I got about four hours’ worth of Kip! Great!

Inchy: Thursday 6th February 2025

07/02/2025 / Inchie / 6 Comments

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Grim: Ayeup, Inchy!
Inchy: Gawd, yer you surprised me!
Grim: That’s what I like about you, Inchy!
Inchy: Wot?
Grim: Yer always greet me affably,
Inchy: Well, you are an essential part of my family!
Grim: What family is that then? There’s none that I can see?
Inchy: I mean my ailments family, like Peripheral Neuropathy,
my catheter, Haemorrhoids, Glaucoma Gladys and FND,
Dodgy ticker, each Whoopsiedangleploppery, primarily,
Grim: Can yer explain all that to me?
Inchy: It’d be my pleasure to do so certainly!
Grim: Go on then, I ain’t got all day!
Inchy: Well, I was found unsuitable for adoptability,
At making friends, I lost the ability…
Being flat-bound, & many a disability,
Dementia, illusions, delusions affected me,
Yet I get help & chinwags from Jenny…
Deana, Lisa, the nurses, Warden Julie…
So, despite everything, I feel lucky,
I don’t deserve it; to me, life is a mystery…
Grim: Your waffling is an abnormal absurdity!
When I was a human, it scared the hell out of me!
Inchy: Well, that’s it, Grim; you can still recognise ambiguosity, antipathy, and physical and mental agony!
Grim: I’ve forgotten why I came now, sadly…
Inchy: There’s no need for you to feel too badly…
Grim: I find no fear in you for me, challengingly,
Inchy: Yes, I suppose it must be a rarity?
Next month, I am going to the hospital for surgery,
Cephalometry, specifically craniometry,
I go willingly and happily…
Grim: Why happily & willingly?
Inchy: My mind is already blanked and contemplatively ready,
Grim: Have you not considered destructiveness, desperateness, despicableness, or feel any despiteousness?
Inchy: No, no, no, my life has been deleterious,
How have I lasted so long amidst life’s disputatiousness?
Grim: Yes, yes, go on, I’m listening,
Inchy: Well, I find life lonely, alienating…
Grim: Tell me why, without any hesitating!
Inchy: My Porcelain Throne visits are constantly alternating,
one event watery, the next constipating…
Grim: If that’s your excuse, then abluting…
Inchy: ‘Excuse me’, I’m still talking!
Cartilages Chloe then Carol collapsing,
The stove blew up, so; no cooking,
The intercom broke, so there was no communication…
Visitors can get no access, can’t be allowed in,
Down to the ground floor foyer, where it’s freezing,
Someone sat on the wall heater, heater detaching!
When a nurse, surgical or food delivery is coming…
Spending up to 4-hours, sat down there waiting,
While up in the flat, the telephone might be ringing,
Someone may also be texting or emailing…
Trying to tell me an appointment day is changing!
The Catheter bag slowly filling…
Back to the flat for emptying,
Usually when the delivery will be arriving!
Unaware, I go back to the foyer, hurrying,
And Little Inchies Fungal Lesion starts bleeding!
Back up again to the flat for lesion medicating,
Then my grip on things starts deteriorating,
Next, Sandra’s Seizures are starting,
Dementia & PN, I start chastising,
The computer requires defragging,
But how to, I’m not remembering,
Tasks at hand need detailing, after detangling,
The flat’s hallway heater is just not heating…
My mind turns to food and eating,
The bread is wet from the bottles bursting,
Soaked with a shandy flavouring,
Cartilage Chloe gave way without warning,
Lading on my knee, the catheter pouch bursting!
And you wonder why I don’t mind dying?
Grim: You should put that in your blog. It just might get you some help and sympathising. Haha!
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04:40hrs: I woke up coughing. But, after an amazingly long sleep of close to six hours! I removed the worryingly dark-coloured nocturnal catheter pouch attached to the day bag. I think it is a 7 on the NHS scale.

I emptied the laundry bag that Carer Promise brought back for me last night. The things were hung, and some were put on the towel warmer to dry off a little longer. All four socks had been returned this time.

I ventured into the kitchenette to take some morning shots of the dark sky on view. The lower first one came out reasonably well for once.
The second, higher in the sky, should have shown three tiny planets. Which were obviously there to my eyes but didn’t make it onto the photo. Tsk!

I made a brew of Co-op 99 tea, took it to the computer and reset my ultra-modern c1970 clock/calendar. An oddly coloured hue to this one?

I got the computer on, and within a few minutes or so, had started off. Really, short ones, but far too many for me to concentrate on the job at hand.

