Inchie Today: 19th July…no, June, 2026 – An even worse start to the day!

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FRIDAY 19th July 2027
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Another ever-waking-up night!
I got up to respond to a rare nocturnal demand for the 
Boy, was it hard. The word concrete came to mind as I sat there trying to force, to urge it along, a single torpedo.
It was a dark green colour, with yellow tinges. It almost clunked as it was evacuated against the porcelain, too large to fit in the water. I guess 70% of it was out of the water.  
Possibly a record for me. Hehe! I cleaned myself up, a fair bit of bleeding as it painfully edged its way to freedom.
Tore off the PPs, I’ll ask the Carer in a few hours when he does the first call, to help me get them on.
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Missed off of yesterday’s post
I’d written these down on the notepad, but since I was forced to do mostly written info, I might have thought I was done with it until I looked at the post later on. It was hard work yesterday. Why? I’ll tell yers…
Midday, I asked the Carer to ring and report that my hot water was running cold. Again, I did not want to risk carrying the slow-cooker bowl and kettle from the kitchen to the wetroom and back several times just to have a wash and shave. High Accident Risk.
He was on my landline for about 4 minutes, then drifted back to his mobile phone to report the event. I called him, but no response, so I went out into the hallway and asked him if the cold water situation had been reported. “They will ring you back later”. I’ve never heard of them saying that before. So I asked again for confirmation. “Yes”, he said. Then disappeared into the hallway again. I asked him to mop the kitchen for me, which he did in four minutes. Nippy?
I asked him if he was going on a long call along with the short call – he checked his mobile, and said “Yes”. I inquired how long he had been doing. “1½hrs,” I asked him why was he playing on his phone, while the laundry still needed doing? He took the laundry down. I asked him to call Jenny to put her in the frame.
He returned later, five minutes later (nippy?). And said he had to go now. So, he went. Naturally, I got on with the blog and forgot all about the maintenance not calling.
About 16:10hrs, the Carer returned. I asked him again, “Had you been told they would ring back?” Answer, “I think so.” I asked him to call them, but he wasn’t interested. So after he left, I rang them as he left sharply. I asked him to make the rolls for me the same as the previous night. Which he did.
I got through to the Maintenance number and went through two sets of choices, but on the third set, I had difficulty hearing them. I opted for number 4
, and the phone rang, changed to Music, with regular “All we ask is that you treat our staff with respect as they help sort your problem”, then back to Music. For twenty minutes!
I assumed that, as I was late, calling was the problem.
So two days, soon to be three days without a wash or shave. I’m running out of antiperspirant!
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Return to a hopefully chronological schedule.
I got back into bed, but sleep wasn’t forthcoming, only Agina’s and Shaking-Shoulder-Shirley’s pains.
I was surprised when I got up again and tested the tap to see if hot water had miraculously heated up (Huh!). It hadn’t, and when I put on the computer, it was only 02:45 hrs!
I could not believe it when the follow-through from the first evacuation started. How can this be when it was a rock-solid torpedo on the last visit? I casually hobbled my way to the WC, and was suddenly in a panic as I felt the escapee from the rear end on its way out, wet and warm! (Impossible surely?) But, no! This time it was controlled by !
An involuntary escapage, made worse and messier by my not having any Protection Pants on! I need to say no more about the incident.
However, I will do the cleanup of my body, the bowl, and the splashes!
The real worrying thing was taking all the pain, effort and time to free the dreadnaught an hour earlier, and then this Trotsky effort comes along, wet in the extreme, and all over in seconds. But overall, with the time spent cleaning up, they took about the same amount of time.
I stayed up and checked the dates on the food in the fridge. Then spent some time self-lambasting about my patheticness in not coping with all the messes and insurmountable problems amassed over the last 3 months, in addition to the older ones; and they all remain unsolved. And stewed over my failings. I thought that the effects of Premorbid Cognitive Impairment and the TBI on my abilities to do some things were not being taken into account. I have to accept this, no choice. But I am irked by some comments and instructions.
As with “You’ll have to go to the QMC A&E by taxi if you get any problems with this new Hooked Catheter”. No discussions, just an instruction for me for the future. I won’t go into all the problems this gives me physically, financially, time-wise, and practically.
These thoughts have increased my need and desire to please get put in a home.
Hopefully, a lot of these problems, for that is what they are for me, should be reduced.
One of the most heartwarming things I’ve been told this week is that Jenny & Frank said they could visit me. I am surviving now only through their support and understanding. Bless them; they have their own difficulties to cope with. Yet they find time to help me, so much, so often.❤️🤗X.

The above thought must have helped me calm down, for I soon fell into a deep sleep. Zzzz!
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CARER EJAZ TO THE RESCUE!
PROBLEMS started as the chime from the intercom rang out. My mind and body were all over the place. As best I can recall, a shortness of breath was the first thing I noted. I struggled to get out of bed, and even more to stand up & get my balance, in fact, I didn’t for a while. Carer Ejaz had to fill in the details of the next 15 minutes or so. This bit is now a blank to me.
I got to the door as Ejaz arrived. I was unaware of the night bag dragging as I walked. He took it off in the hallway. I was out-of-it, and wandering about, he said he had trouble getting me to settle and sit down. 
I was not talking properly, and he had to ask me to repeat things for a few minutes, although my normal stuttering returned minutes later. 
I seemed intent on asking him to get someone to ring the Council Repairs about my having no hot water, and had not washed or shaved for maybe three days now. Thank heavens it was Ejaz who called, not one of the others; he even checked this writing for me later, for accuracy, I had to change some things in it.
He said I was struggling to walk even with a stick, and fetched me back as I was apparently getting a bottle of soda water from the fridge, and I had one that I’d fetched earlier put on the falling-to-pieces cabinet the computer was on. He stood away from me as I wobbled back into the room and just collapsed, crumpled to the floor. He thought the right leg had given way by the way I went down. I had trouble getting hold of his hands as he tried to get me up. It seems I was way off target, but he soon had me up and onto the bed. He was musing over whether to call 999 and sat watching over me for a while. He thought I’d fallen asleep for ten minutes or so, then woke, looking around for the nocturnal Catheter bag, which concerned me, as it wasn’t there. Noting how I got up so easily & moved to the chair, he thought I was coming back then, but still asked if I wanted to press the alarm alert. I thanked him and declined the offer. He said he could understand me more easily when I talk at this point.
From here, I was more with it, and my memory was pretty clear of what happened.
The lad gave me the medications, making sure I took them all, with the mineral water, without dropping any. Like I did yesterday, I found a Codeine on the floor near the computer that the Carer had not noticed. Ejsz then Phorpain Gelled my right shoulder. He asked if I wanted a brew and bikkies or flakes for breakfast. I thanked him, but declined. (I think, no, I’m sure). 
I know I asked him, maybe not for the first time, if he could get someone to ring the NCC Repairs to confirm with them of how long I’d been without hot water.
And told him of the Carers’ cock-up, telling me they (NCC Repairs) were going to ring me back, and they didn’t, if indeed they had said that at all – they most likely told him they were so busy, I had to ring them back. And of my 3 failed attempts at getting through, the last time I waited 20 minutes before giving up. 