So, this time, I made another mug of tea, Glengettie, and searched the sky for the planets still showing.

I started on today’s silly ode. And seemed to be grasping things better. So I returned to WordPressing, to copy my ode into it. No good. As soon as I started making mistakes, error-making began again. I reread the ode in case I’d made an earlier blunder. And had I? I had to spend an hour or more just correcting the mistakes in the Ode! Some whoppers were in it. One word I’d put in was ‘cragmatical’. Dramatical or pragmatical didn’t fit in with the content, so I changed several lines, some of which had lost their rhyme and others that didn’t come over as intended. Then, when I was putting some photos on from the camera, along came possibly the most prolonged seizure I’ve ever had. Totally undetectable, too; that was rare. I estimated it to have been for about half an hour. During which, when I came back to reality, I found even more errors I’d made with the photographs. There were so many, and I have no idea how I messed them up so much. I’d loaded the wrong pictures, so they were all out of sync and order.
I had to start all over from scratch.

Carer Richard made the first call.
The lad still struggles with his poor legs and uses a double walker. I would not ask him to put on my diabetic socks for me. I’m having a full scrub-up shave and shower later this afternoon, so I’d struggle to get the socks off anyway.

I got back onto blogging (and am struggling with it!).

Carer Sam did the midday call. I updated her on the Intercom failure and the JS food delivery farce.

I added some food and ready meals to next week’s Iceland order. I found some mini-fishcakes on the list this time. Only eight are in a pack, but only £1 a pack. I do like these. I hope they are not sort-listed, out-of-stock or substituted.

I did a bit more on this blog and decided to concentrate on getting the done.
I should be back in two hours. I’ll see how long it takes. It is now 13:35 hrs. TTFN.

Oh, some mail had arrived.
The Farmfoods leaflet offers some fantastic prices. However, the nearest one to me is in Carlton, which is a four-hour bus journey back and forth.

New dosages have arrived for Deep Vein Thrombosis, INR, Warfarin, and one I am about to open. Hang one, please. Well,

An increase in my pension! This £2 a month rise would have been more welcome if Starmer had not allowed my rent to go up, electricity costs to almost double, and stolen the £500 Cold Weather allowance from me.
At the bottom, I found this:
‘Less Contracted-Out Deduction of £29.09’!
I think I’m going to get even less than I thought!

I hope I never get in a position where I could help Starmer on his way to Valhalla; I couldn’t resist it!

I went to get the meal cooked. I had to take this unnatural shot of the misty sun setting, with creams/beiges, orange, browns, yellows and blacks on show?

Sister Jane called while I was making the fodder. She was in her laundry room, laundering. We had a natter, and I got told off for a few things. I’d missed that. Haha! She told me off the football cup matches being available on ITV. Tonight was the Liverpool v Spurs game. I thanked her and decided to watch the match later. Huh!

MEAL OF THE WEEK UP TO NOW!
What an enormous feast! Natural pickled beetroot, pickled mushrooms, Sopoka bacon, a pickled egg, red onions, fresh garden peas and some Parmentier Potatoes with herbs & garlic butter. After taking this photo, I added some Dutch tomatoes. Got down on the c1966, £300 Oxfam charity shop-bought, wincingly grotty, beige-coloured, crumb-covered from my nocturnal nibblings, itch-making, uncomfortable, positively unhealthy, and dangerous, no longer operational, virus-breeding, easy-to-fall-out-of, Catheter-tube-trapping recliner. The tray under my chin so as not to spill or drop morsels on my vast belly. The result in the morning of this wonderful feast was the return with a vengeance of , like never before! Tsk!
Turned on the TV, and the match was starting. This was going to be a super-fun meal… But, no!
Carer Promise arrived as the match started. Not that anything stopped me from scoffing away while he was here. Hehe!

Inevitably, after the commercial break, I nodded off, waking up as the programme finished. I didn’t even know what the score was! However, notwithstanding, this meant that overnight, considering the early morning shooting awake and struggling to get back to sleep, I reckon I had six hours in the land of Nod! Great! I certainly didn’t want to get up when I woke up again. I was most reluctant and tried to get back to sleep! But, the need of the won the battle.

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Welwn ni chi nes ymlaen!
See You Later – in Welsh!
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Inchy: Monday 3rd February 2025

04/02/2025 / Inchie / 12 Comments

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Humankind, the epitome of entanglement,
Each human individually so different,
Some are passive, some violent, some truculent…
Oligarchs, politicians, proletariats, the ignorant,
Some of us struggling to pay for heating & rent!
: : : : :
The depressed, who are glad life is impermanent,
The poor, without clean water, living in a tent,
The guilty: defiant, obdurate, unrepentant,
The lying greedy shower in Parliament,
Those mentally challenged & obmutescent!
: : : : :
The law-abiders, who are so obedient,
Who’ve mostly had enough, who go acquiescent…
No one listens to their problems, they grow conticent,
The rich, addicted, drugged and crapulent…
The ‘Oh, so lonely’, and impuissant!
: : : : :
The ashamed, who brandish a mock insouciance,
The fearful, that live in a state of presentiment…
Stewing inside with injustice & resentment,
Outwardly displaying mock-contentment,
Their hopes & desires are only ruminant!
: : : : :
The aged, growing more gloomy and depressant,
They forget things, making them more inconscient,
Those without catheters may become incontinent,
Their life’s meaning turns intervenient,
Their faith is long lost, & physical pains are recrudescent!
: : : : :
The Grim Reapers call will not be inconvenient!
Dementia, dodgy bladder, Cognitive Impairment,
Using the Porcelain Throne can be sanguinolent,
I can no longer afford to get myself temulent,
Starmer did me in, stealing my winter fuel payment!
: : : : :
I don’t often find myself pitifully verklempt…
What chance of my body and brain’s renascence?
I often go off track, lose the plot and scent…
Forget what I’m doing, hoped for, done, or my intent…
For years, my body has been going putrescent,
Mentally, I suffer daily pesterment,
I’ll leave this Ode as my testament!
: : : : :
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I didn’t wake up this morning; it was another unfortunate night of no sleep. Well, I did get one hour in! 04:00hrs: I gave up the dream of any sleep and rest, removed the Nocturnal Catheter pouch, and decided to get my ablutions sorted out. Which had a few interesting aspects to it. Don’t they all, you ask? Hehe!
I finished the ablutions early, just in case I fell asleep later. Why I should think that baffled me after three nights and four hours of sleep. It is probably why I feared nodding off—as if I could!

I amassed all that was needed and got them in the wet room. The main thing I noticed was no calls to the Porcelain Throne. I couldn’t sleep or evacuate. Then , kicked off as I got my feet into the bowl to stand in and soak them.
I’d hung a long shirt on the shower rail when I entered, and as I’d wet the neck and face in preparation for the foam to be applied, the shirt slipped off the hanger and dropped over my head! For a second, I thought, ‘Hello, I’m dead’! Not that it bothered me. But I did see the funny side of it. Haha!
When I’d sorted myself out and rehung the shirt, I realised I’d left the hot tap running, and the water had gone lukewarm! So, I had no choice… well, I did. I could leave the ablutions and return later, or do what I did and get the kettle on for the shaving. That was a little risky, carrying hot water in one hand, the walking stick in the other, and offering a prayer that neither Cartilage decides to collapse on me. Peripheral Neuropathy Pete didn’t give me a leg dance, and Dizzy Dennis didn’t visit. Yet I coped surprisingly well with the ailments (apart from ) all being kind to me. Yes!
After what seemed an age, I finally got on with the shaving, and… I did not spill any water on myself. !
I also carried out this task without a single cut or knick!

The medicationalisation of the tender areas did not go well. The groin area had been bleeding and dried on the few hairs left there. I had to clean things with a little more gusto to remove it. (I imagine you know what’s coming next). After getting the Barrier cream on and feeling out how big and sore the Spanish onion-sized right testicle was, I moved the top holding strap, sadly pulling at the Catheter tube overmuch, and the bleeding started afresh! I did not see any humour in this! I antisepticised and cleaned the left area again. While doing this, I thought there seemed to be a large amount of little spots of blood on the tissues, and it dawned on me that Little Inchies Fungal Lesion was now bleeding as well! I got things sorted. Then the eyes, ears, belly and knees were medicated and back to the computer. Took a swig of cough medicine, an extra tablet, and a Codeine.

I took a morning snap of the kitchenette view. I wasn’t such a green colour this morning out there. A brown tinge rather than a blue one, too!