Ejaz had overstayed his time, bless him, and had to rush off. I don’t think I thanked him properly for his help.
I feel awful now about that.
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JS FOOD DELIVERY
The JC delivery arrived, just in time to miss the Carer.
Only one item was missing, which meant the cream cakes, lemon wafers, and orange & lemon mousse arrived for Jenny & Frank. Frank came up to collect them later. Kind of him. Some nice ready-made meals.
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I was slowly coming around and feeling a little better, more aware of things. And emailed Jenny in hopes of taking the treats down for her & Frank.
Frankie arrived, bless him, to pick up the treats. I think they’ll like these, without doubt. Got an email from Jenny explaining that I was a badly behaved boy. Hehe!❤️🌸
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I spent a while pondering why I was in such a state this morning, but reached no definitive conclusions.
This was my second night of only smatterings of sleep.
I was mega-tense last night, with all the problems old and new, like the NCC Repair line not working, a total of six calls have been made over the last two days, not getting through. No Carer has asked Carer Mirza to call the computer man for help with the new problems with the new computer; each and every one of them has been asked, and begged by me, to do it for me. The old and well-outstanding problems with the Oligarchs, Virgin Media, British Gas, Liberty-Global, TSB Bank, Repayment of ICC Fees, and trying to tell the world that I need to get proper help and Care… Still, never mind!
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Carer Andrew arrived, and I asked him again to ring the NCC to explain that I had no hot water. I also told him that two nights ago, he had not done the safety checks that should be done on leaving after each call. Oven, stove, taps not running in the kitchen or bathroom, and fridge & freezer doors not open. I burnt my fingers on the hot pot and nearly dropped the contents all over, but managed to miss myself and had to clean it up.
He said, ‘Sorry’, which was something. Again, he did not issue the Vit-3d tablets, but I understood why. They were for a short-course treatment, so these would not have been on the ICC Carers’ list, and I can’t always remember. I explained this to him and took the tablet from the pot myself, adding it to the midday pot of medications. I rang the number on my landline for the Carer and handed him the handset. We got the usual option making and then through to Music-‘All we ask is respect for our Agent as they deal with your problem’ -Music- to Music-‘All we ask is respect for our Agent as they deal with your problem’ Back to Music, All we ask is respect for our Agent as they deal with your problem’ – back to Music… What the phone call cost me, I don’t know or want to know. Within 25 minutes, someone answered the phone. Carer handed me the phone to confirm who I was, and gave permission for the Carer to handle things. Then we were put through to another department – ‘All we ask is respect for our Agent as they deal with your problem’ -Music- to Music-‘All we ask is respect for our Agent as they deal with your problem’ Back to Music, All we ask is respect for our Agent as they deal with your problem’ – back to Music… the Carer had wandered out into the hallway again when a voice came on, I beckoned him, and he got on the phone. Talked for a few minutes, answering questions, and declared that someone would be with us within 24 hours. At least we had a bit of success with a problem for once. 👍🏻😃 I avoided going into Smug-Mode!
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I realised how well I’d come on as the morning progressed. I’d still like to know what caused the mind-body confusion in the first place. I even remembered the Care Navigator Lady telling me to call the QMC, NHS Trust, or Control number to ask who to speak to about the problem of the lack of information given to me when I had to go in to have the hooked-Catheter fitted. I couldn’t find where I’d written the number down, so I looked it up on Google. 0115 924 9924. And rang it at 12:10hrs, it was engaged. 12:20hrs, it was engaged. 12:30hrs, it was engaged. I got on with this blog and tried again at 12:50hrs; it was engaged. I got through at 12:55hrs. Explained the problem, and the lady said I needed the Neurology Ext and would put me through to it. I asked her for the number in case I had to ring back: Ext 78331 Neurology. It rang and rang, rang & rang… I gave up. I kept trying on and off for another hour. Ringing but no answer.
Why was I not surprised?
I needed to know about changing the new hooked Catheter day bag. How often? Can the carers do it? The new array of tube holders looks collapsible. Does anything need changing on that? The plaster underneath the array says that it needs Alcohol to remove it? How do I get some, and where from? The plaster has fallen off of its own accord after two days. I’ve used finger plaster strips to try to contain it, but each has detached. Any advice on its importance? I am still using the regular night bags. Is this okay? Is my going to QMC A&E with any problems still apply? Is there a Heaven with St Peter’s gate? Will my Grim Reaper be able to help with these questions?
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Speedy Response From NCC Electrician
The next event was the arrival of an NCC electrician to investigate the hot water failure. At this point, why, how, I don’t know… I recalled the problem I am/was/am having with the British Gas Oligarchs. And before the gentleman started, I told him of the problem with the British Gas guys not allowing me on the site, and Ejaz doing his absolute best the one time we got on. He spent ages and ended up getting instructions on how to solve the issue. The layout was not like the one she said. The lad sent them photographs of the meter. Finally, on that call, a lady asked me, “Do you want me to send an engineer to look at your meter?” I replied, “That would be super-dooper, that’s what we’ve been asking for for over an hour!” But no one came. Unless, of course, because I spent so much time in the hospital, 3 days, 4 days and then five weeks, do you think they may have called then?
The electrician agreed that this could be the problem. The meter I had was unique for two reasons: it is over 15 years old, and it is the only one like it in the 650 flats at Winwood Heights! He said he would phone his boss to see if they could apply some pressure. Great!
He got the booster on, said it’s best to use it each day, and showed me how to apply it. I will take a while to heat up, but you might be able to have a wash and shave now if you find out when it is at its hottest, estimating 45 minutes after pressing the booster. Summat else to add to the confusion in my brain. The Carer came back, then left again. Having said that… I was amazed that after such an incomprehensibly bad start to the day, I was seemingly at the sharpest I’ve been for months mentally. The body had not improved much, though, recalling the need to phone the NCC and Neurology for advice, and of course, remembering the British Gas git’s problems, etc.
Now I foolishly entered a full Smug Mode!
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Tried Again To Reach The Hospital
Gotten Himmel, and Good Heavens!
I got through to the switchboard on the sixth try!
The lady asked me which extension I wanted. I remembered that Ext 78331 was the one I needed, and the phone was answered within two minutes.
I fumbled a bit verbally, trying to explain to her what I needed, since it was a new bent-end Catheter and I was unsure where to take it off, as it had a different layout. Many questions but no advice. After she’d had enough of me, she said she’d call the District Nurses. I told her it was nurses who gave me your number to ring!
Not the most usefull phone call. Incidentally, the Patient Navigator also gave me her number.
Now I don’t know whether she called the nurses, and I still don’t know how to change the pouch safely. Or if the swatch dropping off is important?
And, it’s due to be changed today.
Another Problem Joins The List!
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Looking back at the above, I may have gotten the chronological timing wrong. The facts are okay.
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Third visit of the day to the Porcelain Throne. What an odd pattern! Conrad is in charge of the first, Trotsky is in charge of the second. And for the third, Constipation Konrad was right back in charge of the proceedings!
I was amazed there was no bleeding.
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I stuck to getting this blog advanced, but realised the boost to the hot water must be about to stop, so went for a shave and a wash, and did the teggies. Back soon, I hope. Turned on the boost on the meter.
What a busy day!
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Carer Andrew came, which stopped me from shaving & washing. He paingelled the shoulder and legs for me, issued medications, and we looked at the new Catheter against the old ones. We think it might be safe to use them, but we are not certain. Hopes of a Nurse calling are fading as teatime arrives.
Now I’ll go back to the wet room and see if the water is hot enough to shave, a lot of stubble to remove.
Back in a bit, or longer.
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Two Hours later: I’m back.
The boost button warmed the water, but not enough to shave in, so I had to boil the kettle to add to the barely warm water. I can’t tell if I didn’t give the boost long enough or gave it too much time before running the tap.