After a long while of trying to get CorelDraw to stop freezing on me, I needed to go back to the kitchen and wet room to check that I’d not left any lights, heaters, or taps running. All appeared okay. Interestingly, when I entered the wet room, the hangar that I knew I’d hung back up on the shower curtain rail after getting the shirt & dressing gown on was back on the floor. Is this part of the Mysteries of Woodthorpe Court, with the hobgoblins, spectres, gnomai, phantasms, ghosts, the grotesque succubae, extraterrestrials, ectoplasms, spirits, or the Fata Morganas, or whatever, that have been sent to taunt, irritate and terminate my already limited saneness of mind, which is losing its marbles? Hehehe!

I was heavily into doing the day’s ode, and Carer Richard arrived. I asked how he was. He looked well-tired but said little conversation-wise. He didn’t even tell me off about anything this morning. So, I knew he was not in a good place—bless him! He did let me make him a mug of strong tea, though. This morning, he fitted both leg brackets and the long crutch.

I worked on yesterday’s blog and am getting it posted early today. Whatever was bugging CorelDraw earlier stopped for a couple of hours. Ten minutes ago, it was back again. Grrr!

After Carer Chloe called, I remembered I’d forgotten to ask her to replace the day catheter. I blame Doreen Dementia!

I’m going to get something to eat now.
No, I’m not; I’ll wait until the Carer Comes and ask him/her to fit the Catheter Day Bag, which should have been done last Friday. Carer Promise came later, fitted it for me, and made a good job of it. Finally, the pain and pulling of having a new top strap eased the pain. Carer Promise took a photo of myself to use in a later blog post. Thanks, Promise.

Now, I’ll try to get a meal made.

While the chips were cooking, the cheesey-topped cobs were sliced, no-butter buttered. Smoked cheese slices were added. And readied for chips to be added.
Pickled onions, chips, and a pot of lemon yoghourt were put on the tray. I wiped the oven tray and settled to watch ‘Heartbeat’ on the TV while eating this tasty meal!

Partway through, Carer Promise arrived. He removed my diabetic socks. The lad adjusted the day cather contraption and added the nocturnal bag.

I had a feeling that tonight, I would get some sleep in. Of course, I wasn’t sure; when was I ever certain of anything?

Well, it took a while, but Sweet Morpheus did arrive. A few jumping awake episodes, but I reckon I got over 6-hours of sleep in. Yes! Yahoo!

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Here’s Mud in your Eye!
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Inchy: Saturday 1st February 2025

02/02/2025 / Inchie / 14 Comments

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My situation could be described as delicate,
So many concerns it’s hard to navigate…
Worsened by not being numerate,
Although I’m not yet nonliterate,
I talk to myself, and how do I reciprocate?
My cerebrum needs to reorchestrate,
If Doreen Dementia would only vacate,
Maybe then, I’d no longer verbigerate?
The norovirus is making me ululate,
I still cannot manually voluntarily urinate!
My confidence & abilities absquatulate,
Hopes, plans & desires are all abirritate,
Needs that vary every hour assimilate…
Single thoughts, problems, will bifurcate,
It’s my personal choices that I berate,
I’m getting myself into the right state…
At 10 o‘clock, I could self-strangulate,
Complete shame, disgust, and self-hate,
Depressions by the hundredweight,
11 o’clock, I’m impossible to humiliate!
My worries, & fears, I did incarcerate,
The Enoxaparin, which I did inoculate,
Which left me with some stomach-ache,
But I was worry-free to compensate…
Others, worse off, I was compassionate,
Twelve noon, my joy did regenerate,
Up & down, it’s hard to hariolate…
Then flow-back came from my prostate,
This time, I reacted not as an ingrate…
Lots of folks have more worries on their plate,
The ailment with which I have to cohabitate,
Leaves me confused, incoherent & inchoate,
These good moments may well be inquorate…
But they are so precious, mate…
My situation, as of now, is not so delicate!
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Great Results This Week!
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After hours of complete failure to sleep, I gave up and got up at 04:00hrs. I kept changing from the bed to the c1966, £300 charity shop bought second-hand, wincingly grotty, beige coloured, not working, crumb-covered from the nocturnal nibblings, itch-making, uncomfortable, virus-breeding, easy-to-fall-out-of, recliner, and back again.

There was not a lot in the nocturnal catheter pouch. But it was a beautiful colour even if it was too dark on the NHS colour scale (It was a 7). Note that this indoors-set shot hid the blotch very well on the black bit!

I got the waste bag to the doorway, then went to take some morning snaps from the kitchenette window. It felt bitter cold as I opened the window. Then, I had to change my plans again. The innards indicated it would be wise to visit the Porcelain Throne. So, I did!