In the wet room, I found some marks on some fingers, and got the scrubbing brush and bleach on them, as they were stubborn, in fact, impossible to get off.
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I tried to get some sleep, but, just like the last three nights, it only came with a few short nod-offs, and I was springing awake again. Getting fed up with this.
I got up at around 02:30hrs, and after struggling but managing to remove the Nocturnal Catheter pouch and put the PPs on, I got on the computer.
I noticed that I was getting a little slow, and the concentration was ebbing at times. I had an email from Jenny, & when I scrolled to reply to it, I could not find it! I think I responded to all she mentioned. Bless Her.
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I got this updated to hear, and posted it on WP.
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Inchie Today: Thursday 18th June.

– – As is life for Inchie Hehe! – –
I would have used CorelDraw to cut out my face and add it to the old graphic above. But as CorelDraw has corrupted on the new £ 850 computer, which is not working properly. 
Another hint at Inchies lousy luck! Grrr!

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ODE TO MEMORIES OF A BETTER TIME
GC smileInchies’ very first EPIPHANY!
Hints of naughtiness, from his initial dip into promiscuity,
The 13-year-olds’ introduction, flirtatiously!

A neighbour who was obviously older and wiser… 

In the ways of coupling, indulgency & intimacy, 
Inchie recognised her instant pulchritudity
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Her first move had him surprised, but smiling,

He’d never enjoyed such passionate groping,
Then hairy-breast fondling, desire for more growing,
On which she was soon educating,

Guiding what was firmly expanding…
Sex on his first date… Amazing!
He sensed an inner central heating,

They carried on fondling and amalgamating,
It turned into a thrice-weekly practice…
One that Inchy would never miss,

The settee, bed or on the Axminsters,
She showed how to use some appliances,
One overheated session, they needed bandages,

I’ll leave you to guess the reasons…
And Inchy has still got the lesions!

He never again built plastic aeroplanes!
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5 years before his Epiphany!
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-The giving way on me, right leg-
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Inchie Today: Wednesday 17th June 2026 – Teriible start ot the day!

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MUST BE THE WORST DAY EVER – UP TO NOW
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LOUSY NIGHT – CRUEL MORNING
Managed a few moments of sleep, kept waking up in a right peed off mood. Just needed sleep, but the demons and evilf-fieindly bad-luck-bringing thoughts of my own concoction seemed unbeatable today.
Rising from the bed and hobbling my way to the nocturnal Catheter pouch on the floor near the recliner, my right leg gave way, and once again, as yesterday, I was fortunate enough to lean towards the chair to land semi-softly and injury-free. 
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I was still sitting in it, and trying to nod off again, as the intercom chined out its “Oh, Susana” tune. The knee gave way as soon as I stood up, and by the time I’d got to the panel to admit the Carer, it had closed down. I waited a few minutes to see if they had been admitted or would ring back, then returned to the recliner, expecting the Carer to come in. “Oh, Susana”, rang out again. This time, I got to the box a bit quicker and in time to let them in.
Carer Mizra appeared, did a body check, and creamed or gelled the areas in need. Shoulder, back and genitals. Then Mizra got the medications issued.
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I was pleased with how the new computer was working. When first opened, both external drives were accessible! But, of course, within a few minutes, they had disappeared. Back to normal, then.
The hour-and-a-half Carer visit didn’t happen, the same as yesterday. 
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1) The computer, specifically CorelDraw, froze as I clicked export for the Cartoon to go to the file to use here.
2) I could not close down by the regular route. So had no choice but to turn off at the power sockets.
3) But I could not get the computer to reboot.
Nothing but trouble since paying £850 plus fitting to get this computer, and I could not find his telephone number!
But knew that Mizra had it, as he liaises for me.
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4) Carer Andrew made the short midday call. I asked him to ring Mizra and ask him to call the engineer. No reply, so I don’t know if he did.
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5) While he was here, I tried a couple of times to get the computer back on, but both attempts failed.
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6) I found the Carer lying in the hallway on his mobile.
I thought he’d gone. I asked him again to contact Mizra for me. No response.
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7) I did get the loading to go as far as the opening label screen, but this one usually comes up first… so it was not a surprise when the ‘Working Circle’ appeared and the mouse arrow showed on the screen. It stayed like this for over an hour! Demoralising!
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8) I turned everything off at the power again and lost the TV signal in doing so, and heard a series of Beeps coming from the hard drive.
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9) All off again. TV was not affected this time.
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10) This had to be my last try. I was so downhearted.

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11) Then, I got a telephone call from a something navigator, from the Doctors Surgery. She mentioned a meeting with advisers I’d been invited to via email. There was a vague memory, but nothing certain. The lady explained it was about sorting people’s needs out, and the best way to do so. I jumped at the chance. I think she said someone would be calling to arrange a meeting.
Linda, I think her name was. I mentioned my wish, if possible, to go into a home. In hopes of relieving the tensions from getting nothing sorted, with problems being added almost daily, which challenges my sanity,  health, and my ability to cope.
12) Today is a good example.
The early tumbles. The computer is playing up yet again. No hot water. 4 weeks since my last shower or shopping assistance. Adding to the Banking, British Gas, Virgin Media, the new Catheter’s lack of information or instructions. No help was given with managing procedurally.
13) Do I carry on with a weekly day-bag change? Is it safe to use with a nocturnal pouch fitted?
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14) Not that I could put photos on the blog, anyway, both camers are broken!
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14) Now, my prime love/hatred, the new computer, cannot access CorelDraw or Excel. So, there are no graphics or photographs that can be used. Other than any already in the WordPress gallery.
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15) I rang the District nurses for help on how to manage the new Catheter, who told me to contact the QMC. I went on a little about the situation I am in.
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I then rang Jenny, who rang back. But I was not really with it t the time, in fact, I had a nasty seizure after making the call, mind blank. Extra confusion.
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16) I received a call back from the nurses while still a little out-of-it. I was asked if I am really interested in going into a home. I think I took this opportunity to get my thoughts out, and they will ask Matron Jackie to see if she can get the ball rolling. Brilliant. Cause things are getting worse here now. Problems increasing, solutions decreasing.
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Movements from the rear end started again today, all in Constipation Conrad mode. A bit of blood each time from the haemorrhoids. At least no accidental evacuations with Conrad.
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I’ll have to do only the Ode. Oh, it’s been such a busy, annoying day; I’ve not done it yet.