Yet again, it was a close call that I got to the and seated in time!
The evacuation couldn’t have taken 30 seconds at most – but the follow-up motions, which were all liquid, took much longer to escape. I dared not move until I was as sure as I could be that they had finally finished coming. The cleaning up of my muscular, firm, lithe little rear end took me ages. Then, the Porcelain cleaning and deodorising had to be done.
The medicalisationings had some moments of humour. Is that the correct word to use?
1: Taking off the PPs, as I tore down the seam, I caught the top catheter gripper with my broken fingernail; this caused me to tug at the tube stuck down the poor and now painful . Naturally, the blood flowed out all down my leg and foot and onto the wetroom carpet and floor. Naturally, the pain didn’t bother a man of my youthful calibre; I did not swear, spit, or howl out. Although the cleaning up and all the bending kicked off , it really annoyed .
Of course, I just laughed it off!

Anne Gyna’s pains were not on at this stage, which was very welcome. After about an hour of cleaning up the mess, I continued with the medicationalisationings. Harold’s haemorrhoids were Germaloided. The colossal belly folds, underarms, and back fat were barrier-creamed. Then I did the eye drops and spraying.

2: I got the olive oil dropper to do the earholes next. I assume I had not cleaned the barrier cream off my hands properly; The bottle shot out of my hands, hit the wall, bounced back to fall on my , with the oils spread all over me, then the floor I’d just cleaned! I saw the funny side, and I did laugh!

3: Now joined in the grief & agony-giving party of ailments. I cleaned up the blood again.
4: With more bending and pulling, it opened up again. Humph! I take these , and in my stride, you know.

Hours after my first attempt, I got snaps of the morning view.
A sort of brownie-green hue to go with the 07:50hrs photographs taken?
I tried a closer-in shot of Cavendish Vale. That’s the road with the suspiciously first snow-melting roof tiles on the left of this picture. Hehe!

Carer Precious made the 08:25 and 11:25 hrs calls of the day. He tried to sort a camera out for me, but it beat him. It was nice of him to try to get it to work for me, anyway.

I got on with updating the blog. Soon got it posted. Shame about all the time lost in the wet room farcicalness, else I might have caught up with it. Har-Har!

Carer Joanne called to collect the hand washing for me. She’d been off a long time with the Nocovirus Flu. She’s not back to her normal self yet, and it showed, bless her. ♥

I was annoyed with CorelDraw again, and the computer went so slow that I feared the worst! However, after CCleaning it, it got a smidge better—but not on CorelDraw.

I got the ode done and dusted for tomorrow – yes! In front, at last, I thought. Until I realised that I had not completed all of the templates. Then I recalled having a series of frequent but short bursts of the other day and must have thought I’d done them. So, back to catching up again.

I took a snap through the kitchenette window. The top right is a gloomy-looking view, complete with ‘the ‘Persistent Blotch’ showing. It’s easier to hide when taking night shots cause the blotch blends in the darkness and is less conspicuous.

The waste bags had not been taken to the rubbish chute yet. So, I took them to the rubbish chute. On my way back after depositing the bags down the tube, it gave way. No tumble or fall, though, just pain. Hehe! I smiled at it and whistled as I hobbled back to the flat.

Around 16:00hrs, the Co-op food delivery arrived. I’d stocked up with the cheesy bread rolls. I’m rather partial to these. I also got some ready-made beef and caramelised onion sandwiches. It was not cheap, but I was feeling idle and tired and had no sleep lately. I added some cooked smoked bacon, chicken thighs, German smoked cheese, & sliced tomato to the sarnie and overcooked battered onion rings. Well, I like them browned a little. Salted the sliced tomatoes. Nice! Complete with semi-hidden blotch! A different Carer did the last two calls.

I’m getting miffed about not getting any sleep in. I watched the football highlights, then nipped through the channels to find something to watch. I moved from the bed back to the aged, grotty-looking c1966 made, charity-shop-bought, horribly beige-coloured, £300, Harold’s Haemorrhoid-testing, non-operational, acne-giving, virus-breeding, rickety, easy-to-fall-out-of recliner. But it made no difference to the sleep deprivation until I turned off the TV at 03:00hrs. Sometime then, I nodded off! Yes! Waking up coughing and sneezing at 04:00hrs!

I gave up and got up!