I suspect this blog holds ampullosity?
Changing moods bring ambivalency,
Spent most of the day crestfallenly,
Spent many sessions self-critically,

Problems show
ing no curability,
Concentration, showing a deficiency,
Hopes, needs, logic, all seem to disagree,
Depression increases, diurnally…
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Is life, like a politician, an effigy?
Not realistic, no ecclesiology?
What happened to youth’s excitability?
80, first time owing for your electricity?
Into the mist, goes you equilibrity,
No more mental or physical euphony…
I used to hope for an epiphany…
But life now proves more euphuistically,
I also dreamt of finding eudaemony…
I got this depressing ennui!
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It was once suggested by Dr Neurology,
To help me electroencephalographically,
But that was in September, 2003,
Then a stroke, TBI, and Cancer hit me,
Dr Neurolgy again saw me in 2023,

Sometimes I can think with clarity…
I hasten to add, this happens rarely,
Then my mind goes wanderingly,
Mind blanks can hit anytime, lastingly…
or for a few moments, mysteriously,
Moments too, of great falability,
Frequent occasions of mental obliquity,
With unstoppable times of neurotomy,
Hoyrly changes to me nimiety,
Dementia turned me flibbertigibbety,
Duodenal ulcer, hernia, verbal nugacity,
But can I face the nitty-gritty?
The crux of the problematic matter?
Slowly but surely going détraquée!
I’m now an ace at dontopedalogy,
Few teeth left, crinkled skin, pilgarlicky…
Had enough of life’s woes & mallarky,
Being as I don’t want to sound sarky…
To avoid moaning and negativity,
I blame it on my pfropfschizophrenie!
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Lack of control, of happenings & events,
My ever-changing consciousness,
From unawareness to utter cluelessness.

People I talk to will see/hear a difference…
No in-between, Depression or High Horace,
Decisions to be made, I’m on the fence,
Knowing danger, what’s my response?
Forget; as it dies in my memory disperses,
Involuntarily, to my memory burners,
Lack of control, of happenings & events.
Make life a struggle, that’s so intense…
Worries, problems, Catheter, fears…
Self-hatred, incapable, many mental fratches,
Solutionless, can’t batten down any hatches,
I hate my changing moods & responses,
Often say things I find erroneous,
Mostly to myself, & of course Darius,
Important dates, numbers, emails…
Texts, etc., that no one can solve,
Fade away, making me feel injudicious,
I used to think that life was so precious,
Now it’s approaching worthless,
New computer, camera, faith, & hopes,
All kaput, I feel so inefficacious,
Really, my outlook is hopeless…
I hate my changing moods & responses.
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I’m Struggling!
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 TTFN

Inchie: Tuesday 16th June 2026

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Today’s farcicalness, combined with my rare, so precious moments of ‘Sod-It-All’ moments…– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
oozed a warning to me. Not a precise indication of things to come, as they would have been from the voice in the head. Vague in details, other than I will not like of cope very well with problems, whatever they may be. But positive that things will take a turn for the worse in the morning, certain of the timing.
I think that my absolute, assured definiteness that they will arrive as the occupant of my cerebrum (Premorbid Cognitive Impairment Inchy), as revealed and kept reminding me throughout the day, grounded the possibility that whatever these events might actually be, they will happen. Thus encouraging short, frequent visitations from . Which were great, though it was confusing why I should appreciate the change in outlook and, somehow, guilt-making.
Which may have prompted me to do nothing else for the day, other than updating and renewing from scratch Word-Lists that this new computer keeps finding impossible to reach to use! Then, minutes later, it finds them, then, as another of the multiple Virgin Internet failures, they are unfindable again.
I realised after hours of catching up on them, I’d saved them to the same location, ARRGH!
At the very moment I recognised this and swore and cursed a few times, the virgin Internet connection failed for what must have been the 20th time… and I had to start all over again. By the time I’d got 20% of one ending completed, early evening, it had stopped visiting me altogether.
Adding the fact that the hot water tap had stopped heating around 17:00hrs, when it should have started to heat. I had to use the kettle and the slow cooker for hot water. again. I decided not to bother shaving, too risky for spilt or fropped hot water – But I found that the cooker had not been checked, and when I moved it to clean it, I burnt my finger ends. No problem, I had plenty of cold water to use, which prevented blisters from coming up.
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By then, I was not interested in making a meal, as I was more concerned about what   or I would be expected to face in the morning.
I’ll feel like a fool if nothing happens. Hehe!
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I mustered up a rather sad meal. Pickled vegetable salad from a jar, three bags of crisps, and a one-day-out-of-use-by-date chicken pieces. Threw them in a dish and added some Teriyaki sauce. Fell asleep, woke up with the television still on, and the dish on the floor with scattered bits on me, the chair and the carpet. When I got up to clear and clean things, the right leg gave way, and I tumbled back into 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. I gave up and stayed there.
Surrounded by vegetables and the smell of the pickle, squashing the spilt food from earlier on the cushions, arms, and picking bits off of the dressing gown.
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Zzzz!
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Ideas mused over, of what to tell the Doctor about.
Seek knowledge of the new bent-end Catheter. District Nurses can’t touch it. I was told to get a taxi to the A&E at the QMC. No other advice.
But how often are they to be changed? Been having flowback &/or blockage every two weeks of two months now. I dread it happening again, especially given that I need £30 each time to travel to the A&E and back. Incidentally, on this visit, the ring road was blocked and not moving; the Fare Clock kept ticking, though. So paid not £15 for this trip, but £25.40, leaving me short of cash to get a taxi back. Thankfully, a lift home was provided.
Treated badly at the A&E when the spraying shot out of the penis down legs and on clothes – had to ask for the WC to try and stop the flood and clean myself up. I was sent through the passageways back to the WC at the door that I’d come in from hours earlier. No toilet paper or towels available ans it was flooded. Luckily, I had taken a roll of kitchen towels with me in the walker trolley.
Got back to the unit eventually, feeling a bit better. But had missed my turn. So, another wet-wait. Finally, a Doctor called my name; it was getting late, and he looked very tired. He went to get the new Catheter tube in twice, and rang someone, whom he then took me to see as he was getting his coat on to go home. I don’t think he was too happy to see me.
He looked agog when he saw the state of the bloodied and unclean on the PPs and clothes. He hastened to insert the tube but failed. A low growl escaped him, and on his second try, he gave it some stick, which went in. He spoke coherently for the first time, telling me not to touch the holding patch on the containment array that was stuck on my thigh, very important, he said. No reason given why, but still.
I sat in the corridor, wondering how I was going to get home. Thankfully, a lady came and told me to stay where I was, and someone would collect me and drive me home. The highlight of the day.
Naturally, I was the last one to be dropped off.
Desperate for a wash and clean-up, I found that the hot water tap was running cold water!
At 03:00hrs, I got the computer on (on the fifth attempt), and the pain from the Catheter tube got seriously painful. The appointment with the Doctor took ages. Today, being 16th June, the earliest appointment I could get was for 10th July. Not sure I can last that long with how things are going, or rather, not going, and getting done; and new problems keep introducing themselves.
And, I’ve been told I have to supply a taxi both ways if I want a Carer to go with me. So, that’s £30 worth of taxi every two weeks, whatever it costs to do the shopping, and Escort Carers, whom the NHS insist I take with me. Especially since this seizure and my straying into Mansfield Road in front of a bus. Now the new coudé tipped Catheter fears. The financial, British Gas, Virgin Media signing in, and the Bank problems. On and on they arrive, unsolved.
I can’t carry on like this.
I shall beg to go into a home. Where positive, knowledgeable help might be available.
Cause it ain’t getting none here. Bar, the great advice, help and understanding from Jen. 💗
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Found it impossible to get back to sleep.
Feeling niggly, I got up, knee still dodgy, and painfully tried to clean up the mess.
Didn’t
do a good job.
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1951.
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TTFNski, Each!

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Inchies Monday Ode – 15th June 2026

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Bad day, not much recorded. Anne Gyna, Cathetr and Shaking-Shoulder-Shirley each a bother, and took most of my attention. I might have put on an old Ode by mistake as well. Late on, Dizzy-Dennis paid me an unwanted visit.
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Inchies Ode: Sunday 14th June 2026

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The ailment with the most pain today was undoubtedly . When I had a seizure, as usual, Shirley started shuddering, and the pain brought me back into a world of confusion, with a refusal to grasp anything brain-related. This time, the out-of-itness lasted for well over an hour. Most off-putting.
Also, the balance was all over the place, as if someone had shaken me out of the seizure. Well, I suppose that  did do that.
I know it happened again after a late seizure, and I took a tumble of the delicate kind, aiming for and landing in the c1966, £300, second-hand charity-shop bought, crumb-containing, odour-retaining, Harold’s Haemorrhoid-testing, nauseatingly beige coloured, non-working, virus-breeding recliner. Dislodging the alcohol to remove the patch on my leg, which holds/keeps the assembly, array of connecting tubes together… but now it dangles loosely. And I cannot ask the District Nurses for help. Should I activate the instructions given to me? “Get a Taxi to the QMC, A&E department”, as I had to do the other day? Well, I can’t, I do not have enough cash to pay for a taxi. What alternatives have I got?
Option One: I could wait until a Carer arrives in two hours, ask them to get me dressed and the walker trolley out, and tell them I will not be in for my next two medication calls. Then catch a bus to Sherwood, one to Nottingham, then a tram to the hospital. Which will mean missing the Warfarin, Beta-Blockers and other doses. I’ll likely spend hours waiting; the fungal lesion will spurt blood and urine again. And another day lost. But looking back at my last bus and tram trips to and from the QMC is like a horror story. I got lost. Took a tumble on the tram. Had yobboes bother in the way back in the City Centre. Then I missed the bus stop, and had to walk up the mountainous Wincester Street hill to get to the flat. The Carer called me en route, from my flat, but did not come to assist me, as I struggled with obstinate Anne Gyna and breathing. Option One was not attractive.
Option Two: As option one, but take a bus to Sherwood, see if I have any money and try to get it out of the ATM. Then get a taxi to the hospital, by which time I may have been poisoned by the backflow into the kidneys, before even being seen. Mmm? Not good!
Option Three: Commit Suicide.
In the end, I stuck some cellotape over the crumpled holding patch and hoped for the best.
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She was at her most venomous. I couldn’t do anything with the arm or shoulder without it hurting. I’d cross my fingers if it wasn’t for  twisting my fingers. Tsk!

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Inchie Ode: Saturday 13th June 2026

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I appreciate Earth’s coming extinction,
I hold my own-formulated view, an apriorism,
What brought about this abnormalisation?
Which worsened with each generation,
Bringing about this apocalypticism,
Be it Oligarchs making ammunition…
Gangsters, Mafia, or another Politician,
Judges, give five 5 tears for non-fatal arson,
Murderers get 10, out in five with remission,
A fine for Bankers showing corroboration,
Barristers, judges, hypocritical and alien,
Starmer, Trump, Xi Jinping and Putin…
Each dishonest, a liar, using abstraction,
They start wars, just for a distraction…
What can be done by the proletariat, scum?
Are all crooks standing at each election?
Starmer is a clever liar; taught as a barrister,
Who often welcomes a backhander,
This is why he is sadly still in power,

Starmer the feigner, the verbal-dribbler,
But the opposition is not a lot better…
Kemi Badenoch, Tory Shadow Leader…
Your Party, the only NHS supporter,
I feel for Kemi, after the Tory disaster,
Nigel is the only leader who’s a smiler,
Despite his failings, Keir’s still the leader?
PM? I see him as a National Grim Reaper,
Promises not kept, the NHS sinks deeper…
He’s a disingenuous, foxy equivocator,
So, I’m ready for my sepulchre…
Life is now full, apocryphally,
I’ve no strength to act anarchically,
Last week, the nurse said to me…
A blocked Catheter is a medical emergency.
The next day, the Catheter was blocked, poor me!
Two nurses came to change the contraption,
Both failed to complete the action…