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CHEERY-BYE!
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Inchy: Friday 24th January 2025

25/01/2025 / Inchie / 8 Comments

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Talking to Doreen Dementia communicably,
It has never been or will be very easy.
Cognitive Impairment Iris is another problem for me,
Avoiding things depreciatory or derogatory…
They both warp my limited etymology,
It annoys them when I get stuttery…
Why? When I’m communicating mentally,
I appreciate that I stutter verbally,
Especially when I talk aguishly nervously…
I’ve disabilities in physical & mental functionality,
This is just a barely-bearable reality,
A by-product of Peripheral Neuropathy,
And having the stroke, regretfully,
The brain moves between agony, self-hatred & complacency,
It seems my neurotransmitters have lost choreography.
When the Neurosurgeon hacks in cerebrumly…
In my brain, what will he see? An electric melee?
My surviving nerve ends, as confused as me?
Or Doreen & Rita, having a cup of tea, bizarrerie,
Deciding how they can attack me… bloodcurdlingly,
Can he drag them out using keyhole surgery?
Maybe they got in when I had my appendectomy?
They’re illegal immigrants; they didn’t ask Inchy!
Annoyingly, my pre-op emotion is one of apathy…
They get pleasure from Mind-Mangling, you see…
But how did they get at me? Serendipity?
I have to suffer their Satanophany, frustratingly,
If this op fails, will I be brokenhearted? Hardly!
I’ll show no displeasure or recalcitrancy,
I’ll be in cloud-cuckoo-land, & thankfully…
To the surgeons, nurses, & staff at the QMC,
And go back to my life’s mental hurly-burly,
Where my own thoughts lack authenticity,
My memory is beyond any help or assistance,
Self-worth and good luck show imperceptibility,
To my struggle with mental mobility,
My ailments gift of physical disability,
Glaucoma Gladys makes my vision foggy,
Shaking Shaun keeps me feeling groggy,
Anne Gyna, currently the epitome of agony,
Catheter leaks, leaving my leg & slippers soggy!
The morning ritual of cleaning things that are bloody,
Little Inchies Fungal Lesion; he’s also sticky,
Eye drops & sprays, lip balm, cream the piles, that’s dodgy!
Yes, back to the flat of milk and honey,
Computer, mobile, and TV troubles, not funny…
Where I’m perceived unsympathetically,
The mini seizures, Leg dances, Twitching-neck-Ali,
Where I’m assured of being ignored & querimony,
And of Fauxpas & Whoopsiedangleploppery!
And await my Glaucoma op, & retinopathy…
And the everyday hassle from Arthur Itis, Not Askey!
The terrible twins, Catheter right, Carol, left, Chloe,
When they go, at best, you’ll fall on one knee…
Which always sets off a reaction from the FND…
Arthur Itis, Cartilages Carol and/or Chloe,
Sometimes, the Catheter pouch will blow!
The tube in Little Inchie yanks; you will never know…
The pain entailed cleaning & medicating with Opzeluro,
My right testicle swells to the size of a baking potato!
Still, I don’t like to complain, though!
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I had a lot of bother in the morning trying to get this blog started. I’m starting to get all het-up now.

I got 3 hours kip in, though. Ye-Haaa!

It’s now Saturday, and it’s 19:00hrs! So this will be short.
Otherwise, Saturdays will never get started. Arghh!
Sorry about this. Not coping well.

The new ailment that I thought was the Cartilages… now I don’t think it was. Several times when the knees gave way today, both went together. Terrible sensations. From the ankles, knees and up to the thigh. Everything wobbled, and the instant weakness and balance loss all but had me over a few times. Actually, it did have me over once. But I crumpled conveniently onto the second-hand, c1968, eyesorely-horrendously grungy beige-coloured, £300, charity shop bought, crumb-retaining, microorganism-microbe producing, gungy, moth-eaten, beige-coloured, non-working, bacillus encouraging, incommodious, Haemorrhoid Harold testing, c1968 recliner.

The nocturnal Catheter Pouch was classed as a No. 8 on the NHS Richter Scale Card. Hehe!

Carer Sherida called. She kindly removed the socks that were not done earlier and suggested I ask the next carer to put the fresh ones on. She checked to ensure that they were diabetic ones for me. This way, I could get a proper shower and medicalisationing session early.

I struggled to finish the show and was dubious about my weak legs. Constipation: Conrad was still in control of the Porcelain Throne duties. There was a smidgeon of blood, but it was hardly worth mentioning. The shaving: I thought I had done a good bloodless job. I got under the shower and used the shower chair for the shower session, which was well over an hour. Then, I ensured all the needed treatment areas of my magnificent, muscular, youthful body were well dried, drying the Catheter bag and tubing simultaneously.