My Willie refused each attempted insertion,
After they held a phone conversation…
Told me to get a taxi to the QMC,
Reporting to the A & E…
So, I did, it cost me £25.40!
Getting there took time, an hour and forty!
Got inside, the place, A & E, was filthy…
No towels or paper in the WC,
Through the lesions, I began to forcefully pee!
I waited until I was called in the A & E,
Got called, I went, urine drippingly…
A nurse asked questions, & did my BP,
Back in a chair, ever waitingly,
To another waiting room, he led me,
Then the lesion wee’d, more forcefully,
I hobbled back to the main room WC,
Now it had towels and bog rolls, thankfully,
Clean up what I could, embarrassingly,
Returned to the waiting room number three,
“Where have you been?” She said to me,
I had a leak, had to go to the cludgie,
“They’ve moved you to the back of the queue!”
 She said, smiling, “I took a seat, waitingly!”
A good job, this was a Medical Emergency!
They may have sent me home to return on Friday,
Two yobboes were arrested, while I sat patiently,
Getting late, will they have time to tend to me?
A Urologist called my name, eventually…
To his cubicle, he then guided me,
He set about putting in a new style Catheter…
With a hook on the end to go into the bladder,
He failed his first try, I was worried…
Tried & failed again, tut-tutted, and phoned,
“We’ll try once more, with Mr Edward”…
“Follow me!” So, did…
Not in a good mood for failing…
He urged me along, as I was hurried,
Mr Edward was not happy either, I’m afraid,
Had his coat on, his expression gave out dread…
He didn’t speak; maybe he was an android?
His angry eyes, I had to avoid…
Think he was on his way home, thus annoyed,
He wasn’t pleased working where I’d wee’d,
He had a go getting the hooked tube inserted…
Gave out a mild growl when he failed,
Tried once more, success was achieved!
No tips or advice on the new Catheter device,
No, I’m wrong, I was not supposed…
to touch the stick-on pad on my thigh!
Got his coat on, out the door he did fly,
I stood in the corridor, like a homunculi,
No one in sight, I almost wanted to cry…
The nice nurse came to me, eye-eye…
I’m to wait in the corridor, and defunkify…
Waiting on a lift home, which was nigh!
Glad I was classed as a Medical Emergency,
Cause I saw no signs of any urgency,
The men came to the ambulance & they led me,
To the vehicle with pains in my right knee,
Then I must admit, to a little self-pity…
As the drivers locked me in and left me,
Tired, hungry, cold, and stinking of pee…
As they went to collect more patients,
To collect them from different departments,
Slowly, they loaded up the ambulance,
I dropped off last, as midnight advances,
They took me up to the flat, taking no chances,
In case I had any tumbles or seizures,
Rang NCC control, using the Alert Controllers,
Then I found the hot water, icily colder!
No wash, shave, or urine removal,
Too risky for me to keep boiling the kettle,
Warmed water, to clean the crutch and testicles,
The Catheter sticker, and divider adminicle,
It moved, collapsed, pulling on my appendicle,
The sticker fell off after a while…
Remember, it’s a Medical Emergency…
To which I should get a taxi to the QMC,
Couldn’t afford a taxi home; I had barely a penny!
I calmed down to make an appraisal…
Nine hours and £25.40, to get fitted…
Four hours later, I involuntarily micturated,
It’s Sunday now, and I’m well-miffed,
I hope you can follow my drift…
Then you can advise me,
My body & mind are acting inappropriately,
I’ve lost my Ode plot again, sadly…
Even thinking is rather addledly,
The right leg is much easier today,
Unlike Shaking-Shoulder-Shirely,
She’s giving me near agony,
I asked Carer Mizra to ring the Doctor,
Then he can arrange a day and hour…
That fits in with the ICC Carers,
I think that’s sensible and wise,
Hope the Catheter has no blockages,
No advice or guides from the QMC Doctors,
On managing with the new Catheters,
All I’ve been told by the nurses is…
“Any problems, get a taxi to the QMC”,
Taxi? I may not have enough money,
And it is a Medical Emergency.
The nurses will be glad to see the back of me,
What with me calling them fortnightly,
And my squirting, spraying my pee…
Through the lesions on Little Inchy,
I think I’d be better in a home residency,
I wouldn’t be bothering Frank & Jenny,
For doing this, I’ve always felt guilty,
Waiting on many a visit, neurology…
Cataracts & Glaucoma, retest the kidney,
Find out what’s causing the collapsing knee,
Help from Age UK, they promised me…
Someone would call, a wheelchair repairer,
Sort the water heater, so I can shower,
Help with the bank site, logging in,
Same with British Gas, and Virgin,
But I got new hearing aids that don’t fit,
I’m hoping to get some financial benefit,
Attendance allowance, will it pay for taxis?
For the instructed fortnightly visits,
I’ll lose a day each time. I’m so needy,
Solving issues? I’m incapable, pathetically,
Depression? I class myself as a Bezonian,
Living with pain, confusion and humiliation,
Without mental or physical coordination,
I’m linked to floccinaucinihilipilification,
I’m forlorn, forfoughten & feel forsaken…
Good luck to me is geason, within reason,
Frequently, I issue self-imprecation,
The brain will not stop its fermentation,
Even after a seizure, with the inanition…
I’m waffling on again, through frustration?
Moan, groan, grumble; is this self-deception?
To avoid possible self-deletion…
I’ve decided! My only solution…
To get things sorted, in fair condition,
Go into a Care Home, it’s the only solution!
I’ll ask how, with a solid conviction,
That way, I may avoid eviction!
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Inchie Today: Up to Friday12th June 2026. A revealing Ode…


During my absence from my beloved blogging, I’ve had another stay in hospital and two visits to A&E. I’ll not mention the Catheter Contraption farce here, or the unbelievable changes made to the medical, or the list of reactionary procedures implemented on the last occasion. In the event of the Catheter bag blocking again. (Five times this week! Classed as a Medical Emergency – You’ll love what I’ve been told to do when it blocks again and each time following.) The Ode I hope to write later will, well, might reveal it all.
Might reveal it all? Why the might? I’ll tell yers…
The engineer returned to look at the non-working, brand-new computer he sold me and performed whatever steps were necessary. Assured me that the comp-F’ing-uter can now access all three of the hard drives, and CorelDraw is working again. Knowing the past record of visits, I did not allow a flutter of belief or even possible joy. 

How right I was not to!
The next morning, it took me four tries to start the computer. This told me that access to the required files could not be made. Have they been moved? Deleted? Make sure that (this was all computer jargon from here on; all I knew was that it was in the same crippled state as before the visit). Also, CorelDraw had blacked out all the options again; Save, Import, Export, and could not access the hard drives anyway. 
As I mentioned in my last blog, ages ago, both cameras are kaput, so even the pleasure of taking sky shots with them means nothing; I couldn’t get them on the computer anyway. Over my enforced holiday break (Huh!), apart from the Catheter agonies and time spent failing to get the tube back in, I reckon that, counting the hospital ones, I must have had various medics grabbing, bruising, making the lesions bleed, 19 failed attempts to get the Catheter tube back in! The agony needs a stronger word.
At least I’ve managed by asking the Carers, emailing the Doctor and phoning the Community Nurses, to get some more of the precious-to-me Oxycodone painkillers. I only take them when needed; they are very strong with so many risky side effects, page after page.
Now, computer permitting, I shall open my own-made rhyming word on a notebook, and start this rare Ode…
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Each time I woke…

I took him to bed with me,

Now he’s part of the family,
I write this Friday, at 03:33,
Who needs help, domestically?
Who needs help, physically?
Who needs help, mentally?
A man who frustratedly…
It happens to be me…
Who had a thought, suicidally,
Will I act? Determined, bravely?
Eyes that get worse visually,
An occupied mind, that distressingly…
slowly denying me accessibility,
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ODE TO MY LAST HOSPITAL VISIT
I awoke to find myself with new pains in the right knee,
Walking into things regularly, so absentmindedly,
Mind confused, my body unsteady, & wobbly
Care Ejaz came, my Catheter was empty…
I guzzled water, too much admittedly,
Soon, the pain turned into absolute agony,
I took an Oxycodone & Codeine, medically
I rang the District Nurses immediately,
An Angel came to change the Catheter…

3 tries at inserting the tube, all a failure,
I felt I needed another Beta-Blocker,
Nurse left, another came hither…
3-failures to get the tube in my
tallywhacker,

Get a taxi to the QMC, go to the A&E,
I got the number from my Angel Jenny,
Jenny rang, it’ll be here shortly,,,
Difficult to get hurriedly ready,
No Carer to help me, do you see?
No shoes, no socks, I remembered the money,

£15 each way, should cope adequately,
Took kitchen towels and remembered the key,
Carer came, took me down for the taxi,
Nice car, legs not squashed, from DG,
I augured a problem was coming to me…
A young, pleasant man, the driver…
To the ring-road – where we met the bother!
Road repairs, traffic unmoving, frustrating,
The ring-road was full, nothing was moving…
Traffic lights were out, and I was fuming,
And the Fare costs were increasing!
Still, we had time for chat & blather,
I just hoped I’d not burst my bladder,
Eventually, we arrived at the hospital,
Cost £25.40, No cash left for a taxi returning!
Through the doors, the scene was awful,
The smell of booze, bad language… dispicable,
Usually I try to be amiable and amicable,
Some patients, gloomy-looking and scowling,
Others muttering, spitting and swearing,
Low spirits & morosness were almost illuminating,
To the reception, answered the questioning,
Told to sit down, so I started waiting…
Someone will call my name, hopefully…
The scene oozed thoughts apocalyptically,
Flapdoodle is being spoken, almost angrily,
Someone shouted Gerald Chambers. Ah, that’s me!

I had trouble getting there, cause of my knee,
The lady who called acted patiently…
Took my vitals, told me to sit to wait to be taken away,
I hoped the bladder & Inchy didn’t get leaky,
Hoping no seizures came, or bleeding from my pinkie,
Prayed I’d not fall asleep, for me that’s customary,
A man came for me, so many corridors, bafflingly,
That waiting room was packed, almost fully…
One seat free, near a door, it was very draughty,
Folks going in and out, returning with a takeaway…
Bottles in brown bags, then whodunwrongitry…

Two people arrived from the constabulary…
Arresting two yobboes, & took them away,
Then, disaster overtook and harassed me!
Urine flowed violently & freely,
For the lesions on Little Inchy,
Embarrassed and getting panicky…
I ask a medic, “Where’s the nearest WC?”
Near the door, where you came into the A&E!

Finding my way went tentatively, nervously, 
Through the corridors, any which way?
The flow was getting greater on my way,

No one was in the bog, I’m glad to say…
What I found in the WC caused great dismay,

No bog rolls, towels, my kitchen roll, thankfully,
Was with me in my walker trolley…
The floor was awash, & very stinky
I used it all up, trying to clean body & Inchy,

But felt I must stink. Self-loathing angrily,
My state & condition were full of adversity
Catastrophe, contretemps, then another difficulty,
Ending it all came into mind as an appetency,
Still soaking PP’s, back to the room I did flee,
Unfortunately, getting lost on my way…
Got my bearing, got back, annoyingly…
The desk lady snorted out to me…
You’ve missed your call!
The world around me went into amorphy,
“You’ve been moved to the bottom of the listing”
This pain & frustration were not self-inflicting,
I felt like I was sort of intruding…
I wished I’d bought a bottle of Ivermectin,

This medical horror, I’d not been expecting,
Did I deserve this suffering and vilifying?
As night came on, I was almost shivering…
Damp, cold, and waiting, still waiting…
A blocked Catheter is classed as a medical emergency,
Staff seemed to adopt being unconcernedly?
I was here, involuntarily, & unblamedly?
Much later, a Doctor took me, none too soon…
Into his little treatment room,

Asking me, “What’s your problem?”
Not seeming to want my custom…
Mind you, he was very handsome,
I told him my story, so gruesome,
He inspected things, at first casually,
Then noticed the lesions bleeding away,
These need treatment immediately!
See your Doctor to get a referral quickly,
Then he tried to insert a tube into Little Inchy,
He was determined to get it in forcefully, 

Could he get it in? No way!
He made a phone call, then he said…
A specialist is needed, come this way…
Then led through corridors, to see a Mr Day,
Sat me on a chair, more waiting,
At least this time, there was no queuing…
Mr D, I told him the leaking was unrelenting,
Scarily, he said surgery needs doing…
on the penis lesions. Which was nerve-gnawing,
I prayed he was hypothesising,

I hope it’ll all be part of the guarishing?
Tube insertion failed on the first try, worrying!
His 2nd try, and by gum, it went in!
No advice or referral made, & I was listening,
The BP lady arrived, with good news – Amazing!
I’d got a lift home arranged, very pleasing!

Put me on a corrodor chair, again, waiting…
I and my clothes must have been stinking!
I fell asleep, and believe I was dreaming…
Of playing in a World Cup final, & winning!
Woken up by the ambulance men for lifting,
Put in the vehicle, of patients needed fetching,
By then, I was experienced at waiting,
I mused over recent & today’s abhorrencies.
Wild thoughts flowed in abundances,
The ambulance, filled up, we started homewards,
Who got home last? Naturally, it was Chambers,
They took me up to the flat, rang NCC control,

To say I had returned, which seemed subjectable,
I thanked them, my thoughts were now scattered, 
My clothes needed throwing, I needed showering…
Body scrubbing, disinfecting, and shaving…
But no, the tap’s hot water was almost freezing!
Used the kettle for hot water, for washing,
Anne Gyna was really hurting,
And the right knee again had me wobbling,
So painful walking, hobbling & genuflecting,

Of course, I’d missed my medicationing…
I called NCC repairs in the morning,
Chap came out for repairing,
The tap was cold again by evening,
I started this blog-Ode, as a Carer was visiting…
He did my bit of shopping,
No blog for so long, I stayed home Odeing,
I really should have gone shopping with him,

Roast smoked pork on the list, I got blended bacon,
Which ended up in the waste bin,
I couldn’t blame Ejaz; I knew what would happen,
Phoned the District nurses, & got information…
They’ll no longer service my Catheter Contraption,
It’s a different one, much more complicated,
Dangerous, Nurses cannot be implicated…
They are barred from attending, I’m worried,
So, as blockages happen fortnightly…
I was instructed to take a taxi to the QMC,

Specifically to the A&E,
If it happens at night, no Carer with Inchie?
Whose to get my shoes and clothes on for me?
What if I have no money for the taxi?
Am I not asking too tendentiously?
The thought of going through the futility,

Embarrassment, pain, and agony,
Filthied, fetid, bloodied, and self-dirtied,
Threatened by yobboes, taxi overcharged,
Waiting here and there, get home so tired…
Angry, a day wasted, feeling withered,
Time for my wild thought to be reactivated?
I’ve never felt so frustrated,
That says a lot! I could have wept…

I just wondered…

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All day, every try until this one, I could not access any files or folders. Suddenly, I could, so I got the BP graphic on.

I have no hopes of it being available again later.
It was not available ten minutes ago, I’ll try again…
HUH!
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I could spit!
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What next, I thought…
I just found out that the hot water is cold again!
Walked into the door frame.
Dropped my mug of Glengettie.
Trying to mop it up, using the stick at the same time, my right knee gave way, and I clouted it and banged my head on the edge of the worktop as I grabbed to stop myself from going all the way down.
Breaking an arm off of my damned spectacles.

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One couldn’t write fiction any scarier!
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I want to make myself free…
of failure, fear, living fretfully,
nervously, and lessen the mental
and physical pains & confusion.
Just thought I’d mention it.

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OLD CARTOON
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Inchie Today: Wed/Thurs 3/4th June 2026 Regular Cock-Ups-Return!

The computer came on this morning – Thurs, 3rd try.
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Heartbreaking
A broken Inchie.
Warden did not come back to try to get me into the banking site. Have I got owt left in there or not?
The new computer has scattered more icons and messages than it was intended, which has added confusion for me; I didn’t understand most of them. On the opening screen… I say opening screen; yesterday, I couldn’t even open it. So late at night, when it decided to let me get in, in sleep mode. 

The computer man hasn’t returned despite phone calls; one call was answered, but then went dead. Repeated texts & calls from Carer Mizra, we have heard nothing from…
The One Stop COMPUTER SHOP. Sherwood

CorelDraw not working – Urgent Help Needed. The new computer keeps giving warning bleeps. Unknown Icons have appeared on the desktop. Why should the shop or computer-man come back to try and make sure it works? They have the money. Of course, they could just be too busy. I took this photo when I went to see about getting this not-working-properly computer, which cannot access any of the previously saved work I’d done on almost everything I use. Often refuses to start, but usually manages within six tries. Cuts out so often. Now does not recognise my USB reader or external drives. ARRGH!
I wonder if they are on TrustPilot? No, fancy that.
On Facebook, though, I can’t access that!
Likely all part of a master-con, on Congniscent Impairment and handicapped, going senile old me.
Gullible me, too! I expect the Computerman is overloaded after his holiday. He took nearly two months to get to look at the old computer.
So, time and hope yet. 