Then, as I was getting on the dressing gown, I felt all the hairs I’d missed on my neck hole when shaving. I was a midge annoyed as I got the tackle out and gave the neck a go over again. The bleeding took me ages of time and half a bottle of Brut aftershave to stem the flow. Humph!

Carer Sherida took the laundry bag down for me. Pound to a penny, the bag gets stolen, or the clothes disappear again.

Carer Sam did the midday spot.

Carer Precious Called. I mentioned the low quantity of the Anne Gyna medications, and they told me they had been delivered.

I feel I’m going to go through pain like never before after the tablets run out on Monday.

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TTFNski!
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Inchy: Wednesday 22nd January 2025

23/01/2025 / Inchie / 4 Comments

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I could never do a headstand,
I’ve never had a house husband,
I did once get stuck in the heathlands,
Can’t get out now, I’m somewhat housebound,
I found a hairband on my hatstand?

I was confused, not worried,
I’d taken some tablets that were Cabbinoid,
Hehehe! My Carer was jealous and annoyed,
No sleep for two days, and I was bed rid?
More alarms, something smelt putrid & fetid…

The computer was acting like an invalid,
So many problems I was fumid,
I’m giving up now; it makes me sick.
There must be someone who can help me a bit…
I’ve got no teeth left to grit,

On my second night without sleep or rest,
Couldn’t sort the computer, tried my absolutist,
Anne Gyna was at her painfullest…
Phlegm from the nose and stuck in the chest,
There are little medications left in the medical chest!
Angina tablets for three days at best…
Beta-blockers; the chest is dereft!
Carer Richard is off ill, none ordered from the chemist,
I’ll ask the morning Carer if he or she can assist,
There was a moment. Mayhap the days blessedest…
I dropped the catheter bag and tripped over it…
Fell forwards headfirst down into the WC abyss!
A smug mode, I just had to utilise…
Confused and tired, but I did realise…
I stopped myself from hitting my head and eyes.

The smugness didn’t last for long after the accidents…
The Trotky Terence evacuation was fluid and icterious,
My next problem was a smidge more serious…
I hit the doorframe with Shaking Shoulder Shirley.
And Anne booming Gyna turned on the pain, serious!
To the kitchen, already feeling delirious…
En route, I realised the piles were bloodless…
I soon turned to feeling self-piteous,
I’d left the hot tap running, disastrous!
Cause it had overflowed, The alarm was cacophonous,
The phone sounded, and a half-asleep voice asked us…
Are you all right? Your kitchen overflow alarm is sounding,
I lied, telling her that everything was fine, apologising.

The phlegm in my throat and chest was almost choking,
The sore throat hurt so much when coughing,
It was even worse when I did any sneezing,
Got the bucket & mop from WR, & started cleaning,
By which it was not so easy, breathing,
To the wet room, the cleaning things returning,
What I saw was almost blood-curdling…
I’d left the washbasin hot tap running!
At least it wasn’t overflowing,
I wondered what the next Fauxpa would be coming!

After that, I, more or less, shattered…
My interest, plans, and hopes no longer mattered,
In search of sleep, I got the bed battered,
Spent an hour getting the up-down positions mastered,
I threw on a giant thick quilt and got under the mattress
Stayed there until the arrival of the DVT INR nurse…
I consider Hristina to be genuinely precious…
She is kind, caring and pulchritudinous,
This photo of her on the balcony is priceless to me…
It was framed and sent to me by Cyber-Mate Timothy,
Lovely Hristi, I wandered off-track there, sorry,
Back into the hospital bed, not feeling sleepy…
I covered myself with the giant quilt completely,
I didn’t know it then, but consequently…
Tomorrow morning was to go worse, astoundingly!
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This bug is depressing, to say the least,
No sleep, depression, at least at the moment. The seizures seem to have died down a lot.
I’m a little worried about the Anne Gyna medications and others that are about to run out again. Richard’s not coming on Monday was not his fault; the lad’s was so poorly. The stock was not checked, so no order was sent to the doctors for prescriptions from the chemist. There are only three days of Ansoperapol left to treat my Anne Gyna pains. I mentioned this to the late Carer Colin (I think) on Thurs.

I kept trying to catch up on sleep every day, but it failed. I wish I knew why. I have been without shuteye for three days now. Concentration is just a memory. CorelDraw and the computer are playing up, and there is no camera. The Caregiver, who was off for a few days, needed his camera to record the birth of his second child. Hope it all goes well for them. 👍🏼

I still need sleep, but I don’t feel all that tired?
This bug is a bugger!
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I’m Struggling Here, Midears!
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Inchy: Sat/Sun 18-19th January 2025

20/01/2025 / Inchie / 7 Comments

– – – Sunday 15:00hrs – – –
On Saturday, I got as far as doing the Ode header below and kicked off. They came thicker and faster than they ever have before. I could concentrate on nothing, and time lost all meaning. Made worse when joined in, and the rest of the day was lost in more than one way.
I believe I must have had a mammoth seizure in the afternoon. Why? I’ll tell you, well, I’ll try.
I returned to semi-reality and found that the list of words I was to use to use, with hundreds of words on it, had disappeared from the computer. I searched all the Notepad files. Then, I searched everywhere else, thinking I may have saved the update to the wrong folder or file. I stopped to send off the Friday Blog. Then, I decided I’d start a new word list for the rhymes. I spent five hours selecting and saving the words to Notepad or Notes now; I think it may be called.
I got into the hospital bed, then after an hour or so, got up again and went back onto the computer to add to the list. Stooped and got the ablutions & medicationings done.
I worked through it until Carer Shaquille arrived. Then, at about 08:15hrs, I went back to them.
I stopped when Carer Maryham arrived. I told her about my all-night marathon and showed her I’d lost the word list. I found on WordPress that I’d also lost the template for Sunday!
So, I wrote this script to explain the situation.
I will ask a Carer on Monday to phone the Doctor. I can’t go on like this. Anne Gyna, Siezures Sandra, camera kaputt. I burnt my hand on Saturday on the new oven, and the pain from Catheter Cathy’s contraption tube is so bad that I’ve taken off the protective pants I put on this morning. And it’s so cold today, but I’d sooner have the cold than extra pain. I think.
I’m going to continue making the word list. I will carefully click on ‘save’ regularly. If I feel a seizure coming on, which I sometimes do, I’ll try to stop working immediately.
Then, time permitting, I’ll finish the Government Ode and post this off. It could be near midnight, but I may have problems staying awake to do it.
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They’re all blended now, a political purple…
Labavatives & Conserabours, both in trouble
Their Differences were once clearly distinguishable.
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Their ideals previously unalterable,
Now, they seem to be easily adsorbable,
Shared, swapped, most adaptable,
Labour defended the most susceptible,
Which I found to be accreditable,
Keirs stealing from the pensionable,
Naturally, I felt it was cruel and abominable…
Apprehensible, it should make him arrestable!
Pensioners & farmers, easily fleeceable,
More a Conservative than any Tory, incredible!
As PM, he is no longer creditable,
Taking backhanders, lying; it’s incomprehensible!
He might have a title, but he’s not Honourable,
Labour’s honest values are gone, irretrievable,
Starmer’s actions are unbelievable!
Bent HMG rules mean he’s not convictable,
He’s blind despite his freebies apposable,
To the damage he’s done as our apical.
Ruling his timocracy like a cockwomble,
His lies & fiddles are shown to be confutable,
I hope he’s visited by someone paradisiacal!
Old Father Time, or ran over by a Tournapull,
I’m sorry for being misanthropical,
I find Keir incomprehensible and enigmatical!
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Not feeling too good now.
But so glad I got the ode done. It is not one of my best; it was written with a bit of angst at my stupidity of losing all the work and being unable to calm Ane Gyna down.
Huh! I just wrote this, and she’s slowed down, and each stab of pain seems to be less bothersome than the previous one… at long last. I wish for this and hope.

Sunday night now, and I will get a meal of some sort and do my best to get some much-needed sleep.

I was sitting watching the TV… well, I was initially, but within ten minutes, I was in the land of nod. Carer Carer surprisingly made the last call. I was a bit out of it, mentally. It was so lovely to see her again, but what was said was a jumbled mixture of odd bits that I could remember. I struggled to gear back to the bliss of sleep. No , but I recognised that my own thoughts were about why the gal had to do extra shifts. I presume that Carer Richard is not in a good situation with his diabetic problems and may have knocked off work. If so, he will be suffering at home. He’s been struggling himself lately. I hope he is okay. Also, I hope Carer Joanne is getting better; she was not very well on her last visit the other day. Many people have this cold-weather bug to contend with; Joanne has catheter problems, & her coughing and wheezing concern me. But I was still glad to see Kara again.

Eventually, I got up and made a meal of sorts, fish balls, onions and Milk Roll sliced bread with a BBQ tomato sauce dip. I found approximately 4 empty bags of onion rings, and a Marmite crisps in the wastebasket.