A physical and mental wreck. Not knowing drives you mad. In desperation, I phoned the NCC Procurement Sustainment Chief Officer for help. He rang Warden, she rang me, and came later in the week on Friday, 3rd June, to try and sort out why I could not get into the bank site. Did a grand job in sorting it out. But ran out of time as she found that my mobile was wrong. Yet, they send threats and problems to me on it?
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Am I moaning? YES!
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Apart from the fungal lesion on Little Incjie bleeding worse, Frustration Frank being Rampant,
holding me in a deep devouring, stinking, mind-crunching, grinding away at me in a deep well. And not a wink of sleep last night, due to the tormenting, trying, treacherous

having a complete, & full
night of mind-hassling, bringing worries to the fore.
Colin Cramps, Kidney Ken,
& . , … too much! But, the is now getting blocked every two weeks with back matter in the tube from the bladder; causing horrendous pain from the flowback in the guts and kidneys, is the worst physical ailment by far. The three Emails I need help with and understanding. No communication or help about the bank problems.
No response, let alone help, over the computer farce. What is going on?
Carers have no time to ring the dentist for my special toothpaste. I’ve let the hot tap run cold for two days.

I’m getting much more confused each day. Although confused is not the word. Nearly out of fresh food, including bread. I have tons of tinned stuff in the cupboards. I’ll manage.
I’m in the right state, mentally.

Help? What’s That Then?
I need it now, please.

My premorbid cogniscence impairment is, I know, getting worse each day. Even at night, when all the problems presented themselves and kept recurring, I’m now certain they will never be resolved.
You should do this, or that. Advice is all I get. No help with formulating and doing it. A year ago, I think I may have coped. As the brain gets more affected, depression deepens when I realise I can’t go on like this… but have no choice. I have, and am ashamed of thinking of it. I’ve never before. Things are getting too complicated.
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I intend, when, or rather if the computer ever works properly, to just do an Ode, cartoon, and the BP results.
This must be the end of my moaning, cause whining and grumbling have left me getting nowhere. Tsk!
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Grim: Aye-up Inchie, still got pains abdominal?
Inch: Here & there, I’m feeling abysmal…
Grim: You’re bad physical and mental…
I could take yer soul today, I’m able!

Inch: Ave yer gorrowt for me arsenical? 
Grim: Good God, are yer feeling suicidal?
Inch: Just once last night, worries were torrential,
Grim: I can take yer soul astrological, to make it botanical,
The Angels do it, it’s all done alchemically,

Inch: I never knew that! Do you do MY life’s appraisal?
Grim: Nae, that’s up to God & the devil,
Inch: That sounds a smidgeon apocryphal? 
Grim: If yer kill yersen, death’ll be anachronical!
Inch: You said I’d die as Earth goes all apocalyptical?
Grim: Ah, I said that to confuse yer, a ferhoodle! 
Inch: No wonder my brains are in such a muddle…
Grim: I like a giggle, talking fissilingual,
The gaffer made me wise, and gnosticle… 

Inch: Well, he made me spend ages in the hospital,
Grim: He gave you a guide interacerebral!
So you can glean things psychological,
Inch: Oh, the voice in my head, Abdul?
Grim: We call him Dementia Michael.
You won’t be welcome if you go suicidal,

Inch: Well, I think I might be too idle…
Grim: You might be made a reaper, it’s possible,
He can make a reaper of one dejected, immitigable,
Inch: Will I need to be meritorious, laudable?
If I do top missen, is being a reaper liable?
Grim: Yeah, but for politicians, it’s Nowheresville! 
Inch: Me bad un missing teeth and pustule?
Grim: Good! make you look like a puckle…
This death lark, no need to get all frenetical!.
Inch: To be honest I feel pretty apathetical…
Grim: You’ll gerra new soul & body, ultimately,
Inch: Is this why my life’s been lived so miserably?
Mental and physical complications, much agony?
I
Grim: You’ll snuff it while yer thinking, psychologically,
Inch: Is that good, would it go beneficially?
Grim: Well, it’s best you wait and see.
I’ll collect yer soul and guide you, Inchie,
Inch: Bless yer, that’s good enough for me!

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Inchy Today: Mon/Tue 1/2nd June 2026 Fare Thee Well 🌸

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I see today more political baseness,

A lack of moral principles, sordidness,
Boastfulness, bluffness, & bluntness,
Bamboozlers, bankrollers, beguilers, belittlers,

More backstabbers, backhander, backsliders,
Churlishness, clandestineness, contemptuous,
Violence, slaughter, governmental bloodshedders,

 Deceptiveness, detestableness,
Can our rulers not see Earth’s finiteness?
In the citizenry, fear, contagious distress,
Hopes, needs, turning into illusoriness,
Proletariats, once. quite tenacious…
Exist, survive, but are trepidacious,
Who can we blame for this tragicalness?
My forecast may well not be the zaniest,
The end of days, of earthliness…

part of the real, inherent adscititious…

Earthlings will miss the end of the Universe…
As it implodes, collapses…

Well, that’s my synopsis!
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OLD CARTOONS
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Hope for the future…
To please, please I beg, mend my computer,
Help with the bank account dwindling disaster,
A miracle with my kidneys, & blocked Catheter…
Penal Fungal Cut, before they get painfuller,
To stop leaving the tap on & the cooker,
To stop taking tumbles, 
Slow down, to have fewer seizures,
These needs, how do I conjure?
I think life’s getting cruddier.

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On Tuesday, I can’t type in Notepad; it deletes letters after the ones I’m typing. CorelDraw is still not allowing me to import, export, or perform at least 18 other actions that are blacked out. The Computer warning beeps from the hard drive are back again. I’ve got the trots.

 TUESDAY: I am so frustrated. Can’t even open a new template. No reply from the calls and emails to the computer man for help. £850 quid plus fitting. He must be so busy. 

Hour extra visit: No body check, Catheter comfort check. No cleaning done. No mail help. No floors mopped, or food date checks. Bored on mobile. 

Frustrated, depressed, and have had enough!

This computer is the only thing that keeps me going. Now it doesn’t, though I believe it’s not my fault. Notebook, the internet, and the keyboard, I think, are all giving me problems typing. The internet keeps going down. No help.

Help is unavailable with the banking problems.

The promised help with getting the new wheelchair was promised in November last year. Bought six months ago, it had not been brought into a usable condition.

Oxicodone could be my way out?

Tried to ring 111 for mental help, I felt I needed it.
I rang 111, feeling I needed help, as I am having dark thoughts, and needed it.
The phone didn’t work. The Carer had knocked the 2nd unit off the hook while putting the Hoover away. I replaced it and rang 111. The very thought of going through the Robot options was making me feel worse. These are the reasons for my bank. Virgin and British Gas problems, which, along with the Computer ones and the Catheter ones, made me forget about it, and I rang off. I wish I’d stayed on now. Confused, fed-up, and no idea what to do.
Other than adopt my dark thoughts. If I don’t ring, I’ll get no help, but that leaves me where I started.

Fret not if I do get the courage, I’ll be depression, frustration and worry-free. I write this out of desperation, knowing I’m a coward and will surely suffer on longer.

Cheerio. Bless you all.